If you found my blog from Facebook or from me going on about my time lapse project where I'll take a photo of my face every day as i go through my cancer treatment, I apologize. This is a venting post. You can stop reading right now.
I feel like so much of what I come across on the internet about having breast cancer is so saccharine. It bothers me for two reasons: am i just not coping as well as everyone else? and now i feel bad that my thoughts and feelings are so dark when i should apparently be finding 'strength i never knew i had' and shit like that.
So i didn't post my first photo yesterday. I decided that the first one would be my first day of treatment. My first day of treatment (my first infusion of the chemotherapy drug colloquially known as red death) was supposed to be today, but had to be postponed. My oncologist decided that there were signs of infection in my leg wound. My wound doctor says there are no signs of infection. The home care nurse I see twice a day says there are no signs of infection. The oncologist gets the final word and today he refused to treat me. He tried to assuage my fears with a recent study that showed that serious adverse outcomes don't start till a delay of 61 days. Today was day 56. And I'm a scientist. I understand statistics. The abstract he printed out just made me feel worse. Especially since they concluded that folks with TNBC (which I've got) should be granted early chemo because they are especially at risk of recurrence and death after delays.
So here's how strong your breast cancer warrior is: i cried like a 5-year-old in the examination room. I cried so bad my doctor came back three times to repeat his explanation. The fourth with a printout of the abstract of the study I mentioned before. I'm not strong. I'm in a shitty situation and I hate it. And that's how I'm supposed to feel.
It's just been one thing after another. My treatment hasn't gone smoothly from basically the beginning. I feel like there are a lot of places where blame could be directed, but the overwhelming feeling is: "this is my fault. I'm going to die of breast cancer in my early thirties having achieved basically none of my dreams or goals or aspirations." There's nothing anyone can say to make that better. But they certainly do try.
I'm tired of being told to calm down. I'm tired of being told not to dwell on the fact that I didn't get my lump checked out for months after I'd discovered it. Or that I underwent an excisional biopsy without seeking a second opinion. Or that I chose to have my mastectomies with immediate reconstruction without understanding the risk of delays from healing complications. I'm tired of being told there's nothing I can do about all that now (and THEN being told that I should avoid stress). I'm tired of it all. I always tell the doctors I come into contact with that I have a depressive personality hoping that they'll be sensitive enough to know that this sort of advice just makes me feel shittier and has the potential to send me into an all out tailspin of despondency and despair. And they can't keep throwing valium and xanax at the problem.
But I can. So today is a drug vacation day. I'll be taking dilaudid naps until I feel like I can face reality.
I don't want to alarm or upset anyone. But I feel like It's important to not sugarcoat how very terrible a cancer diagnosis can make you feel. I read an article recently about how social media has made it seem like raising children is fun and easy when (in between instagram moments) it can be really taxing and frustrating. I feel like the same thing has happened with cancer. We all know it sucks, but those of us who have it somehow have decided as a group not to talk frankly about just how badly it sucks. I just want other people, especially women with breast cancer, to know that you don't have to play the warrior role. This shit is real and whether you're smiling or kicking and screaming, you'll either survive or not just the same.
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