The baby was nomming all over my chest this evening trying to find a nipple. I was like, “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for here, sweet baby.”
Today my oncologist told me that I have graduated to only needing to see him once per year, as I’m a five year survivor now. That is both completely awesome and absolutely terrifying. My NP reassured me, however, by letting me know that if I have a freak out to just call and they’ll get me in sooner. She says it’s pretty common.
He also asked if I would please continue to take the Tamoxifen for ten years, instead of the five he initially prescribed, as that is the new recommended course of treatment. He was very sheepish about it. I laughed and told him I’ve been waiting for him to man up and mention it (I’ve known about this recommendation for a couple of years now). He got a good laugh out of that. He likes to ease me into shit like this. He knows I hate Tamoxifen. But it helps keep me alive, and so I shall continue to swallow that little white pill every single night, like a good girl.
Because life is fucking beautiful, my friends.
5 years. 💜
I know I haven’t mentioned it much (and not at all on the blog), but I haven’t forgotten that it’s breast cancer awareness month. I’m quite pleased that most of the fundraising efforts I’ve seen this year are donating to the BCRF instead of Komen, and that I haven’t seen a single “sexy” awareness ad.
Which reminds me: November 1st will be my 5 year cancerversary. Holy fuck balls. That reminds me that I need to figure out when my next oncology check up is scheduled. It feels like it has been a long time. I’m still taking my Tamoxifen like a good girl.
That I’m going to have a breast cancer recurrence. Mets to any of the usual places. Ugh. I try to keep it out of my head, because that shit fucks me up.
you have to explain to someone that you don’t have nipples.