To borrow a bit from Dickens, this past week has been “the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I have been on an emotional roller coaster, and unfortunately, I’ve brought my family along for the ride. I know for many people, chemotherapy is incredibly debilitating and hard, but I tolerated it pretty well. I did have some issues—like the time I thought every tooth in my head was coming out, and losing my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes—but for the most part I was just a little more tired and itchier than normal. My assumption that I would tolerate surgery and recovery just as easily couldn’t have been more wrong.
The first few days following surgery were pretty easy. Going in, I knew I would have limited mobility, there would be some pain involved, and that I’d have to take things slower. I didn’t feel like doing much besides reading or watching HGTV and that was ok. Coming home to no electricity complicated things, but we made it through.
My ability to deal with boo-boos is limited to a little neosporin and putting a band aid on it, so I was glad Madison was there to help with the softball-sized drains. I love my husband, but he can be a bull in a china shop and I didn’t want him anywhere near my incisions! Those drains became my nemesis—they were a symbol of my dependency and everything that was wrong in my world. There was no way to hide them. They either had to hang on a lanyard around my neck for everyone to see or be attached to a belt around my waist so that it looked like I had an inner-tube under my shirt. When it came time to change out the bio dressing around the drains even Madison had to call in the big guns, Michelle, to help. Thank goodness for friends with the ability, and all the PPE, to get the job done. After a little scare that only one would be coming out, both drains were removed this week. This not only helped by increasing my arm mobility, it was a boost mentally as well.
But I’ve still struggled this past week. At my very first meeting with the surgeon in February I did not hesitate to let him know that I wanted a double mastectomy. I wanted the cancer gone and I didn’t want it to have anywhere to come back to. Every subsequent appointment I reiterated my desire, even when offered breast conserving surgery. So the grief that swept into my life this past week surprised me. My hair is growing back. I have a few new eyebrow hairs. I even have a couple of eyelashes. But there is now a part of me that is just forever gone. And even though I will have reconstructive surgery, I will not be the same. This has been unexpected and hard to deal with this week. It will take time but I will get through it.
The nerve pain also really kicked in this past week. From my armpit to my elbow there is a constant burning and tingling that never seems to go away or get any better. I do the prescribed exercises and massage and try to go about my day but I can’t seem to find any relief. Every day I wake up and think this will be the day that I turn the corner only to lay down that night saying “maybe tomorrow.” The pain and discomfort is wearing me down. I have learned I am not a very patient patient—I want relief now.
Psalm 30:5 has been on repeat in my head this week, “Weeping may go on all night, but in the morning there is joy.” I am trying to remember that this is only temporary, I will not feel like this forever, that joy is coming. I also know that even in the “night” there is good.
The pathology report this week could not have been better. It showed that the cancer was not in my lymph nodes and had never been in my lymph nodes. This meant that the cancer was completely contained within the tumors in my breast. In addition, the tumors had shrunk 80% from when they were first discovered—primarily due to the combination of the atezolizumab and abraxane—and only 1% of the remaining tumors were active cancer cells. The investigational therapy was successful! Friday morning as I was waiting for my first post-surgery immunotherapy infusion I received a call from the radiation oncologist with the news that based on my pathology report, I would not need to have radiation. This was another huge answered prayer. A little bit later, the nurse that checked me in for my infusion said I was getting a double dose of Mercy today because her name was Mercy and my chemo nurse’s name was Mercy too. I told her God was showering me with His mercy because I had received a wonderful pathology report and had just been told I would not need radiation! The two “Mercys” were just His way of showing out.
Even in the midst of my depression and distress, God was still there, answering my prayers and making His presence known to me. He was close to me this week, collecting each tear that fell. When the standard chemotherapy failed, I began to fear I would lose my life to cancer. With only 20 something women on this clinical trial track I didn’t know if this investigational therapy would work. There wasn’t a lot of data I could read about that would confirm this was the way I should go. All I knew was that from the very beginning of my journey, I felt strongly that to have any chance of surviving this, I had to be a part of the Artemis Clinical Trial. I believe that was God’s direction. God has answered my prayers and the cancer is gone. “You answer our prayers by performing awesome acts of deliverance, O God, our savior.” Psalm 65:5 God has delivered me from chemo-insensitive triple negative breast cancer. He has delivered me from death to life.
I have completed the “Red Sea” part of my journey and I can say like Moses did, “The Lord is my strength and my song; He has given me victory. This is my God, and I will praise Him—my father’s God, and I will exalt Him.” Exodus 15:2 I still have quite a journey ahead of me, some of it may be through the wilderness and it won’t be easy. But God will continue to guide me and there will be joy.
T.S.CONLAY 