Eight-year survivor of triple negative breast cancer!

When I got my diagnosis of triple negative breast cancer (TNBC) in 2013, my doctors told me to stay off the internet because the information on there was dismal. So of course I went there for a while and yes, it was dismal. So, now that I’m eight years down the recovery road with TNBC, I thought it’s about time to pop back in here and say it’s still in remission. Yay!!!

I survived lousy interwebs survival rates for triple negative breast cancer, dose-dense chemotherapy (two weeks apart rather than the usual three weeks apart), tons of side effects, went bald, had breast-conserving bilateral mastectomy, big path report, 25 rounds of radiation, lymphedema of the arm, hand and sometimes, trunk, fatigue, more reconstructive surgery, yadda, yadda, yadda, back to work, super interesting work I might add, my daughter had twin boys, big life stuff, and I am happy to be here!

So if you’ve come to my blog as a TNBC patient/survivor/info seeker, please read on down, or go the the Pages section to the left on this page, and go to the bottom underlined heading, Start here, to see where you really want to start reading.

Taking stock of post-cancer-treatment me

Not really.

I like to think about my breast cancer experience as little possible, and on a good day I succeed. I have many physical reminders of my BC that have nothing to do with the preponderance of pink ribbons and their campaigns:
• my lymphoarm and all the joy it brings me,
• dark ashy hair without a touch of blond,
• aches and pains in my breasts,
• the fact that no bra will ever fit right again (until I get a custom made one with different-sized cups, or wear a prosthesis or padding),
• the suspicion that the lopsidedness is visible to casual onlookers,
• scars on chest/breasts and under my arm, and finally,
• the radiation tattoos.

What I tell myself about each of these points:
• can’t hide the bandages or the sleeve and glove, gonna have them for the rest of my life, so I just have to deal
• thinking that getting some blond highlights back in my hair is a great idea as part of my back to work preparation—just need a whack of cash that I don’t have just now
• can’t take pain pills for that, gonna have them for the rest of my life, so I have to deal
• could have a third breast surgery to reduce the left one, and even though my plastic surgeon is an accomplished anatomical artiste I think I do not want another go-round, so I will just have to deal
• if someone is staring at my chest and discovers one breast is larger than the other, really, what the hell can I do? At present I’m home all day, or running kids around in the car, or going to appointments where I guarantee no one is staring at breasts with anything but a passing or clinical interest, so if that reminder really gets to be too much I will just get fitted for a prosthesis
• I am on my third bottle of Bio Oil in efforts to decrease the appearance of my scars and as long as I keep my arm down and clothing on, the only one that is visible is the one from my port and it’s not so bad now
• the radiation tattoos, particularly the one in the centre of my chest, above almost every neckline I wear, is the one thing I CAN do something about. There is a plastic surgeon here in Toronto who does radiation tattoo removals for free in the month of October (and hopefully shortly thereafter).

Mmmmmmaple: My prize for first follow-up appointment

 

This post is not a Second Cup advert. This photo just does a great job of celebrating maple and making me think I should just pour maple syrup into every coffee I make…

 

May 20, 8 a.m. follow-up with my plastic surgeon. Her nurse marvelled at the ingenious functional work of art in progress that is my left breast. I told the doctor that the nurses, resident even clinical assistants all stared at it in wonder and she laughed that now people will be talking. I said let them talk. If it works it’ll be worth it. They removed the dressings, green and brown bruising, cleaned everything up, removed the drains (yay!) , gave permission for a real honest-to-God-stand-under-running-water shower in 48 more hours, and made a second follow-up appointment for one week later.

Nik had to leave me at hospital because he had a meeting across town, so I elected to head out to Queen Street and see if I felt like a Queen Street streetcar all the way to Etobicoke, then a bus (VERY BUMPY, my body was warning me), or splurge on a cab.

As I stood there weighing the $3 vs $28 question, my eye wandered over to the Second Cup. Being on disability has made me even more cheap budget conscious than I was before as a single parent living in Canada’s second-most expensive city (Vancouver wins the dubious distinction of being most expensive). Second Cup might as well have been a Prada pop-up shop for the attention I gave it every time I went to St. Mike’s over the last 18 months. The only time I had a Second Cup coffee during that time was when Graydon treated me! Staring back at me from the wall beside the counter was the photo I put above. Maple is my favourite all-time flavour. I am most happy when I have an amber, medium and light maple syrup at home in my fridge. Standing there, feeling very sore, and a bit sorry for myself I admit, the pull of a cup of maple-infused steamed frothed milk and coffee was too much.

Three minutes and $5.05 later, I had a medium maple latté in my hand, and five minutes after that I had my butt in the backseat of a cab, and all the way home the driver and I commiserated over the price of coffee, car repairs, fresh lamb, cell phone service, internet charges, you name it.

And I drained that latté.