Bone scan at table #3, please...

Today was very difficult. I had to take a day off work for 2 more obligatory tests before I start my chemo, the bone scan and full body CT scan. They're to make sure I'm not an oddity that can jump from stage 1 to stage 4 without hitting a lymph node like some kind of potentially lethal hopscotch. So, I went to the hospital to register for the tests. They took my name, handed me a coaster-blinky-thingie (like they do in a restaurant) and told me to wait and that it would light up and make noise when it was my turn. She explained this in entirely too much detail. I thanked her and took a seat. (Like I've never been out to eat...) So, as I wait for the next hour staring at my coaster-thingie, I realize that I'm quite hungry and wish I WAS waiting for a table and a meal, anything but where I am right now. The absolute last thing I want to do is go back into that same hall behind the key-coded door and be tested some more. I've been there too many times before this cancer and even more since. I also realize that this is something that has no end in sight. Now, I will be tested behind that door for years to come on a regular basis. The joy of carving out the cancer has been replaced with this new reality.

Fine. They call my name. Nuclear testing (they actually call it that) here I come. So, they sit me down to wait again and here comes the lady with a 3" cylinder in her hand marked with the radioactive sign. You almost expect it to be smoking like witch's brew on someone's porch at Halloween. Instead once removed from the tube, it's a harmless looking syringe of stuff to push through my vein. It takes 3 hours to get to the bones, so I ran errands with my cotton ball taped to the bend of my arm and 2 new armbands. You gotta love the hospital "jewelry". People out in the world look at you like you escaped or something. So, yada, yada, yada...bone scan complete. It was peaceful, really. Quiet. Nothing like the MRI machine. I actually caught about 15 minutes of sleep I think.

On to Texas Oncology for the CT scan. They are so nice there. (That's actually a true statement even though it's dripping in sarcasm here...) First, they gave me a wonderful "cocktail" to drink (contrast #1). Then, I got to have a signing party for all of the paperwork for my clinical trial. I'll know the week of the 14th if I get the drug or not. The lotto hasn't been held yet apparently. Either way, I am officially a registered lab rat. Then, one more huge syringe (contrast #2) about 20 more minutes in a giant tube and my day is done. I felt a little queasy from the whole thing. Not sure if that's 3 types of contrast + radioactivity or all of the lectures. Probably the latter...

You see, I got another "talk" today about how I'm not going to be able to do what I have to once my treatment starts. It's so disheartening and confusing! Half of the nurses and doctors say I will, the other half sit there and look at you like you've gone mad even thinking that you can go through chemo and work the whole time. Then, both of them escape the conversation with the comment, "Everyone's different!" Really??? I hadn't noticed. This is not a choice I am making, people. Given the "choice" I wouldn't even have cancer. This is called survival. There's nothing glamorous about life as a single parent. In fact, most of it is really really hard, except for NOT having to agree on what's for dinner, which route to take where, etc. You get to make all of those decisions for yourself. Problem is, you have to make all of the hard ones alone as well, and at the end of the day it's just you. You pay the mortgage, bills, and feed your family. Otherwise, it doesn't get done. Besides, if everyone IS different (already established) then let's just wait and see. Knock off the talks. They aren't helping me.

See what they don't understand is that neither one of us is in control here. Not me, not them. I don't know how this is going to go and neither do they. Am I scared? Yeah. It's terrifying. But thankfully, I have a place to take it. In Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Some of that scripture used to confuse me. Like how is His burden light? And exactly how is His yoke easy? And what's a yoke anyway?? (In case you don't know, it's a heavy wooden harness that was used to attach oxen side by side to pull equipment to work the field.) Luckily, my Life Application Bible explains this so clearly. I love the visual of this.

