A few more details re my visit to The Tango Man

Was so relieved that I was ok on my four-monthly checkup that I posted on my phone from the reception of the oncology centre and never really wrote anything else about my visit, beyond the fact that now allowed to up my cardio (exercise) by 5 minutes provided I do it gradually.
(Whew! That was a long sentence...)
Anyway,when you know you ok - at least for that day and can go off and do your thing for the next four months till the next visit - nothing else matters. So I forgot to discuss the oral thrush I had - and why - which had prompted me to go for a diabetes test on a doctor's recommendation. Forgot to discuss my nails which are still splitting a little. But did mention how the fingers on my right hand (the one not at risk of lymphedema) are slightly swollen and one ring broke and had to remove the other. The Lymph Lady had said it might be from tamoxifen which can cause water retention but The Tango Man said he really didn't know and was so unconcerned, so was I. If he is not worried about something, why should I be but it is maybe worth noting that now those fingers are slightly sore when I bend them.
Anyway, the visit started with the usual blood pressure and weight test. Weight was the same as four months ago although for me I was up a kilo (then went down again and now up again - I hover within a kilo at the moment). Blood pressure was the usual excellent - 110 or 120 over 70 I think. Nurse said it was the same as last time, or more or less the same.
Then I spent some time trying to catch the eye of the other, more senior nurse: was she meeting my eye or was she avoiding me, because I know they have a meeting every morning and each patient for the day is discussed. What did she know that I didn't?
Then he saw me early, as usual, and to me he looked a little older. Guess we both are. Then he said well you know your tests are fine - and I interrupted in my usual rude manner to say - no, I don't - and he said the doctors would have told me and I was confused and he was referring to the colonoscopy and I guess he would have gone on to discuss the diabetes test but I interrupted again and said I didn't know about the blood tests. They're fine, he said. And suddenly life was fine again. (The blood tests include liver and breast cancer marker). In fact, I asked him, when he handed me the form for the next set of blood tests before my next visit, why it was one particular cancer marker and not another, and he said that it tested for breast cancer antibodies.
Anyway, then came the examination and he was pretty thorough, checking everywhere in the relevant area. Then I asked about exercise and he asked if I had enough energy to do more - I think he was joking - and he said as long as I felt fine. But not to increase intensity. Just the duration.
And I walked out feeling like a million dollars!!!
Looking at my blog the other day, I realised it is not clear from the heading that I am now fine. In fact, worked out after this visit, that it is now more than 2 years that I don't have cancer in my body. Cos it went away completely after four chemo treatments and that was in about April 2009 so now it is more than two years of, to use the American term, NED (No Evidence of Disease). May it continue.

went to the oncology centre today

Had to have blood tests, prior to my appointment with The Tango Man on Friday. Quite a big deal to go to the oncology centre again. It's been months.
Feeling kinda sick re Friday's appointment. One of the scariest things about breast cancer is that how you feel is no indication. When I got diagnosed about two and a half years ago, I hadn't felt better in years.
I know there are cancers where the lousy way you feel drives you to the doctor but it wasn't like that with me.
So I can only pray that I am fine.                                                                                                         

what you call it

I know I tend to talk about "when I was diagnosed" rather than "when I got cancer" but I was still surprised when a friend wrote me a message on facebook talking of her "malignancy". She had said she was having a lump removed and her lymph nodes biopsied. Post-operative, she spoke of the lymph nodes being "clean" and said this meant "the malignancy was contained and easy to treat. Happiness all round."
Malignancy, I thought. So she did have cancer.
I was telling The Yoga Man about how she was just so cool about it and wasn't it just amazing;  he was less impressed. "Hmmmph!" he muttered. "You also say you breezed through your treatment. Breezed through? Hmmmph!"
It's true. I do say I breezed through it because that is how it feels now in retrospective. I had four chemo treatments and yes, I lost my hair, and yes, I did feel k*k, especially after the first one, and yes, I did get progressively worse in my immune-compromised week post-treatment but four is hardly a lot, in fact it's the minumum you can have for breast cancer,  and then when I had radiation I was ok, always waiting to get tired like they told me I would, and only getting exhausted between the second last and last session. And yes, I know have the threat of lymphedema and that is a big issue and yes, I did feel sick from the herceptin treatments but I survived it and it feels ok now. I am grateful to be finished the treatments and just hope it all worked and keeps the cancer away forever.
And yes, I do get hot flushes from the tamoxifen and yes, I did gain weight from the tamoxifen but am losing it again, and yes, my nails are shitty and so weak and thin it is scary, but yes, it does feel that I breezed through it.

