I've been thinking about this blog for quite some time,
unsure which angle of this cancer journey I wanted to focus on for this entry.
There's been a lot that’s happened since the last blog posted January of 2014
(yikes, sorry about the delay!) I've noted certain events via Facebook posts,
but those statuses captured only a fraction of this experience. There's just—SO
MUCH—from emotional swings, to physical changes, to how this has affected those
I love. It's a journey I wish on no one, yet at the same time there have been
some positives that I wouldn't change for anything.
Summary Update: I was diagnosed with breast cancer on
October 1, 2013. It came only four months after our move to California. It's
crazy to think about how that year changed in so many ways. Brandy’s mom died
of cancer in December 2012, so when 2013 began, the pain was still fresh. By
March, however, we were healing and seeking change. We decided to uproot and
move west; we hit the road a few months later and California became our new home
on June 4, 2013. As you see, we hadn't been in California long
before the fresh start we had dreamed about came crashing down around us. Neither
of us would have known that by the end of 2013 I'd be in chemo fighting my own
cancer battle.
I wrapped up 16 rounds of chemo on April 15th of
last year. Can you say ecstatic? I was genuinely filled with an abundance of
joy. My hair and eyebrows and lashes slowly started to grow back and I regained
some energy too (chemo is ridiculously draining…sometimes a trip to the kitchen
and back is overwhelming). On May 27th I had a double mastectomy
with immediate reconstruction (placement of tissue expanders) and removal of
all lymph nodes under my right armpit; this was because I had a positive node
at diagnosis and my surgeon and I agreed to remove them all. After surgery I
was feeling great! Everything seemed to be on track. The pathology report
indicated no metastasis and my surgeon assured me that all of the cancer had
been removed. We even took out my port, which is a small device implanted under
my skin just beneath my clavicle. The port is where chemo is administered.
On July 7th we swapped the expanders for the
implants. Again, all went smoothly and I healed wonderfully. Next stop:
radiation. I simply did not want to do it. I battled this decision over and
over and finally resigned to having it as an added precaution to prevent future
recurrence. Radiation began July 28th. It was every morning for five
weeks, 25 rounds total. Well, I now have to backtrack…
Just before radiation began, I noticed a small bump in the
bend of my right arm. I didn't concern myself with it. With all I had been
through and being aware of potential issues I could have with my right arm, I
cast any concern aside. Well a second one popped up a couple weeks later. Then
a third and fourth, all in random areas of my upper body. I reached out to my
primary doctor and was told to see my oncologist. I was in my second to last
week of radiation when I met with an oncologist after radiation. It was then
that I knew. He didn't say anything other than the lumps needed a biopsy. But
it was the look on his face…I read the results in his bleak expression. I
hadn't made it out of the building before bursting in tears. I cried a lot that
day. The following week I had the biopsy and on the afternoon of Friday August
29th, shortly after completing my final round of radiation that
morning, I learned that the lumps (subcutaneous nodules) were cancerous. Talk
about a blow….I was devastated. I had finally reached what was the end of the
journey only to learn it was starting all over again. I used a lot of Kleenex
in the doctor’s office that day. The following Friday, after two scans, I
learned the cancer had spread to my liver and chemo needed to resume ASAP; I
started again after the weekend. The drugs were new to me, quite powerful, and had
me on my behind for days. I experienced nausea and vomiting and pounds dropped
quickly; by the end of September I was 25 pounds lighter than when I began the journey
a year before. In November, after follow up scans, I was told my liver was
“looking great” but it seemed the cancer had found its way to a small portion
of bone also. My body adjusted to the new chemo, as well as the bone
strengthening treatments I started in November, and by end of December, I was
handling it much better. And then the New Year…
The first weekend in January I started experiencing excruciating
pain on my right side and down my right arm. There was a large, tight lump on
my side, under my armpit that I described as a cramped muscle that wouldn't
relax. Suddenly, I was unable to move my arm, flip my hand, nor sleep properly.