See, when you're "yoked" to Him, the burden of whatever you are carrying rests on much bigger shoulders than your own. You have Him as your Partner to pull the weight, and that makes your burdens so much better. Otherwise, you would collapse under the pressure. There's no promise in there that it won't be hard, but there's a guarantee that you won't carry the heaviest part because He will. You're not doing it alone anymore. He's right there with you, and there IS rest for your soul. That's what I'm counting on. That's a promise that I am claiming because I AM weary. I AM burdened, and I DO need rest. So, I don't care what they tell me about not being able to "do it". Because I'm not doing it alone. And if He sees fit to help me through it and work every day I plan to, then I will. Either way, I won't crumble under the weight of my responsibilities because He has more pulling power than I do, more than any of us. I simply have to come to Him with my burdens, and then I find will rest.

Questions of a Child

Any mom with cancer will tell you that one of the most difficult things about having it is figuring out how you are going to tell your children. I had several sleepless nights trying to figure out exactly how, when, what to say... There's just no easy way to do it. Always prepared and doing a little research, I ordered several books to help me. Two were for him. One for me. One of the ones I bought for him I put aside immediately. It begins with a little boy who lives in a little white house with his Mommy and Daddy and has a big oak tree in their yard, complete with picket fence. Already, it wasn't our story. Daddy doesn't live at our house, and my oak tree in the front yard is sicker than I am. It probably won't make it through the winter this year. So, I nixed book #1.

Book #2 was beautiful. It's wonderfully written, beautifully illustrated and explained things at a child's level while covering everything I needed to tell him. I've had these books for a couple months, but haven't even attempted to read them to him. I couldn't. I couldn't read the beautiful one without crying and the other one annoyed me on page one. So, I told him about my cancer without them. It wasn't planned, pretty, or something I want to do again. But, either way, I told him just before my surgery.

I made sure to read the one I had purchased for me which covered all of the questions children might ask when they hear this news. Oddly enough, his first question was the title of the book, "Can I still kiss you?". Of course, that question was followed by a lecture about washing my hands more and covering my mouth when people sneeze. (Note to self, teach him to cover his own mouth...later.) Washing my hands more?? He doesn't know that if I did that any more, I'd be treated for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. So, I had to explain that this is a different kind of "sick". It went better than I thought. I decided to just save the book for later. I couldn't possibly read it without crying and making things worse. I thought I'd know it when I needed it. That night was last night...

Something happened last night that I have been trying to avoid since my surgery. I've been very careful to make sure it didn't, but it did anyway. Brayden saw my scars. I guess I had only thought about making sure there was no way for him to see me in the shower or while getting dressed. I never counted on him jerking down the neckline of my scooped-neck PJ's at prayer time to have a look. But then, why wouldn't he? We look at his boo-boo's all of the time. He's proud of them! Why wouldn't I be the same? It happened so fast, I could do nothing about it.

It shocked him. I was terrified, not sure how to react. I saw the fear on his face when he asked, "Why did they cut you that way?" So, I calmly explained that they had to cut me to get the cancer out. "Is it all out?" he asked. I told him we think so. "Will they fix it?" Yes my dear, they're going to fix it. Relief washed over his face. "Then why do you still have your hair?" He needed to put the pieces together. I grabbed book #2. This was the time. We read through it together for the first time and he seemed satisfied. Prayer time with kisses and it was over.

This morning he awoke just like he does everyday. Happy to be here, happy to be loved, and not worried about my cancer. Turns out the fear of telling far outweighed the trauma it caused. He's got a couple new dates on his mind, September 25 and October 3. Not exactly things to look forward to, but they are what they are. And we're going to get through this together.

"Norm!" and The Premier of the “Starter-Kit”

A couple of days ago, I talked about all of the optional medications that the doctors give you to cope with your cancer. What I haven’t talked about are all of the ones that really aren’t optional. Between the two, I now feel like “Norm!” (from Cheers) when I walk into Walgreen’s. They just keep adding them for this or that. I show up everyday about the same time. They always have one ready for me...you get the picture. For example, I went to the dentist on Tuesday because I was told that it’s extremely important to get your teeth cleaned 2-4 weeks before chemo so that they don’t rot out of your head during it. OK. I went.

