Give me a C-H-E-M-O!

So I knew there was a reason that I never got around to updating my blog with my chemo plans. A week ago I saw the oncologist. The news overall was really good. I'm definitely Stage I, which means it's very early. I'm also estrogen/progesterone receptor positive, which is also a good thing even though I have no idea what it means. The best news: he's giving me only four cycles of chemotherapy (rather than the six I anticipated ... yay!). He then scheduled me to begin my TC regimen (Taxotere and Cytoxan) this coming Thursday, and assured me I would do great, feel great, look great. Then he confirmed I would lose my hair.

Today, I saw my general surgeon (whom I love), and she officially released me. I also saw my plastic surgeon, who said things are progressing very nicely. "So far so good," were his exact words. However, when he heard I was scheduled to begin chemotherapy in two days, his tone changed. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," he said. "Irradiated skin (which I have thanks to my 24-year-old cancer treatment ... I'm sure you've all noticed my glowing personality anyway) heals more slowly than average skin. Plus chemotherapy makes you more susceptible to infection and will cause the wounds to heal even more slowly. I'm going to call your oncologist and see if it's OK to postpone for a couple of weeks."

So he took off my steri-strips, then used dermabond to reinforce the healing incision. "Is that SuperGlue for the skin?" I asked, jokingly?

"Actually, yes. It's the exact same thing but it's been formulated for skin use and obviously sterilized."

Who knew? He then said "I'll be back in a few minutes. You just sit there and let it dry."

OK.

Five minutes later he returned. "I've just talked to Dr. Funnyguy (my oncologist ... name changed to protect the innocent) and he's agreed to postpone your chemo for two weeks."

Whoopee. I was just getting myself all psyched up for it. I already bought a wig - a really cute and sassy one. I've been eating ultra-healthy to shore up my immune system. I've been exercising every day because I should. Two more weeks? They say it takes three weeks to form a habit so maybe these measures will stick. We'll see. Unfortunately that means two more weeks on the back end which means I won't be done by Thanksgiving, but I will be done by Christmas, so there's that.

It also means I can celebrate Bill's birthday (and mine for that matter) and feel good all at the same time. I can also ease back into life ... work ... mom stuff. All that jazz.

All things considered, the news is great. Yeah, I have cancer, but we caught it early and it's of a kind that's got a great success rate. How lucky am I to have had cancer twice in my lifetime, and both times have it be of a form that's one of the "curable" ones (don't tell Dr. Funnyguy I said that ... he'll say "breast cancer is something we don't cure, we manage for the rest of your life.")?

I've thought a lot about my first oncologist lately, comparing him to my present guy and remembering specific moments in time. Like the first time I met him. I was with my mom and dad, and we were ushered into his wood-paneled office. He sat in a big red chair. He didn't say much with me in the room ... (Mom ran blocker for me that time around. Best blocker ever!) What he did say, I remember vividly. "Well, if you have to have cancer, you've got the right kind."

Well I had two bouts of Hodgkin's Disease which makes this my third. Third time's a charm, so this will be it, right?