Jaci Dawn

I had my post-op appointment today and it went screamingly well – except for a couple bumps. I write this because so many women have no clue what they are getting into when it comes to breast cancer (I am one). The general stuff is thrown out there, but there’s the up close and personal stuff that doesn’t seem to be talked about.

#1. They don’t even talk about radiation treatment until 4-5 weeks AFTER the surgery. I jumped on that one, in part because I received a strange phone message from the “body oncologist’s assistant” asking when did I start the letrozole (femarole)(estrogen blocker). I hadn’t started it because it states I should *not* start it until after radiation. I tried calling back but she didn’t return my call and I (wrongly) assumed I wouldn’t have radiation. I will bring that up to the body oncologist when I see him in two weeks. Follow up is important.

#2. I won’t know how much radiation or how long until I meet the radiologist next week on the first of June. I did tell my oncologist surgeon that as long as it doesn’t interfere with my road trip in late July to see my grandchildren, I’m pretty cool with whatever happens. She gave me a very long and heartfelt hug over the loss of our son two+ years ago and the fact I haven’t seen all these kids together since then. It’s an important road trip.

#3. I got my results today. The cancer was 1.5cm, which is about the size of a dime, not the .8cm they thought it was. Still in the Stage 1 zone, and they got it all. I am, for all purposes, “cured”. Radiation is a second layer of protection to prevent further development as is the hormone blocker I will be on for the next five years. I remain among the very lucky.

I don’t know how this will affect my other summer plans. I may have to change things up a bit but I won’t know until next week. Radiation could be one week or it could take several weeks. I have plans the first week of July as well as the last week, but I will sacrifice that first week if I have to (sorry to my friend with whom I have made plans) BUT I may not have to. It’s all a waiting game.

#4 No one tells you how much of a waiting game cancer is.

I am healing well. In a week, I will be able to lift 5#+. That means gardening, building that retainer wall, and hauling things to the thrift store in order to declutter. BUT I don’t have an inkling as to how radiation will affect those plans. Square one: wait and see.

In summary: don’t jump the gun and don’t expect the worst. So far, it has all been the best possible outcomes (aside from actually having cancer in the first place) but I have been jumping the gun much too often. Breathe, Jaci, breathe. Patience.

What I DO know and celebrate is this: NO CHEMOTHERAPY. And that is a huge bonus.

On a side note, while I was at the oncologist’s office setting up appointments today, we fell into a discussion on perfumes. I won’t bore you with how we got to that conversation, but I feel it is important to note the context. I don’t wear perfume most of the time. When I do, I wear very little: you would have to be intimate with me to smell what I do wear. I do this because I have been in and out of doctor’s and dermatologist offices: people have serious reactions to perfumes, including anaphylactic seizures. Deodorants, hair spray, shampoo, and perfume can all be triggers. I know the people on the allergic side of this equation. We (the scheduler, the assistant nurse, and myself) all agreed this is a huge issue and it is ignored by so many people in the public sector.

I once worked for an employer who came straight to work from the shower, doused in after-shave, body wash, and cologne. I’m not allergic, but he reeked of a sweet perfume. TOO MUCH. You are not supposed to be able to smell yourself. Perfume or cologne should be sprayed into the air and you wave your arm/write under the descending droplets, capturing just a hint of the scent. That’s it. No more. And use unscented deodorant, please. It’s important to the person next to you.