One Down, Thirty-Two to Go!

Well, I did it. I survived my first radiation treatment. I'm told that this first treatment is the "worst" of the lot because (a) you're super anxious; and (b) you're in the required and very awkward and uncomfortable position a lot longer than usual because they are taking a bunch of xrays to make sure they have everything lined up the way it needs to be lined up.

I wasn't expecting this to be difficult at all, but it was a little unpleasant, truth be told. I breezed on into the Dan Rudy Cancer Center with a bit of a bop at 2:00, only to emerge an hour and forty-five minutes with a headache and a good dose of stress. Really, it was no big deal, but it was sort of a weird mental thing being in that contraption for 30 minutes while a bunch of people were looking at x-rays of my insides. I'm tired of being scrutinized.

I'm told that by the fourth treatment, I'll relax and it won't be bad at all. The good news is that the treatment itself lasts all of about three minutes. The bad news is that I have to show up 32 more times and climb up onto that table and into the strange and uncomfortable contraption. Without question, though, this beats the heck out of other cancer treatments, so I'm not complaining.

Here is a photo of Dr. Rosenblatt and me standing in front of the radiation machine, which I think I'll dub "the alien monster," as well as a photo of the monster itself. I thought it might be nice to post some pics....

Cancer Lingo: "Rads"

In cancer lingo, I'll start rads (short for radiation treatment) tomorrow. As I mentioned last week, I went last Thursday to get measured and set up for the treatments. Evidently, this is quite a science and very high-tech, and a lot goes into designing the treatment and getting everything just right. Of course, with rads, we are treating cancer with something that can actually cause cancer (seems a bit strange, doesn't it?), so they have to make sure that they only target the areas they want to treat, and not other parts of the body (like your heart, lungs, etc). And so, as part of the initial set-up appointment last week, I had a CT scan during which they evidently measured all of my insides in order to make sure that the beams of radiation only hit the breast tissue and not my internal organs. That would stink.

They also "marked" me, so I look a little freakish now with big blue and black markings on my torso with plastic tape over them. The tape already came off once (thanks to profuse sweating during one of my workouts over the weekend), causing me to have to go back in yesterday to be remarked.

The great news is that I'll start treatments tomorrow, which means that I should wrap up the 33 treatments right at the beginning of February. The folks at the Dan Rudy Cancer Center who run the radiation department are more than delightful, so if I've got to go someplace 33 times, I can't think of a better place (well, on second thought, I can think of better places to go repeatedly, but if I've got to go for this kind of thing, this is the place for me).

I saw Dr. Rosenblatt, my radiation oncologist, again last week, and on the off chance that he's reading this, let me reiterate how much I like and admire him!! : )

Okay, that's it for now. Off to finish addressing Christmas cards. Am I the only person around who does this anymore? I get fewer and fewer cards each year, but religiously send my 150 cards out to friends and family. It's a tradition I'm not willing to give up. Call me crazy.

Happy Holidays!

Erin

Elizabeth Edwards

I was in Paris when Elizabeth Edwards died earlier this week. I caught only the headline and did not have the opportunity to read much about it. Since I've been up since four a.m. this morning due to jet lag, however, I had some time to read up on her battle with breast cancer and her untimely death this week. She really was an amazing woman. I have read in the past that she could be very difficult to deal with, but the things that she accomplished in her lifetime, and the storms she weathered, were remarkable.

I read this morning that by the time Elizabeth discovered her lump, it was the size of a plum. That's big. She also admitted to not having gone for routine mammogram screening like she should have. By the time she was diagnosed in 2004 (the day after her husband and Kerry lost the presidential election), she was Stage II. Her cancer was treated and seemed to be gone, but then it returned, and it later returned again.

It makes me very sad to think about all that has happened to the Edwards family through the years (the death of their beloved son, Wade, the difficulties of political races, John's infidelity). But perhaps most tragic of all is the fact that Elizabeth's life could have been spared or at least extended had she done a simple thing -- gone for her yearly annual mammogram screenings. This is, of course, how my cancer was detected, and I consider myself incredibly blessed to live in a time when we have access to technology that can detect this disease before it has a chance to cause extensive harm.

I would implore all of my female friends to learn a lesson from Elizabeth Edwards' death, and to be vigilant about your annual breast screenings. May Elizabeth Edwards rest in peace, and may her family know the love of God during what is bound to be an incredibly difficult time.

Erin

Paris!

I've just returned from four glorious days in Paris. Yes, that's right, this breast cancer patient got a reprieve from the good doctors here in Nashville to take the trip that Eli and I had planned a while ago, and to begin radiation treatments upon my return. So, the dichotomies of my life continue: the great privilege of spending four days in one of the most amazing cities on earth followed, within 24 hours, by heading off to the cancer center this morning at 10 a.m. to get started with my radiation treatment. Today is the "measuring" day; not sure what that entails, but I will post a report when it's all over with. I do know that once I begin treatments (which I'm guessing will be early next week), I'll be required to show up there 33 consecutive days (excluding weekends) for a little blast of radiation. I'm expecting this to be fairly easy, but we'll see. Hope you are all well, and talk to you soon.