After several days I went to the ER. To wrap up this part of the story, I had
two surgeries during my eight day stay; my doctors needed to be sure there was
no infection and particularly, no cancer. My plastic surgeon removed my right
implant, cleaned the area and placed it back in. Well, the pain didn't subside so
several days later I was back in the OR to remove the implant for good. Oh talk
about putting on a brave face. I had no idea that was the beginning of a month
long depression.
I had handled most of my cancer journey in stride, but the loss
of my breast, leaving me with just one, was much harder than I anticipated. It
hurt my feelings deeply, and had me questioning why I was striving so hard to
get well when it seemed I only faced setback after setback. I had truly reached
the point of giving up. The medication I was prescribed by four different
doctors temporarily helped ease my emotional pain. The last couple weeks of
January are a blur; honestly, I barely remember them. I was under the influence of three pain
relievers, Valium, and muscle relaxers. I took all of them daily, more than
once each. My oncologist refused to refill the meds that she hadn't prescribed
and even though I argued her at the time, I’m grateful for that. I was forced
to accept the disappointments with a clear mind. And still, I cried every
single day.
I was praying more than ever. Those around me continued to pray
and it seemed contagious as even more people I don't know emailed and contacted
me with prayers as well. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that God placed my
need for prayer on the hearts of so many. I needed it and it brought me through
the darkness in which I had begun to spiral so quickly.
My sister arrived mid-February and stayed for a week and a
half. Because I'm not working, most days I'm home alone with idle time. If that
time is not used properly, that means an idle brain as well. We all know what
an idle brain can do and that’s create havoc in the mind with incessant,
wandering thoughts. Her visit was a blessing. She got me out of the house, even
if just to go for a walk. If we didn't get out, we stayed in and talked. We
read scripture. She prayed over me. She kept me busy and uplifted and I needed
that. It prevented me from sitting alone dwelling on my mortality. Although I
have purposely avoided reading about the average prognosis for women in my
situation, I'm aware and trust me, it's murder on the brain if allowed.
The journey continues… As of right now, my oncologist is making
treatment decisions visit by visit. I've reached a new place in this journey,
though. It was only last week that I had the courage to pray the scariest
prayer of my life. While I pray for and believe in healing miracles, I had to
surrender it ALL to God. It was the only way to find the peace I had been
craving. My life is in His hands. I'd love to believe I've only lived half my
years and will live another 42. But whatever His will is, I accept it. That
doesn’t mean I’ll stop praying for healing, because oh yes, I will be. ;-) It simply
means I've put all my trust in Him. I can move forward day by day with a peace
I didn’t have before. You know the saying: pray or worry, don’t do both (first
time I heard that it was during a 50 Cent interview with Oprah; thank you 50!).
So, onward and forward with no worries!
I can't end this blog without thanking Brandy for her
continued strength and courage throughout this process. With all that she's
endured over the last several years regarding close losses, she has managed to
maintain the caregiver role with passion. Over the past year and a half she’s
given me well over one hundred shots, bathed me when I was unable to do so
myself, cooked and cleaned and made sure all of my needs were met. We've cried
together and prayed together; we've prayed together and prayed alone. The level
of intimacy we've developed is like nothing I could have imagined. Our
connection and bond is unbreakable.
This blog isn’t written to sadden anyone, but instead I pray
it’s encouraging in some way. I find refuge in blogs and books written by women
who have gone through this journey. If sharing my experience can benefit
someone else, I’m happy to share. J
My mindset right now is to absorb each day with whatever it brings. If it’s a
quiet day at home, that’s fine, I have books to read, music to dance to and
loved ones around me. If I’m out and about soaking up California sunshine, even
better. If it’s day for treatment, all right, the treatment is only helping to
rid muy body of these busybody cells. Life goes on…I look forward to a trip
home in May. I look forward to celebrating Brandy’s birthday in Hawaii this
summer. I look forward to whatever is next because I trust and believe that
it’s all for my good.
©Nikki Rashan March 2015