So, I asked for “the cleaning of a lifetime”, which I was getting apparently from the taste of the blood, when I happened to mention to my hygienist that I had a port installed when I had my surgery. She dropped her tools and ran out of the room. Next thing I know the dentist is explaining to my why I need to rush off to the pharmacy to get a 2000 mg dose of Amoxicillin as soon as I leave there and shoving a prescription in my hand. “It’s prophylactic”, she said, “but you better get there as soon as you leave here.” Apparently the bacteria stirred up from cleaning your teeth is really bad if you have permanent foreign objects installed in your body. Who knew? And why the word prophylactic? Why not precautionary? That seems a little more appropriate…

I had already been to the pharmacy on Monday to pick up my Coumadin, that I now take daily, to prevent me from having a blood clot from the port. So, this port that is going to help me in chemo so much has really been a pain so far. Especially since the knots won’t seem to fall off the incision, which has COMPLETELY healed except for those stinking knots. My mom had a surgery a couple years ago and her knots took so long to fall of that she thought they were just there for good! (It has only been handy for that 6 year old boy in me that likes to show people things that they might think are gross. “Here, feel it…”)

So for more than a week, I have been developing this new “condition”. It basically feels like my body from my collar bone to the bottom of my ribcage is being drug across a cheese grater. My clothes hurt me. Typing this hurts me. My post-surgical cami with the stuffed “falsies” hurts me. I have put up with it because it wasn’t that bad until yesterday when I realized that it was getting worse, not better. So, yes, another trip to Walgreen’s last night. Apparently, I am having chest spasms from the tissue expanders. It doesn’t feel like what I thought spasms were, but I’ll do anything to fix this. So, I got the Rx. My sister, Michelle, was with me when we picked it up. I was bummed when they guy said, "That'll be $25." No generic, which matters when you're going EVERYDAY for a new drug. But, when we pulled away and Michelle said, "You're insurance saved you $287.99" I almost drove off the road. Those pills cost more than an iPhone!

I couldn’t take it until today at 4:00 so I don’t know if it's going to work yet. It has to be taken at 4:00 to maximize it’s result and prevent me from being a zombie during business hours. It knocked me out cold tonight from 8-10:30, but I'm all awake now! Great. Not sure if this is spasms...it feels like the nerves in my face did when they were repairing. That took months.

So, all day the irritation and suffering from the clothes just kept getting worse. I wanted to rip my top off, but there’s some silly HR rule against that…and no one deserves to see that anyway. But, the pressure from the stuffed “falsies” was more than I could take. We had an important presentation today that was physically horrendous, even though it went well. So, I yanked them out of the tank and sported my new “starter kit” as soon as I got out of that room. It didn't fix the problem, but it did give me quite a bit of relief from the pressure. It also made me realize that I don't look that bad. Most people didn't really notice unless I told them.

So, I'm just wondering how long it's going to take me to do the same with the hair at some point. I think it will be sooner than anyone expects. I began this process thinking that always looking as normal as possible was the point. Now, I'm not so sure. I need to be able to adjust to the fact that for at least a while, I will live a new normal.

Mommy, is it the 27?

Today was Brayden's birthday. He turned 5 today and is growing up so fast. In the last couple months he's begun to be a little walking, talking calendar. The first thing he does in the morning is announce the date. He hasn't gotten down the whole "th" "st" "rd" part of it. So it's sounds something like this, "Today's the 27, and Sunday will be the 30." I enjoy it so much that I find myself saying it wrong on accident and on purpose. I was watching him play with his cousin, Aiden, tonight as he opened his presents and began thinking about how unique of a creation we all are. If you ask, he remembers that Mother's Day was May 10. Don't worry, I checked, he was right. I'm the mother and my answer was "in May I think..."

He's such a little character. Loves math and has begun adding double digits in his head. People ask me why I didn't send him on to kindergarten this year. The truth is because he would fail coloring. He can't understand why anyone would want to do that. Just won't color a thing. When I pick him up at church, everyone's little pictures are on the door waiting to show mommy and daddy with pride. His is always the blank one. Or if it's a teacher that doesn't know him, she thinks she's lost one. I know better!