Erin

My Trip to the Oncologist's Office

I had my first appointment with my medical oncologist, Dr. Nancy Peacock, today. She was great. Granted, I was highly annoyed because I had to wait nearly 45 minutes past my appointment time to see her, but once she entered my room, you would never have known that she had other patients to see -- ever. I almost had to rush HER out of the room at the end of our 45-minute meeting. Seriously, this woman was NOT in a hurry with me, which was so nice, since I had a ton of questions for her. The upshot of the meeting? No chemotherapy for me!! Whew!! We will proceed with radiation treatments, beginning in December, after which I'll start a five-year course of a drug called Tamoxifen. Tamoxifen, which studies have shown can cut recurrence risk in half, somehow binds to estrogen before it can move around in the body and cause things like breast cancer.

Dr. Peacock and I talked quite a bit about recurrence risk and the things that do and do not contribute to that risk. Unfortunately, studies have shown a connection between alcohol consumption and breast cancer, so I'll be cutting back a bit on my wine drinking (the studies show that seven or fewer drinks or glasses of wine per week is fine; more than that can increase your risk). I don't think that I drink much more than seven glasses of wine per week, but it depends on the week, I suppose. Personally, I find this whole alcohol/breast cancer thing highly annoying and incredibly unfair. If any group of folks deserve to drink wine to their hearts' content, it's all the ladies out there who have had and beat breast cancer, but we have to deal with reality and if the docs are telling me to limit my alcohol consumption then you can bet I'm going to do it!

So, on this Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I'm feeling beyond blessed to have received such good news from the oncologist. You can imagine that Thanksgiving will be particularly special for me and for our family this year. I hope that it is for each of you, as well.

Have a wonderful, safe and blessed Thanksgiving with your families.

Erin

Dr. B

Had a great appointment with Dr. B yesterday. She said I'm healing up fine, and that I can start running again. Yeah!! She has the nicest office staff. Those people have been incredibly kind, polite, caring and respectful to me through all of this. If anyone lives in Nashville or close by, and is ever in need of a surgeon (Dr. B is a general surgeon, although she does a lot of breast surgery, and is widely regarded as one of the best breast surgeons in town), I really and truly cannot say enough about Jeanne Ballinger and her staff. Highly, highly recommended.

Next up: meeting with the medical oncologist next Tuesday. Not sure whether I'll post between now and then, or not, but if not, I'll try to post something about the appointment before we leave for our Thanksgiving in Evanston, Illinois with Eli's family. Really looking forward to getting out of town and enjoying some time with family.

My best to everyone.

Erin

One Month Later....

What a difference a month makes.

On October 15th, I was seven days out from having received my biopsy results, and went to my first appointment with a breast surgeon. It was an absolutely awful appointment. Eli and I showed up, pretty happy-go-lucky about the whole thing, and I left there, more than two hours later, a nervous wreck.

I've alluded to this appointment in past posts, but didn't say much about what happened there, so here's a short synopsis. Most of the appointment was spent with the doctor's nurse practitioner who, while well-meaning, said a few things to me during the course of the appointment that completely freaked me out. Her worst transgression, in my view, was the completely unwarranted comment she made about my lymph nodes. During her exam, she decided to do a breast ultrasound, during which she took a quick look at a few lymph nodes, and then proclaimed "well, those look pretty good and normal, but the doctor may want to do a needle biopsy just to make sure everything is okay." Huh? My lymph nodes had not factored into my worries at that point, and honestly, I just looked at her and said "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't deal with that." The doctor came in a few minutes later, looked at the ultrasound picture, tried to assure me that the nodes looked fine, particularly given that I'd just had a biopsy eight days earlier, and told me that no biopsy was necessary. His efforts to calm me were effective, but rather short-lived; I spent the rest of the day and much of weekend (which our family spent at a cabin on Center Hill Lake, by the way) obsessively worrying about whether the cancer in my breast had already spread to my lymph nodes. An unfortunate turn of events, to say the least.

The following Tuesday, I visited a second surgeon, Dr. Jeanne Ballinger, and decided to have her do the surgery. Tomorrow, one month after the upsetting visit with the first surgeon, I will have my 2-week post-surgical visit with Dr. Ballinger. It's hard to believe how much has transpired in such a short period of time. I am so happy and relieved to be on this side of the surgery, and to have received such good news about the state of my disease. I am guessing that Dr. Ballinger will be pleased with my healing process. I've had almost no pain, and only a little discomfort under my arm where she removed two lymph nodes.

I am on the road to recovery. I know that radiation will be long and tiring, but I'm ready to move forward with that, too, so that I can get all of this behind me.

I'll be in touch soon. Thanks again for reading and following my journey.

Erin