then and now - just an inkling

Was trying to download a pic I had taken of some flowers growing from a cactus in a pot, so was going through the pictures on my computer when I came across this one titled 'stubble".
Taken on February 27 last year - I started chemo for breast cancer on February 5, world cancer day - it shows how my hair was falling out. It never fell out completely; there was always stubble at the top and back, with only the sides completely bald.
I couldn't stop staring at this pic. Think my hair went a little thinner than this, but not much. Today my hair is a mass of curls, chemo curls, they call it.
When I showed this pic to The Yoga Man, he showed me a pic of my face at the time. Mmm.. much thinner. About 7kg less than I weigh now. At present my weight is 2.4kg up from when I was diagnosed on January 15 last year, and 1kg up from last week, but still 3kg down from what it was two months ago.
So essentially during chemo, during the time I went off salads and protein barring tofu and boiled eggs, and during which I had bouts of throat thrush and could consume only liquids and mashed bananas and soft-boiled eggs, I lost only 5kg. Actually, think it was only 4kg.
Mmm.. meanwhile, luckily now my arm is ok. On Monday the measurements were the same as the previous Monday. And I have decided to see The Lymph Lady weekly - instead of the bi-weekly I used to do at one stage - until such time as my arm is stable and I feel ok about it. As in calm and unhassled. I cannot live with the stress I went through about a week ago with my arm. Not good for me.
I am, however, flying - but only a short 2-hour flight - next week. That might throw it out. Plus I need to lose that extra almost 1kg I have gained, else that too could throw it out. But generally much happier when my arm is ok, when it's behaving, as it were.

sometimes it's the calm afterwards that can be so stressful

Have had some breathing space. No more dramas like finding that hard bit (can't think of how else to describe it) at the bottom of my left breast, and when I saw The Lymph Lady on Monday she said my arm was now so good that after the next visit (in two week's time cos she is going away so had to cancel my appointment on Monday), can look at coming less and less. Wow! Delighted, not least cos of the expense. Although the medical aid pays most of it back, having about R400 to pay once a week (R392.60 to be exact) is quite a huge outlay. Look, the lymph treatment has cost thousands but it's been worth it.
Ok, ok, today my arm did not feel brilliant, but one of the reasons it's been great is that I have been eating less and less and so losing weight and so my arm has got better. Then last night I had about a glass of wine and ate masses of food - all veggies as in steamed asparagus with diet mayo, salad but with avo, and roast butternut, garlic and marrows - and gained weight. Hungry now actually...

Anyway, I find I now have time to think back and remember. To think about the time I had treatment, the time I couldn't go out (to public places) cos my immune system was vulnerable from the chemo (one week after treatment, for a week), to think about what's happened. And I almost feel I want to go back to therapy. Well, have thought that a lot. Don't think I am unstable or unbalanced, just that it feels kinda ....overwhelming? But don't have money for therapy, even though my medical aid will buy for about six months worth, or the bulk of it for six months, I don't have the spare cash to pay for it before I get the money back, ie, to pay upfront. Look, if it was dire, I would make a plan. It's not. Just thinking back a bit. And so glad time has passed and I am well. And glad that time has passed and so it is all something that happened in the past.
And I am so glad I am writing this blog and keeping a record of it all, a record of what I feel and think and.. caught a radio programme this evening about breast cancer and I realised how much I know, partly because I had cancer and also because of this blog and the others I have read and those I read regularly: Julie Goodale's Fitness for Survivors,Robyn Semanko's I am 30 years old and have breast cancer and the remarkable Daria's Living with Cancer/.

maybe it's best to get a second opinion

Just read this interesting article from the New York Times about wrong diagnosis of ductal carcinoma in situ, the earliest form of breast cancer. What I found most haunting - besides women being told they had cancer when they didn't, and the need for a second opinion - is that the abnormal cells in ductal carcinoma, which is diagnosed in more than 50 000 women a year in the US alone, are "removed before they develop into invasive cancer. There are estimates that if left untreated, it will turn into invasive cancer 30 percent of the time, though it could take decades in some cases."
So one wonders about that too. About the need for surgery in such cases.