Well he had a great Birthday tonight. And as I headed off to Walgreen's for yet another prescription tonight (this time for chest spasms), all I could think about is how God made him exactly the way he is for some special purpose. I pray he finds it by seeking God's will over his own long before I did. Oh, how much easier his life could be.

You see, he saved my life. I had been sampling church for a year or so casually on the weekends. I liked Saturday night church because you could get your church in and still go "out". See, even though I was going, in my mind I was just "chalking up credits" with God for being there. Church was just something I had added into my calendar. I was not surrendered, still working on "strong" too much to be surrendered. Living my life in sin and not feeling particularly bothered about changing it.

It was like perfume. Spray a little church on you, you'll smell better & maybe no one will know what you were doing the night before. Then be on your way. I was on a path of total destruction. It's doubtful that I'd be here writing this now if it weren't for him. Exactly a month before I became pregnant, I had been laying in a hospital bed at Baylor having smashed my face on a 20 foot box truck after a hockey game. They pieced me back together and gave me a 10% chance that the left side of my face would ever work again because there had been so much nerve damage. It took my mom over 2 hours in the shower at the hospital just to get the dried blood out of my hair once I could get out of bed. Little pieces of fiberglass surfaced from wounds on my face for the next two weeks because they had been so deeply embedded. Thankfully no one else was hurt.

When I learned 6 weeks later that I was pregnant with him, everything changed immediately. I got serious. There was so much more on the line than before. I now was totally responsible for raising another human being. I always knew he was a boy, too. Stick turned pink, and my first though was, "I always wanted a boy." People thought I was crazy or that I was just taking the 50/50 shot, but that wasn't it. I knew. Never even looked at one girl name in the books...

God chose to bless me with what I always wanted in the middle of my darkest days away from Him. It took Brayden to bring me back to Him. Yeah, I had been at church for a awhile, but hadn't taken any of it home with me. So, as I look at him today, I see my little boy growing up so fast. I also see a boy God chose to give to another one of his children to bring her home. Thank you, Brayden and Happy Birthday! And, Thank You God for seeing past who I was, to who you created me to be and choosing me for his mother.

Strength, Pharmaceuticals, and Noah's Neighbor

One of the most interesting discoveries about this cancer journey is that I am so tired of people telling me how strong I am. If you've done this...don't worry I've already gotten over it. But, STOP! (And yes, Carol, please DO give that card to someone else.) Everyone's first thing they think of when they think of me is that fact. "You're the strongest person I know."

You see, to me it's really not a compliment. I know exactly where it comes from, but it registers in my mind as failure and conjures up bad memories. It used to be my greatest point of pride. (Pride...that's a whole other blog entry...we'll save that one.) I spent 20 years building the wall that it took to be that strong and it WAS true. I started young, and worked at it brick by brick into my 30's even. Defiant to authority, especially God. I didn't need anyone or anything. I did what I wanted when I wanted, always to the detriment of myself and sometimes to others. You were either with me or against me. And, I have the pirate scars to prove it, physically and emotionally. I had a lot of friends, but leaned on practically none of them. "Cross her and watch out!" That's how people viewed me because I wanted them to. That's what that statement means to me. Take it from someone who knows, it's an empty way to live, because we weren't built to live that way.

Then came the day when I realized that the "Yvette" plan was not going to work, kinda like that healthcare bill we're talking about now. There was just no way. I was dying inside and completely miserable. Then, my friend Sharon invited me to Fellowship Church. It was so different. Church had changed in the last 18 years! In fact, I wasn't sure it was for real because I was enjoying it! But, the messages truly were Biblical. I still remembered my Bible lessons I was teethed on. This church WAS for real, just packaged in a way that made sense. It wasn't the "because I said so" version of church I grew up with. Our pastor, Ed, explained the same biblical principles in a new way, a way that showed me why I was miserable and a way that showed me how to apply it to let God change my life. I wanted to be changed, I wanted to be different. So, I started to attend, then joined, started to volunteer, and began taking every class I could get my hands on in FC Studies. Today, I'm not that "strong" woman I used to be. My strength comes from my relationship with Jesus. It's HIS strength you see today, not mine. There's no other strength like it! So, don't tell me I'm strong because thankfully, it just isn't true anymore. The burden has been lifted!

