2/19/14
Isaac will try
his first banana tonight. It is the sweetest thing he has tasted since the
sugar water and Manischewitz at his bris and it is going to blow his mind. The
first time he tries foods he makes a face like we are feeding him a pureed rotting
whale carcass, but a few days in, he cries between spoonfulls because we are
not transporting it from bowl to mouth fast enough. Then he gags and coughs
and cries harder. We switch to the bottle of formula and wipe the snot, tears,
food, and spit up off everyone.
I am recovering
from surgery just fine and it went relatively smoothly. There was a big
discussion beforehand about whether I needed to take a pregnancy test despite
completely shut down ovaries from the chemo but ultimately, they made me
pee in a cup. Then a nurse accidentally gave me three Aspirin instead of
Tylenol so the surgeon had to use some kind of spray to stop the bleeding
during the procedure. Apparently, that worked. It is incredibly difficult not
to be able to lift Isaac but the pain is manageable. My range of motion is
terrible. It may take a long time to get back to the medium lane at the
Meadowbrook community pool. Three drains still in. They need to be stripped and
squeezed out every few hours, a kind of a watery pinkish liquid with chunks of
goo. Matt faints like the goat in the face of certain medical procedures (try talking with him about kidney transplants, the genetics of blood types, blood donation,
stitches, epidurals and see what happens but please use a helmet) so I have been in charge of the
draining and measuring, and he is making a mean Excel figure to chart my
progress.
Regarding the
cancer, the news from pathology was not good. I did not have a complete
response to the chemotherapy. There were still cancer cells in my breast and
two lymph nodes despite the five months of chemo and nice looking MRIs. Perfect, my tumor had a cloaking device. This means that there is likely cancer left in
my blood and it is more likely than not to metastasize. No amount of positive
thinking and pink ribbons and strength of character can change that reality. My
oncologist recommends that along with radiation we try 4-6 more months of chemo
and maybe some experimental drugs and treatments to try to stop this from
coming back as a terminal cancer. It is hard to say how well that will work
because sample sizes for my age group/cancer type/drug regime etc. are pretty
small. Some research suggests that this will just not work and if the cancer is going to win, it will win, more drugs or no. Other research suggests more chemo could make a difference. So on we go. There won't be a way to tell if the next set of treatments worked other than that I'll continue to be alive in three or five or ten years, or I won't. Of course Matt and I are sad and sort of angry at the universe. We miss planning our whole lives together. Waking up
for surgery, I hoped for a whole evening that I would get my old life back sometime
soon. But we're getting better at planning whole weekends together and there's a new life to figure out. We continue to be in awe of the incredible love and support
of our family and friends. Flowers! Pies! Good tv series! Meals! Housecleaning gift certificates! Isaac says to tell you that he doesn't like that last item because his greatest joy is to feast on dust bunnies and foreign objects from the floor.
