I'm Exhausted and Nothing Has Really Happened
07.06.05 (12:24 pm) [edit]
"I observe the physician with the same diligence as he the disease." ~ John Donne
I was on vacation last week, so I spent the bulk of it trying to learn as much as possible about breast cancer. I determined that the type I have accounts for only one to two percent of breast cancer diagnoses. It is invasive, but doesn't tend to metastasize. It grows slowly. I also have some pre-cancerous tissue, but I'm not any clearer about that than I was at the beginning of last week.
I decided to try to get treatment at one of the best cancer treatment facilities in the country. As soon as I made that decision, I started to wonder why I thought my situation warranted it. Even though I banished the thought, it's continued to nag at me from time to time. I guess the fact that it's a fairly rare form of breast cancer was a huge deciding factor for me. I think that if my dad had gotten better treatment of his prostate cancer at the beginning, maybe he'd still be alive now. (Well, maybe not.) The surgeon who did the sterotactic biopsy told me he felt "comfortable" performing the surgery and that he'd be happy to refer me to an oncologist. He said the oncologist would only be able to hazard a guess about treatment until the surgery was performed. Ditto with the radiologist. The more I learn about breast cancer, the more I doubt his judgment.
Aside from the rarity of the type of cancer, the other issue that is very troubling is the the lymph node biopsy, which will be performed at the same time as the cancerous tissue is removed. I've learned that there are far-reaching ramifications if it isn't performed properly. Having an experienced surgeon doesn't guarantee anything, but at least I'll have a better chance of success.
I got considerably more anxious as I attempted to set up appointments and get my medical information ready for the hospital. My therapist keeps telling me to just take some Xanax. Actually, so did my psychiatrist. Sometimes I take it, sometimes I just try to manage it through conscious breathing. I've started doing yoga more instead of my usual aerobics and weight training.
My hubby goes on crying jags from time to time. I am as comforting as I can manage at any given time. He started crying last week and I suddenly started wondering if he knew something about my cancer that I didn't know. Well of course he doesn't.
Cancer is a participatory event, I've found. Everyone who knows about it wants to offer advice or they just really, really want to talk about it. I'm mindful of their caring, but sometimes I don't want to talk about it. I don't need anyone's advice...unless they've had breast cancer, too. They want to cheer me up. All of that is just exhausting. I have to deal with my own ongoing anxiety, verging on panic. I don't have the energy to engage with everyone who wishes to talk with me about it.
To top it all off, my huskie, Miss Woo, has been terrified for three days now because of fireworks going off in my neighborhood. (We haven't had any rain for 29 days now and the temperature has been hovering in the upper 90's. These people are lunatics.) She's been keeping me awake every night and the lack of sleep isn't doing much good for my emotional stability.
Tonight I hope to do some yoga and get a full night's sleep. We'll see....
America held hostage day 1371
Bushism of the day:
"I went to the Congress last September and proposed fundamental—supplementa l funding, which is money for armor and body parts and ammunition and fuel."
Source: The Washington Post, "A New Problem, or the Wrong Word?" Dana Milbank, Sept. 7, 2004
Website of the day: America's Second Harvest
http://www.secondharvest.org/" title="http://www.secondharvest.org/" target="_blank"http://www.secondharvest.org/...
I was on vacation last week, so I spent the bulk of it trying to learn as much as possible about breast cancer. I determined that the type I have accounts for only one to two percent of breast cancer diagnoses. It is invasive, but doesn't tend to metastasize. It grows slowly. I also have some pre-cancerous tissue, but I'm not any clearer about that than I was at the beginning of last week.
I decided to try to get treatment at one of the best cancer treatment facilities in the country. As soon as I made that decision, I started to wonder why I thought my situation warranted it. Even though I banished the thought, it's continued to nag at me from time to time. I guess the fact that it's a fairly rare form of breast cancer was a huge deciding factor for me. I think that if my dad had gotten better treatment of his prostate cancer at the beginning, maybe he'd still be alive now. (Well, maybe not.) The surgeon who did the sterotactic biopsy told me he felt "comfortable" performing the surgery and that he'd be happy to refer me to an oncologist. He said the oncologist would only be able to hazard a guess about treatment until the surgery was performed. Ditto with the radiologist. The more I learn about breast cancer, the more I doubt his judgment.
Aside from the rarity of the type of cancer, the other issue that is very troubling is the the lymph node biopsy, which will be performed at the same time as the cancerous tissue is removed. I've learned that there are far-reaching ramifications if it isn't performed properly. Having an experienced surgeon doesn't guarantee anything, but at least I'll have a better chance of success.
I got considerably more anxious as I attempted to set up appointments and get my medical information ready for the hospital. My therapist keeps telling me to just take some Xanax. Actually, so did my psychiatrist. Sometimes I take it, sometimes I just try to manage it through conscious breathing. I've started doing yoga more instead of my usual aerobics and weight training.
My hubby goes on crying jags from time to time. I am as comforting as I can manage at any given time. He started crying last week and I suddenly started wondering if he knew something about my cancer that I didn't know. Well of course he doesn't.
Cancer is a participatory event, I've found. Everyone who knows about it wants to offer advice or they just really, really want to talk about it. I'm mindful of their caring, but sometimes I don't want to talk about it. I don't need anyone's advice...unless they've had breast cancer, too. They want to cheer me up. All of that is just exhausting. I have to deal with my own ongoing anxiety, verging on panic. I don't have the energy to engage with everyone who wishes to talk with me about it.
To top it all off, my huskie, Miss Woo, has been terrified for three days now because of fireworks going off in my neighborhood. (We haven't had any rain for 29 days now and the temperature has been hovering in the upper 90's. These people are lunatics.) She's been keeping me awake every night and the lack of sleep isn't doing much good for my emotional stability.
Tonight I hope to do some yoga and get a full night's sleep. We'll see....
America held hostage day 1371
Bushism of the day:
"I went to the Congress last September and proposed fundamental—supplementa l funding, which is money for armor and body parts and ammunition and fuel."
Source: The Washington Post, "A New Problem, or the Wrong Word?" Dana Milbank, Sept. 7, 2004
Website of the day: America's Second Harvest
http://www.secondharvest.org/" title="http://www.secondharvest.org/" target="_blank"http://www.secondharvest.org/...