Dressing up in pink just doesn't do it for me

Tomorrow is the annual breast cancer fundraiser breakfast. Well the one I go to. Not that I want to but I kinda feel embarrassed that I don't want to go, considering I had breast cancer last year. Went very reluctantly with my sister last year, and although she said I didn't have to go if I didn't want, hell, her friends would ask where I was - all knowing my history - and it just seems strange even to me that I am so anti it.
Firstly, have no idea what they raising money for. I have been told I am angry but regular mammograms don't stop you from having cancer; they just detect it. I found my lump below my armpit just under two months after having a mammogram and scan. Yes I know this is my usual story but the cancer had already spread to the lymph (two cancerous nodes). My oncologist said I would have had the cancer in my body for six to nine months..... can you just imagine if I had not felt that lump in the shower and acted on it, but had innocently pitched for my annual mammogram a year later? I shudder to think.
Anyway so not sure what they are raising money for. Mammograms for all? I dunno.
Then one has to wear something pink. What difference does that make? Ja it is the breast cancer colour but don't think that my wearing it tomorrow is going to make any difference.
Then on top of it the speaker is a doctor I saw twice before I started treatment and have huge problems with. Mother Earth, she thinks she is. Meanwhile, she has too many patients, rushes through her consultations (she did with my second one) and really, should not be pronouncing on cancer if she is not an oncologist, but a surgeon.
Oh well, had a similar rave last year.
In contrast, went to a party at 44 Stanley tonight, a fundraiser. The facebook page did not say what it was a fundraiser for which annoyed me (a friend alerted me to the event this afternoon). My friend did not know either. So when I arrived, I asked. One of the tenants here has cancer and this is to raise money for his treatment.
I didn't know who it was until someone told my friend with me tonight that has a brain tumour and more, so does his children (not sure if all or some or one), that nothing is working and the fundraiser was to raise money for pain killers so that he can die with fignity. He is stopping all treatment. I was glad I was at the fundraiser which was pretty enjoyable and mellow with live music plus had dinner at a very nice restaurant, Salvation Cafe, there.
Oh well sure the breakfast won't be too bad. And considering it is now 1am, guess I should get to bed.

a year since i found the lump

I forgot about it but christmas eve was a year since i found the lump below my armpit which turned out to be cancerous.
I think the hardest part to deal with has been the fact that it is not over. Although the chemo took away the cancer, things have not stopped there. I thought it was just a matter of "grit your teeth and bare it, then things will be over" but it hasn't been like that at all. Oh I got through the chemo mostly allright, then had radiation but then got swelling from the radiation and now on herceptin and tamoxifen - all preventative stuff - and all with side-effects so kinda ... well, people keep telling me how well i look but it means nothing. I looked and felt fine when I was diagnosed.... so how do i know I am ok now?

very grateful

Went for my three-weekly herceptin treatment today. My hand bled when they inserted the needle, or whatever it is called - the needle goes into it.
Anyway, there was a girl there who started chatting to me. It was easy to spot her. She was totally bald but looked fabulous really with her well toned body and bright pink top.
She asked me, towards the end of my time there, how often I came for chemo. I explained I was not having chemo - alhough The Lymph Lady says herceptin is a chemo as it is a chemical therapy - but a preventative treatment and that I had had breast cancer.
Then I asked her what she was there for. Melanoma, she said. And this was her first chemo she said. I was a little puzzled cos of her bald head but said nothing. She said she had had radiation. Did they begin with radiation, I asked. No surgery, then a month in hospital having eight hours of this certain treatment - something beginning with an 'e' for eight hours a day - then radiation but then found 18 tumours on her neck (not sure exactly when that was found, think before the radiation) and also on her head, so now she is having this chemo. Three days in a row, then three weeks off.
And I left the oncology centre feeling so so grateful and realising how lucky I have been. I feel I want to say thank you in some way. But how and to who/what? Maybe a charitable donation would be best.

wonder how one stops worrying

People keep saying I look well - I suppose I look better than when I was on chemo but how do I know I am ok? When I got diagnosed, I felt better in all senses - physically and mentally - than I had for years yet I had breast cancer.
Now I don't feel as perfect as I felt then, thanks to side-effects from the medication I am on. The herceptin and tamoxifen combine to make me a little tired, well, pretty tired, especially stamina-wise, the herceptin makes me feel spacey at times and the tamoxifen gives me horrible hot flushes.
Would hate to have the cancer return. That's why I am taking herceptin and tamoxifen but they are not 100% foolproof.
My friend Tania's mom died of cancer on Friday but guess her circumstances were very different.
Would love to know how others feel on herceptin. I was told there were no side-effects until I started having them, The Lymph Lady told me about how most of her patients feel on it, and the oncology centre finally acknowledged that what I was feeling was legit and expected (except for the mouth ulcers which they claim is not from herceptin).

