Living with cancer is like riding a merry-go-round. You have your ups and downs. Eventually you go full circle.
On Wednesday this week, I had a cellulitis recovery follow-up appointment with my surgeon. He pronounced me officially healed from the bacterial infection.
Part of this visit also comprised of him briefing me about the medical rounds last week, where various doctors reviewed my case to determine the next treatment steps.
We’ve gone full circle on this cancer trip.
Originally my surgeon was confident that he had removed all of the cancer and that there were no other cancer cells in adjacent areas.
Then, there was the news two weeks ago that upon further examination of the biopsy results, there was the belief that there were some cancer cells in margins adjacent to the surgery site. At that time, my surgeon had forewarned that a second surgery was a possibility to remove more cancer cells in tissue and skin that would require skin grafting to close the incision.
Some good news came during this latest post-surgery visit.
The team of doctors that reviewed my case had revisited the biopsy results during their meeting. They have ruled that there is no further cancer and confirmed that all of it was removed with the mastectomy. My surgeon is very pleased with this revised opinion. A wave of relief washed over me.
He also advised that a medical oncologist’s office would be contacting me within two weeks to set an appointment for my first treatment consultation. I heard from the medical oncologist’s office the next day, when a phone message from their office was waiting to be returned when we got home from our daughter’s university convocation.
My stomach churned as I returned the phone call. The anxiety came from knowing that this phone call was going to get to the “grit” of this cancer fight in moving to the next phase of active treatment.
There was some comfort in knowing that I am now able to continue to move forward in fighting cancer, and that I will be starting to see my medical oncologist for the first of many appointments. It is going to be a series of ups and downs that will last for several months, starting with chemotherapy.
I will meet my medical oncologist for the first time next Wednesday to discuss my treatment plan. I am fortunate as the medical oncologist who will be treating me is the head of the breast disease site group. She is also the same medical oncologist who called for a case review of my file with the team of doctors.
When they reviewed my case, the doctors also revised the diagnosis on the type of cancer I have. Originally, the first pathologist’s report indicated that I had a very rare form of breast cancer called a carcinosarcoma that lodged in breast tissue and skin. They are now calling my condition a metaplastic breast cancer.
It is still very rare, and affects less than one per cent of women who are diagnosed with breast cancer. It is still an aggressive form of cancer and has a lower survival rate when compared to other forms of breast cancer.
My nurse educator has explained to me that metaplastic breast cancer cells have features and other characteristics similar to sarcoma cancer cells. I am now officially being treated as a breast cancer patient rather than a sarcoma cancer patient. The doctors believe that my metaplastic breast cancer started as an invasive ductal cancer.
The nurse educator further advised that my cancer was at Stage 2A when it was removed. It is considered to be at an earlier stage as there was no spreading of cancer to lymph nodes and there was no metastasis to other areas. This was more good news.
According to my surgeon, I will likely undergo four to six rounds of chemotherapy, followed by a month off to recover. I will then have a month of daily radiation treatments, and will need more time to heal and recover to my pre-cancer state.
I understand that my first chemotherapy treatment is likely to occur before the end of this month. A second one will follow about three weeks later, which puts me within a week or two of our daughter’s wedding. I hope that I am well enough to celebrate this happy occasion in her life.
Seven weeks ago today, I had my mastectomy. It has been a difficult and frustrating recuperation. It took longer than it should have. My patience was tested time and time again. However, “Sandra’s stubbornness” has served me well in fighting the setbacks that come with this disease.
There were drainage issues with my incision. There were two visits to emergency departments. One resulted in a hospital admission that began a three-week battle with cellulitis, which required daily home care and delayed my recovery.
There have been mobility issues on my surgical side with my arm, neck, and shoulder. These past three weeks have been filled with 45 minutes per day of arm stretching and strengthening exercises, coupled with two-physiotherapy/acupuncture appointments per week to regain the use of my upper body. I’m progressing well. The physio sessions are expected to continue until chemotherapy starts.
My surgeon has also advised me that I should undergo specialized physiotherapy to treat a post surgical condition called cording. This is a form of scar tissue that develops and causes binding on the side of your upper torso near the surgery site. The cording hinders the upward and outward movements of my arm. In the next few days, I will meeting with a different physiotherapist whose sole practice is to treat complications related to breast cancer that are not delivered by physiotherapy “generalists”.
Despite all of this unpleasantness, I had two joyful “life’s milestones” occasions to celebrate this week. I was well enough to attend my daughter’s bridal shower this past weekend, and her university convocation yesterday.
Since the diagnosis, I have known that there is a distinct possibility that I would be in chemo treatments by the time of my daughter’s wedding. She has said that if I need to come in a wheelchair to her wedding, then so be it.
I am bent, but I am not broken as I live with cancer. I fight on with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
How do I spell freedom? C-A-R. I now have the ability to drive a car again.
Monday night, nearly seven weeks after my mastectomy and cellulitis post-surgery complications, my physiotherapist has cleared me to drive a car.
Oh Joy!
I have been in physiotherapy and acupuncture twice a week for the last three weeks to regain mobility and the range of motion in my arm, neck and shoulder as some of my other post-surgery complications. My daily one-hour stretching sessions and exercises to regain my strength and the use of my arm and shoulder are finally paying off.
The last seven weeks have been a test of my patience and independence. I have felt somewhat of a hostage in living with cancer and being housebound.
I didn’t realize how much I have taken for granted in being able to get into a car and drive using my arm to steer a wheel. It has been such a natural act since I was 16. I have never been away from driving a car for more than a few days in several decades of driving.
I also have taken for granted the daily ability to freely lift, stretch, wave, and raise my arm up over my head to put on clothing or do simple household tasks requiring a full range of motion in using my arm and shoulder.
Ah, the simple things in life in living with cancer! It’s now a little daily thrill to be able to put on t-shirts, pullovers, and other lift-over-the-head garments. This ability comes just in time, allowing me to move away from weeks of wearing sweats and zippered tops, to wearing something dressier to our daughter’s university convocation on Thursday this week.
In this post surgery recovery, I have gained a new respect for independence and the freedom to come and go as I please in hopping into a car and driving away. These past few weeks, I have had to rely on others to get me to medical appointments and errands. This is new for me.
It has been frustrating and hard to ask for help as I have lived many years doing these day-to-day tasks independently. I now have a sense of how it feels to lose your license and your freedom when you can no longer drive.
Herein lies a lesson for me. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s become necessary in living with cancer.
Slowly, but surely I am starting to own this required change in behavior. It’s happening in baby steps. In a way, maybe this is how I am evolving in my ability to ask for help. It’s feasible that in the next few months I will have to rely on others to get me to even more appointments should chemotherapy and radiation become part of my next treatment phases. I may have a better idea about this after my next appointment with my oncology surgeon today.
In the meantime, as soon as my homecare nurse finishes changing my surgical wound dressing, I will be jumping into my car to run errands in the neighborhood. I will heed to my physiotherapist’s caution to return to driving slowly and for short distances until my arm and shoulder strength continues to increase. If I don’t, she’ll know that I didn’t listen when I see her later this week.
A new day of adventures wait for me outside of my house. I’m looking forward to riding away today in my car as I continue to learn to live with my cancer diagnosis with Strength, Courage, and Determination.