That brings me to cancer, a walk with Christ, and pharmaceuticals. A weird thing happens when you find out that your own body has decided to try and kill you. It messes with your brain in unbelievable ways. Then, the doctors offer you drugs to help you through this time. It's a candy store of options. Depression, anxiety, sleep-aides, and that's just some of the optional ones. If you think like me, that just doesn't seem OK. Partially, because the OLD Yvette would never have admitted the need. (She still shows up sometimes.) So, I said, "No thanks." But the panic, nights with no sleep...they don't go away. So then on the flip side, I started to doubt the strength of my faith. I think crazy things like if my faith was really strong enough, I wouldn't even be considering any of these options. I shouldn't need them, any of them. God is all I need. I KNOW that's true. "Again, No Thanks." It was a real battle. I was dealing with physical effects and feelings that I had never experienced before. At times, they were overwhelming. In fact, on more than one occasion I have fallen completely apart in public, with perfect strangers, or over something minuscule. But for some reason I believed that if I reached out for the help, I was compromising my faith, once again failing even though it's very temporary. So, why did I make the call to the doctor admitting this "failure" and asking for the help?

Because, I remembered the story of Noah's neighbor. By the way, this one isn't in The GOOD BOOK. It's a joke wrapped in some insight. You know the story...Noah built the ark, spent a REALLY long time working on it. Everyone thought he was crazy! Then he loaded it up with the animals, his family, and the rains came. So, it rains for a while, Noah floats by his neighbor..."You want on the ark?", he asks. "No", says his neighbor, "it's gonna stop raining." So, Noah the animals and family float on by. The next time they float by, the neighbor is on the top floor of his house, waters rising and he refuses help once more. They float on by. The next time, he's on the roof, water lapping at his feet, refusing to get on board. Finally, the neighbor drowns and finds himself before God. He's pretty mad, "Why didn't you save me, God?" And, God says, "What are you talking about?? I sent Noah by to get you 3 times!"

To make it through this, I definitely need Jesus. That's FIRST and FOREMOST. But, I also need my family and friends, my church, my doctors, and as it turns out some pharmaceuticals for a little while. The doctors know how this cancer thing works. When they say you need a little help here or there, you probably do. It's temporary, it doesn't mean your faith has failed. In fact, some of the help I've said yes to has given me the clarity to see how He's using this experience, and keeping me from drowning in this cancer just like Noah's neighbor.

Irony, The "GI Jane", and Side-splitting Laughter

OK. There are those days where you get to decide whether you are going to hide in a corner and cry or completely laugh yourself silly. For me that usually centers around a series of ironies that if strung together and put on paper would not even be believable in Hollywood. Today was that day. I have written some of these posts in tears. I do that tonight for a different reason. My mom and I just laughed so hard about today and what the results of my decisions made could be that we had to separate to recover from tears of laughter.

It was my first day back at work. That went well. It felt good to be back to doing "normal" things and I received a warm welcome from my team. The irony started in other parts of the building. You see, when you have a surgery like I have, and you're only 1/2 way done with the repair job it messes with people's minds. They don't know how to react, or more importantly where to look. I bring this up for the opposite reason that you think. It's the women I ran into today that seemed to forget that when you talk to someone, you look at their face. Now, if they see you coming from a distance, they're OK. There's time to check out the scene and sum it up. But, round a corner and surprise 'em...I must have giggled about this a good portion of the day because it happened so often and is so ironic. As for the men, I feel sure several of them know exactly how many ceiling tiles are in the building. Sometimes it's kind of fun to make people uncomfortable, as long as the joke's on you. But, that's not the good part of the story.

