Chemo? No, thank you.

Most of you who read my blog already know that my cancer is estrogen  receptor  positive and progesterone receptor positive.  The cancer cells, like normal breast cells, receive signals from these hormones that promote growth.  That is why I am able to take the drug Tamoxifen, which blocks the production of estrogen, to lower my chances of recurrence. So even though I am able to take this drug to lower my risks of a recurrence, my oncologist had not ruled the possibility of chemotherapy as another precaution.  At one of my visits with her she ordered a test called an onchotype.  The onchotype test is used to determine the likelihood of recurrence.  The lower one's score the less likely it is that the person will have a recurrence.  I was in a position now that I knew radiation therapy was going to occur. My radiation specialist (who by the way looks like he could be one of Joey's friends- he's that young) was holding off on the start of radiation until we knew for sure about chemo.
Chemotherapy has always been the treatment I assumed every cancer patient underwent.  I was fearful of the thought of the treatment.  Hair loss, nausea and vomiting, nerve pain and extreme fatigue are all common side effects of the treatment. What a horrible list of likely happenings.  Also, my appointments at Comprehensive Cancer introduced me to many who were undergoing or had undergone the treatment.  These wonderful, brave, strong friends I was making were SICK.  I think that is what scared me the most about chemo. I have a secret to let you in on.  breast cancer doesn't make you feel sick.  Since the first surgery I have felt pretty much like myslef.  A little tired, a little emotional, but not really sick.  The only thing that made me sick was the dumb pain medicine and once I figured that out I just quit the stuff.  My cancer buddies at Comprehensive Cancer Center were sick and I was afraid I would be joining their ranks.
When I was a kid I used to get a sore throat every winter.  It was always my tonsils and until I had them removed in 7th grade I missed a week or so of school every year because of my illnesses.  I hated it.  I hated staying home and begged my mom to let me go to school .  I didn't like missing things then and I don't like missing things now. I hate being laid up.  On my days home I would get out of bed with everyone else in the house and put my clothes on.  That's a big one for me.  Getting dressed.  Being in pajamas all day was not, and still is not, an option.  When I get up I get up and get dressed. Even if it means putting on yesterday's clothes for an hour or two before I shower.  Do you remember when that  little girl Jon Benet Ramsey went missing.  Part of the case they were making against her mother focused on the fact she had on the same outfit two days in a row.  People thought this indicated she had been up all night and was somehow involved in her daughter's death.  I remember thinking, "What?  That's crazy.  She just threw her clothes back on because she didn't want to be in her pajamas while all the chaos was unfolding."   I just don't like hanging out in my pajamas.  In fact, funny story, the worst punishment my parents would give me when I was a kid was to get ready for bed early.  I can't remember what I did but I remember a time that I was being flippant to my mother while a little neighbor girl was over playing.  My mom sent the girl home and made me put on my pajamas right then in the middle of the afternoon.  I thought I would die. Anyhow during bouts with tonsillitis,  TV and books could keep me happy for an hour or two but inevitably I had to get up and do something.  As a kid I would work on projects in my room and even convince my mother to let me bake cookies.  Even if I had a fever my mom would always have my brothers bring home all of my school assignments. She knew I would be devastated if I fell behind in my work.
 Every so often, however,  like all school aged children, I would catch  a dreaded stomach bug.  These sick days were different.  There was nothing I could do to will away the nausea that would flood my body.  I remember distinctly lying on the couch with a big bowl next to me, a headache causing me to desire nothing but sleep, but being unable to drift off.  TV, books were of no use. No thought of baking or schoolwork entered my mind.  I would just lie there and be sick.   As I got to know my cancer pals and talked with them about their treatment it became clear to me that chemo was akin in some ways to that dreaded stomach bug.  Relief was seldom and throughout most of the weeks you just had to put up with being sick.  I guess I am not unique in thinking, "Chemo, no thank you."
So on the day I went for the results of my onchotype test I was relieved to hear I would not need chemotherapy.  My wonderful oncologist talked with me about her 16 year practice.  She said just ten years ago chemotherapy would have been likely in my case.  Today with all the research and work that is being done to develop targeted therapies for cancer patients she has seen a 60% drop in the use of chemotherapy in her own practice.  That's pretty amazing if you ask me.
So on to radiation I go.  Grateful that I will be spared what many are not.  Grateful I will be able to get up each day and get dressed. And eternally grateful to Dr Thummala, my oncologist who is committed to stomping out cancer, one cell at a time.