Everyday I thank God – because it could always be worse.

Let’s talk side effects.  A quick rundown.  Headache, nausea, neuropathy,  cramps, constipation, diarrhea, back spasms, mouth sores and numbness, nosebleeds, constant nasal drip – then the skin peels under my nose and lips.  As that’s not enough then my hands burn as if I had 3rd degree burns, they peel and are beet red. Eyes tear, blurred vision – not from the vodka.  A salty taste in my mouth that never fades and did I mention I’m emotional? 😭 Last but certainly not least is hair loss.  Ouch!   And just as I am feeling better, it’s time to go again.

Thanks Carboplatin, Taxitiera, Herceptin, Projeta and last but not least Nuelasta.  You have replaced my vodka.   Every 3 weeks for 18 weeks.  7 hours of iv’s.  😒  Then I get 1 iv every 3 weeks for the rest of a year!  Yeah!   See, it could always be worse.

I prefer Stoli any day of the week.  Neet please!  🍸

Positive. +

It’s been 6 months since my biopsy and my head is still spinning.  Since I felt the lump and already had an appointment for my annual mammogram two weeks prior to that, the words “you have Breast Cancer” somehow did not shock me.

I promised not to let this get the best of me so I started lining up my doctors, met with specialists, told my husband, my daughters and their families, my sisters and my mom.  My support team.  My family.

I had a plan.  I wanted to have my double mastectomy, and be on the road to recovery before I told anyone else.  No offense but I did not want to hear anyone’s opinion on what doctors to see, hospital to use etc.  especially horror stories about someone I did not know.

Positive I say.  Stay positive. Someone else’s mishaps would only bring me down. Look 👀 forward – stay focused.  In my late fathers words, “be strong, you can do this” is all I focused on.

Then the shit hit the fan.

Wait, WHAT?

Yeah you heard me, I have Breast Cancer.  December 16th, the day of my mastectomy,  that  would be the start of me being CANCER FREE.  Well, maybe.  If I did chemotherapy to ensure this awful disease would never return.  Against my better judgement and something I vowed I would never do, it seemed to be the right choice.  At 57, with a lifetime ahead of me and 4 beautiful granddaughters I caved!