The Big C Lowdown
Interested in what the medical side of a cancer journey is like?
Mine started with a routine mammogram this summer, which disclosed a suspicious area that had to be biopsied. On August 11th, I was diagnosed with noninvasive stage 0 DCiS, a very common diagnosis, and opted for the lightest course of action recommended to me, which was a lumpectomy followed by radiation. I was assigned a cancer navigator, who helps me coordinate all my care. Unfortunately and very surprisingly for me and my medical team, the surgical pathology results from my lumpectomy came back with a serious and rare form of invasive cancer: HER2+ ER+ PR+ Grade 3 micropapillary invasive carcinoma. Suddenly, everyone's demeanor became very serious. I then had an MRI and a second surgery to remove my sentinel lymph nodes, which thankfully came back clear. My tumor was small, 6 mm, and caught very early, so I’m at stage 1A, which is very curable. But my oncologist told me it's possible that it may have spread undetected, especially with this type of cancer, and chemo would address that possibility, plus cut in half my chance of recurrence. She assured me that I'm young and healthy and believes I will tolerate it well, so reluctantly I agreed to a much more aggressive course of action. To prep for chemo, I needed to heal from my surgeries, have a port placed inside my chest, and undergo an echocardiogram, which I will need to repeat every 3 months.
Yesterday, I embarked on my first round of infusions, which will continue for one year. My blood work was checked first, as it will be every time, and all my numbers were great, but as of today I am considered to be immunocompromised. They started off with an infusion of Herceptin through my port, which is targeted to cure the HER2+ element of my diagnosis. That was easy and uncomplicated. But then they started my first round of chemo, with Taxol, and I immediately discovered firsthand that chemo drugs are a whole different thing.
Four minutes into the chemo infusion, I suddenly felt an intensity in my stomach that started climbing its way up my chest & esophagus. My heart started pounding and I felt like I couldn’t breathe and needed to throw up. This intensity kept going right up through my face to the top of my head. My friend Mindy, who so generously accompanied me yesterday, said she’s never seen anyone turn so red so fast. My nurse turned off the drip, gave me Benadryl and took my vitals while I used my rescue inhaler. After conferring with my oncologist, she slowly started it up again at a much lower rate. I was fine after that. The entire time, from the start to finish, was a little over 5 hours. We were able to walk the halls before my reaction, but after that they made me stay put. My chemo room was very comfortable, private, bright and roomy with big windows. As of this morning, I feel fine. No side effects yet. 🙏
After weekly chemo for 3 months, until Valentine's Day, I continue with the Herceptin infusion every 3 weeks, and begin 6 weeks of radiation five times a week. After radiation, I will start an oral form of hormone therapy to address my ER+ and PR+ status. I will continue to be followed closely by my oncologist for years to come.
The Big C has definitely lived up to its scary reputation in my book, though I am grateful for early detection (don’t delay mammograms, girlfriends!), expert medical care close to home, and a support system that is out of this world. As has been a recurring theme in my life, I once again find myself on a steep learning curve, and it would be my pleasure to share with anyone in need what I've learned and am learning through this process. Please reach out to me at any time if you're finding yourself or someone you love navigating all this too. Hope this has been a useful point of reference for anyone wondering about the medical side of this whole big C big deal!
In Interlude,
Julie
