I can’t take birth control pills anymore because of the estrogen. Apparently, estrogen can make tumors grow faster. Awesome. So no more bc pills…like ever. It feels weird, because I’ve been on the pill almost constantly since 1997. My options are the Paraguard IUD, Essure, or condoms. I don’t want more kids, so maybe I’ll do Essure? I guess that’s another question to add to the already super long list of questions I’m bringing with me tomorrow.
Also, my joints hurt. No more Enbrel for me either. At least not for a while. The good news is that chemo should put my arthritis into remission. Silver lining.
I talked to a colleague today who has had lymphoma for about 10 years. He was amazing, and I feel so much better after talking with him. It’s nice to have someone right upstairs that I can talk with and who actually understands what I’m going through. I was able to say certain things, and I didn’t have to worry about hearing him say stuff like, “Oh don’t say that. You will be fine,” or “You have to stay hopeful,” or “I’m praying for you." Not that any of those things are bad. I appreciate the support I’m receiving more than words can adequately describe. However, sometimes I need to just say what I’m actually thinking without worrying about someone else freaking out about it.
It’s not negative to think about and plan for the worst case scenario. I’m a planner. I need to know that everything will be okay if I’m not here anymore. It doesn’t mean I want to go. I plan on fighting this, and I think I will survive it, but until you are told you have a life threatening illness, you cannot understand this. You can’t understand what it feels like to look at your child and wonder if you will see him start school, graduate, get married, or even if you will see him next Halloween. Those thoughts…that’s the hardest thing about this. Nothing else matters. Cut off my boobs. That’s fine. They weren’t that great anyway, and the new pair will be spectacular. Take the hair. It will grow back, and will also look better in the end. But I cannot fucking deal with the idea of dying and not seeing my child grow up. The thought creeps in, and it feels like somebody punched me in the chest. I feel like I cannot breathe, and tears start flowing. No matter where I am or what I’m doing. It’s the scariest thought I’ve ever had.
I actually didn’t mean for this to turn into some huge emotional vomit. I’ve been mostly okay today. I see the surgeon tomorrow, and I’ve heard some really great things about her. I’m anxious to hear her thoughts, though I’m fairly certain I know what she’s going to say. Also, it turns out I have a connection to one of the best breast cancer surgeons in the country. So I will likely get a second opinion.
Something good happened today. The law firm switched from our crappy server to Dropbox. Dropbox is fucking awesome. If you don’t have it, you should. We should have done this a long time ago. Working at home just became a gazillion times easier. Welcome to the 21st century, Brinkman & Alter.
It was my idea. I’m clearly a genius. <3