Skip to main content

We want to know the plan!

Happy Memorial Day everyone (ou joyeux fêtes des mères si vous etes en France!) I had a great day out at the Basile's on Long Island. Hung out with lovely people and ate Nicole and Marilu's delicious rice and beans and Jorge's always excellent steak:


The menu fit in well with following doctor's orders to eat tons of protein in advance of tomorrow, which is E-day: embryo extraction! It will be a very quick procedure- Grisha will drive us into the city, and we should be in and out of the doctor's office within an hour. So once that's wrapped, what happens next? Well, as promised, here's the plan: 

On Thursday, I go into the hospital for my first chemotherapy treatment. I keep joking that it feels like the first day of school, but much shittier. From what I can understand, basically I go get my blood drawn, see my oncologist, then sit in a chair for 1.5 hours and get the cancer-killing meds via an IV. MSK only has private chemo rooms, which is super nice– G plans to bring the projector so we can watch a movie or something. I've already torn through all of Fleabag, but want to rewatch it with him because it's so gdamn good.* I should be all done by lunchtime. 

After Thursday, I'll continue with treatment every other week for 8 weeks. From there, they'll see how I respond, and then either continue the same pattern for another 8 weeks, or switch to chemo once a week for 12 weeks. So if you're bad at math, I'll be doing this whole chemo thing periodically for the next 4-5 months, at least every other week. 

The goal of chemo is to reduce the size of my cancer as much as possible before surgery. Then, depending on how chemo goes, plus a few other things, my doctor decides how much they'll actually need to cut into me (options include: full mastectomy, double mastectomy, just a lumpectomy... time will tell!) After that, they will likely do some sessions of radiotherapy. At this point, I actually have zero idea what that means– I know this sounds ridiculous and is definitely not true, but I keep picturing a tanning bed just over my chest. 

So that is the plan for now. Each step depends on the last one, so it may change, which I will try to take in stride. And yes, I am a little scared/nervous to start chemo. I just think it's going to be really hard for me to reckon with feeling sick from the treatment for so long. I mean, I get down on myself when I have a cold for a few days. But all of these feelings are also superseded by an absolute eagerness to start killing these stupid cancer cells. And apparently everyone responds differently to chemo, so we'll just have to wait and see how I feel. You'll get sick of hearing me say/write/type this mantra, but for now... one day at a time. 

*Footnote: I want to drop things like this in these posts so when I look back on them in several years, they feel dated in an endearing way (now's a good time to thank Siobhan and Jason for sharing Jason's cancer blog from 2008 that is a partial inspiration for this whole affair, and has so many great late aught Brooklyn references!)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

One year (and counting) in crip time!

Hello friends and family, I hope you all are doing well. Things, like in most places still under lockdown, are pretty much the same over here.  I am still trying to do work. Greg is still trying to (and succeeding at) baking bread. I go for my treatments once every three weeks, and we go on walks and get to sit outside more as the weather gets nicer. but in general, we are in a vortex of time and a confine of space that in many ways, as I mentioned in my last post, is pretty similar to the last year of my life as a cancer patient. It's been this view, day in and day out: I did reach a pretty big milestone a few weeks back- a year since my diagnosis, or my cancerversary, as folks in the club like to call it. I wish I could say that Greg and I had a big old party and celebrated me still being alive, but if I'm being honest, I was in a funk about it all week. I thought a lot about the ambitious and productive person that I was a year ago, pre-illness.* I got angry reliving...

This is cancer!

Cancer is...  Waking up to find hundreds of hairs on your pillow and being scared of the shower because the hair just won't stop falling out.  Drinking water and electrolytes nonstop and still feeling dehydrated all. the. damn. time.  Reading the same paragraph over and over and over and not absorbing any of it.  Thinking your brain will never be clear enough to finish your dissertation.  Wondering about what you would be doing in that moment if you didn't have cancer.  Saying to yourself, "I have cancer." and it still being weird.  Wanting to call your Mami but not wanting to have to answer the question about why you're not having babies yet.  Sore throats and stuffy noses on the first day of summer.  Feeling an added responsibility to imbue meaning into things because the precariousness of life has been revealed to you.  Going from never napping a day in your life to not being able to keep your eyes open by 3 pm. Being ...

Big day for little bear!

To compliment a vom-filled day, I am starting this blog post with a vom-worthy title. When we got up yesterday, Greg said to me, "It's a big day for little bear!" That is one of his many names for me, and sometimes he gets the title of big bear, because, yes we are occasionally gross 🐻s. And what a big day it was! We got to the MSKCC Infusion Center in BK by 8 am. A wonderful nurse named Asha administered my IVs. My parents ran some errands at the Target and Marshalls at Atlantic (Tata M- elle a finalement trouver son propre cady zizette!) Meanwhile, Jeremy, Greg and I hung out and had time for one round of Sushi Go Party (which I won, btw): And then, voila, we were done! I felt absolutely fine leaving the clinic, so we decided to swing by Milk and Honey for brunch. Friends, I hesitate to even post this picture, because the reminder of yesterday still rings hard in my esophagus. But for the sake of the blog, here goes: Let's just say I was a little overzealou...