Learning

I'm truly bored with this being-sick nonsense, which must mean I'm feeling slightly better; my cold has finally bit the dust, and today my back pain dialled itself down to awful from excruciating. I was actually able to do a few things around the house, and without benefit of Tylenol 3s. After two days in which a two- or three-block walk had me in tears, it was a relief. My incisions still make me feel as though I have two large bulldog clamps gripping my armpit, all covered with duct tape, while someone is scoring my outer arm with a nail file.

This thumb-twiddling stage between treatments is odd. It's getting harder and harder to believe that I have a terminal disease, since the terminus is not clearly in view. But in the past few days I've begun learning a bit more about advanced breast cancer. I forced myself to read one of the books a friend was kind enough to order for me, a short, gentle primer written in a fairly unthreatening way, up to and including the usual "end-of-life preparations" chapter (it's called 100 Questions & Answers About Advanced and Metastatic Breast Cancer by Lillie D. Shockney and Gary R. Shapiro). It raised lots of questions (aside from: are advanced and metastatic breast cancer different things, as the title implies?).

Also:

• The book says if you take an aromatase inhibitor like Arimidex, as I did, your bone health should be carefully monitored and you should take bisphosphonates. Why didn't I?
• I learned that if your breast cancer started out being sensitive to estrogen and progesterone (which means it can be treated with long-term hormonal treatment), it can come back without that sensitivity (which mine apparently has). Still, my doctor continues to point out that mine is just slightly sensitive to estrogen; yet she has agreed that I should stop taking my anti-estrogen drug...
• The book mentions that if you have radiation to your chest (not sure yet if I will), to protect your lungs and heart from radiation there is something called an Active Breath Control Device to use during radiotherapy -- presumably it permits the machine to track your chest movements and target the radiation accordingly?
• One risk of getting a central venous catheter for injections is a collapsed lung.
• If the chemo and/or other treatment succeeds in putting me into remission, the quicker I respond to treatment, the longer I'll be in remission. And eventually the treatment will stop working.
• However, it says, "Breast cancer that has metastasized to the bone or soft tissues generally grows more slowly, and responds to treatment more completely and longer, than breast cancer that involves the lung, liver, or brain." That's a relief.
• Still, I will probably be getting chemotherapy for the rest of my life. My oncologist has never said that. Is she just being nice?
  
• There is no reason for me to have a mastectomy, or to have any more mammograms, or even colonoscopies, for the remainder of my life. I guess there's no point in locking the barn door after the horse is gone.

I also learned a few things from my visit to the physiotherapist who specializes in lymphatic care. She massaged my arm vigorously, though she didn't want to touch my incisions in case she might stir up rogue cancer cells. She told me two or three things about breast cancer that were complete surprises to me, all of which have completely fled my memory just now. Sheesh.

Haven't listed any Pollyanna moments in a while:

• Watching the Oscars; Penelope Cruz must be the most beautiful woman on the planet. And Beyoncé Knowles is refreshingly curvy compared with a lot of female performers in skimpy clothing. (BTW, Hugh Jackman is not half-bad as a host.)
• This morning, my mom and I lay in bed in our jammies and talked about old times for a long while.

Tomorrow: Orthopedic surgeon number 2.