So, as I'm wading through 2.5 weeks of email, I get an email with the details of the singles retreat at our church that's being hosted at our new unbelievable camp. I say new because it's just about 3 years old I think. So, for 3 years I've been wondering when we were going to get around to having a singles retreat. You see, my best childhood memories and THE most important decision I ever made all happened at church camp. I tear up every time they show clips from the kids/student camps because I know what happens there. It takes me back to before the many years of wrong decisions, and bad choices...But, my camp was NOTHING like this one. We had no A/C, scorpions in the shower, huge biting horse flies that LOVED Deep Woods OFF!, and no windows in the cabins, just screens so that we wouldn't ACTUALLY die in the heat of a Texas summer. That's not our new camp. This is camp is 5 star!

As I turned to look at the dates on my huge wall calendar, I began counting how many days it was from Chemo poison (take #1) that is supposed to take every hair on my head within 14-17 days according to my Dr. last Friday. It's exactly 14 days!! So, here's where the decision came in...it took a little while to ponder. First thought...well I'm not going to that! I can't! Then...I've waited 3 years for this!!! Pity Party or Bite the Bullet? Can I even do this in a wig?

So, I picked up the phone and called the cancer salon. I decided to go to the retreat, and get the "cut" the week before, October 3rd to be exact. Apparently it's called the "GI Jane" appointment. They buzz your head, fit, cut and style your wigs, and you walk out with your "look" for the next year or so. I'm giving up my hair a week before I have to, but the thought of getting to camp and living through it coming out in chunks all weekend was awful. Then it became really, really, really funny. I'm so visual. I see things that I imagine and that can be dangerous. You know, hug a friend, lose a chunk. Hug another friend, lose another chunk. Hug enough friends, wear a robe, and suddenly everyone's trying to figure out who got the Krishna to come to our camp. Either that's hysterical, or I'm sick...probably both.

So, I somberly came to Mom's and sat her down to get the appointment on her calendar. (I don't get the "put everything on a calendar" from nowhere...) So, I told her about the retreat, the conflict of dates, and my decision. We were quite serious for a few minutes. Then she asked the question that sparked the cascades of laughter. "What activities are you guys going to do at this retreat?" (Beyond worship and study, obviously...) So, I mentally went back to the clips I'd seen from kids camp activities, and what I thought the email said from memory. It went something like this..."they have horses, a zip line, wave pool..." We stared at each other and started laughing hysterically because I just don't know how you do any of those things in a wig! Ride your horse too close under a tree...where's your hair? In the tree! Besides, I may be a Texan, but I can't even ride a horse! I'm a city girl. The zip line visual includes a hunting expedition at it's conclusion... Forget capture the flag, it's find the hair! And no one needs to explain the wave pool part... (It's actually a lazy river, either way it doesn't need a wig floating in it.)

Then she tells me about a friend who rear-ended someone in a wig, saw the "head" fly over the back of the seat, and began screaming because she thought she had decapitated someone. Suddenly, my worst nightmare was the funniest thing I have laughed about in months.

Our camp's called Allaso Ranch. They tell us Allaso means change. So, really it's Change Ranch. That's a place I belong, hair or no hair. Besides, if I do get my hair stuck in a tree or lose it in the woods, my good friend, Susan, will retrieve it for me. Of that, I'm certain.

Finally! We have my Oncologist, a Plan, and a Schedule

I got to meet my Oncologist today!! From the moment that we (Mom and I) entered the facility I knew we were in great hands. Even that lady at the desk that greets you with the 2000 pages of forms to fill out was delightful and answered questions with pleasure. ( I only had 2...) After my hospital stay, I thought I might have entered The Twilight Zone. They didn't even have that rude little window to slam or the clipboard with stickers you sign! From there I met Gayle who will be taking my blood for the next year. She's a 17 year survivor who doesn't shake hands because she hugs you instead and had to come out to meet Mom as well. Then we got to meet the nurse. She's was not my doctor's usual nurse (who had the day off) but very nice all the same.

