Over the past year, I've had a terrible time grappling with the fact that people still die of breast cancer. It just blows my mind. How could this still be taking lives? It's too long of a battle. Where is the equivalent of the discovery of penicillin? But, at least for triple negative breast cancer, we don't have one and it is no joke aggressive.
The plan is four weeks of radiation and we hope and pray that this is an isolated incident. And as we walk this path, I need all the karma, positive thoughts, universe-provides, prayers and prayer circles we can muster. Let this be it.
I've opted for a new radiation oncologist at Sibley. Going from Georgetown to Sibley is sort of like going from the nasty basement of a school in the city to the modern new construction of a school in the exurbs. The space is beautiful. And private. And quiet. With natural sunlight. LEED certified. No dead mouse in trap in the waiting room. Don't think that made the blog, but had to report that to the receptionist during my last round of radiation.
But before we chose lattes over lead paint, we conferred with my current (former) radiation oncologist. He liked the new plan better than his. So, we all agreed and off to Sibley I go. I am nearly ecstatic about the change. I am just over Georgetown. I mean, the people there are wonderful, really wonderful, but between chemo in closets and partially partitioned spaces, radiation in the basement and the ICU, I'm ready for a new venue.
Back to the plan, the primary effects will be fatigue, comparable to last time, which wasn't too bad. And hair loss. Which, as you may recall, was way worse than too bad. For whatever reason, I am resigned and not too worried about going through it again. I've been assured the hair loss won't be painful and I get to keep my eyebrows. See, I wasn't too greedy. (I should have asked for more!!). So, it will suck, but, eh, it all sucks.
For the treatments, I have to wear a scary, insane-asylum-patient-from-the-early-1900s mask. I had that made today and it wasn't too awful. Actually the most comparable experience was the plaster cast masks we made for self-portraits in art class in high school. Minus the excitement. But the team was really strong and efficient. It just felt organized. Which I like. So, that's the plan.
Back home, the boys are good. (For real). My head is my own again (For realer everyday). Days are getting longer. Almost through February, shortest and longest month of the year.