Side story: My "real" nurse, Sharon, who had the day off probably already thinks I'm crazy because when she told me on Tuesday that the next available appointment was Monday the 24th, I cracked in half on the phone and bawled my eyes out instantaneously complete with the single mom story. See, I'm trying very hard not to miss any more work than I already have to and Monday is my return to work date. Well, she worked some miracle for the basket case on the phone (that's me) because she called the next day with a miracle appointment for this afternoon. Yeah, Sharon! You deserved the day off! Can't wait to meet you! I'm sure you're not as excited...

So, back to the real story...We have a plan! I got to meet my wonderful doc who is exactly what I needed and had told Mom I was looking for in my Oncologist. He's definitely older than me, but NOT at all "old". He's is up on all the latest research and advancements. He's analytical to the point that I want to interrupt every sentence and that means he's thorough. He also seems to have the patience of a saint. That's a requirement to work with me in this situation. If you know me, you know why. If you don't, it's because I can ask more questions than anyone you've ever met and want to understand everything completely. That frustrates many...But, once I have my questions answered, I make BIG decisions quickly. So, after a 3 hour appointment, I made all decisions in 4 minutes.

So, here goes: I am going to have 6 rounds of "normal" breast cancer chemo every three weeks. That's two drugs called Carboplatin and Taxotere. These are the barf and bald cocktail to be completed January 8th. They're also proven effective. Now, since I have this HER2 quite aggressive type of cancer (overachieving at behaving badly once more), I also get Herceptin at the same time. This is a miracle drug. It just happens to treat this super aggressive stuff with such effectiveness that it cuts my recurrence rate in 1/2 from chemo and surgery alone! I get it for a year every three weeks and it doesn't have the bald/barf side effects. How cool is that?? So, my aggressive type is really a blessing, kind of like this cancer is in general.

But, I'm also qualified to participate in a clinical trial for a 4th drug with even less side effects!! It only has one that truly affects me. There's no data on how it works with Stage 1 or 2. That's what we trial folks are for... But, in Stage 4 people it cuts tumor size by 25-50%. It's called Avastin. So, in other words, it could make my great numbers even better! Only 50% of those accepted will get it, but the study is not blind. So, if you don't get it, you still get everything you were going to get anyway and you know you're not getting it. No placebo. The only downside to it is that it, like Herceptin, will be for one year. But, with this one my final reconstruction surgery can't be preformed until 1-2 months after the treatment is done. That's the only bad side effect. That delays my "final product" from the plastic surgeon by about 5 months....October 2010-ish. Mom had a hard time with this. She just wants her daughter whole again. Oddly enough, I'm really not missing the girls that much. I still get to blow up the tissue expanders in the mean time. So, I'll have my normal size before then anyway. Besides, some other women did the same thing for me just a few short years ago to test the Herceptin. So, I get to help others whether I get the drug or not.

Now, I'm putting it in God's hands. If it will help me and I'm supposed to get it, I'll get it. He will see to it. If not, I get recreated by the plastic surgeon in the spring as planned. How is that a bad deal? There's no downside. (Remind me to tell you all of the pros and cons of having an unbelieveably HOT plastic surgeon some other time...)

So, like all things I do, I'm diving in head first in the hopes of receiving 4 bad-to-the-bone drugs at once. If not, I still get three. Plus, supposedly they have drugs now that can keep even me from barfing all the time. That's hard to believe. (I got sick 2 weeks ago from taking my multivitamin on an empty stomach.) I do have a lot of "driving the porcelain bus time" from in my younger stupid days of much too much alcohol. But, don't think that's exactly the same as on the job chemo training....I'll let you know if it helps.

One, last thing...they even met all of my "demands" without me brandishing any weapons at all. So, I got to tell them when I had mapped out the chemo dates around my work obligations for the next 6 months and they agreed to every one! You should have seen their faces when I pulled out the every 3 week schedule that I had created before I left work for surgery. I do my homework! It's already on my calendar there, now it's on the doctor's as well. We kick things off on Friday, September 25th. Just got to get through a little complete body CT scan and bone scan until then. It's been a truly great day.

Thank you, Jesus for my many, many blessings that you reveal to me on a daily basis. You have given me everything I need to get through this, and I am so very grateful.