the scare

Found a lump last Tuesday, the day after I came back from Lesotho. Had been in a lot of pain on my left side, the side where I had had cancer and had been radiated. So much so that I had phoned and left a message for the radiation oncologist who sent one back saying I must ask the nurses about it next time I have herceptin and show them where my arm is pink (that is what the lymph lady said it was). Anyway, the pain varied from under my arm in my armpit to outside the arm.
In retrospect I think it was because I moved from dabbing my arm with creams to rubbing it. It was too early, methinks, cos since I have resorted to dabbing again, and rubbing only my arms, the pain has gone.
Be that as it may, the trouble was when the pain spread to the other side. Well, suddenly I was in agony on the other side, the non-cancer side, and so much so that I ended up taking my bra off in the evenings as it felt it was digging into me. This went on for about four days. I looked but could not see anything which suggested damaged skin or anything. So when I came back from Lesotho on the Monday, the next morning I was thinking: where is/was it sore? And, feeling around, I felt a lump to the upper right side of my breast.
I decided to do nothing until I saw The Lymph Lady the next day as she knows more about bodies than I do. She felt it, said: "there is something there" and suggested I phone the oncologist straight away. Phoned, spoke to the head nurse and asked if I should go for a scan.
No, said the nurse, let me speak to the oncologist.
When she returned my call, he could see me only in two days time. When I walked in two days later - after tears, sleepless nights and sheer devastation at the thought of surgery (was told would need surgery if the cancer came back) plus the intense chemo and radiation I would have so that I could barely walk, and what would happen if I then had swelling on both side? - the nurse saw me and said: "Oh, I forgot to tell him you were coming now."
Mmmmm..
He saw me about 5 minutes later, between patients, in the room where you get weighed and blood pressure taken before chemo. "I think it's a cyst," he said. And told me to go for an ultrasound scan whenever, not immediately.
I went yesterday. Oh, they tried to cancel it cos doctor had an emergency but I was so persistant and assertive (could barely believe it myself) that when they told him it was me needing a scan, he phoned me and told me to come immediately. I left the office in one second and raced down the road as if I had my hazards on (even thought of putting them on but then just drove with the attitude that they were on, except that I stopped at robots.)
Anyway, nothing there. Twice or maybe three time he asked me feel, to show him where it was. Think it was much smaller but nothing showed up on the ultrasound. Think it's gone. Think I am going to be fine. Now just want to live a life unblemished by all this cancer stuff, cancer talk, cancer anxieties. Now I know I am going to be ok, am healing and all will be well.

the cost!!!

It has been confirmed. Herceptin , well, my herceptin treatment, is going to cost half a million rand.
It appears as if my medical aid will pay 80% of it but it still means I will pay R4000 and sometimes R8000 a month. I have to have 17 treatments every three weeks.
Also have to go on hormone treatment which has side-effects eg weight gain. Did not ask about herceptin side effects other than the heart. Need to ask about that.
Wish it could all be over.
Plus will be seeing The Lymph Lady for goodness knows how long.
The Tango Man just said "wow, wow, wow" repeatedly when I told him my arm was swelling. "Why do you keep saying 'wow'?" I asked.
He said it was because it seldom happens so soon. Usually years later.
Oh well. The full monthly cost of herceptin is more than I earn per month.
I asked The Tango Man what people do if they don't have the money. He said he does not know. That is not his concern and I guess it's not. He asked me if I had been in touch with my medical aid about it. I said no. Damn him. I explained I was waiting for today to find out more. How and why do they expect you to just know everything by osmosis? I had heard from the counsellor at the centre it was R20 000 a treatment but didn't really believe it.
The radiation oncologist said my swelling will hopefully go down in a few months. Said in the scheme of things, it was nothing.
Think this post is all over the show... guess it's how I am. Anyway, at work and need to buckle down and do something - as in WORK!

in the waiting room

Chatted to others in the radiation waiting room today. First time. Think it was a comment about the traffic which started it. This lovely bouncy older lady said it was if no-one was on the roads, she had got here so quickly; I responded how I had been stuck in a jam cos of a robot (traffic light) not working and then we started chatting.
She had also had breast cancer - i kept staring at her yellow/blonde hair but it looked like her own, or was it a wig? - but had had eight chemo sessions as opposed to my four. And her last four were not the AC chemo I had had but something more radical - as a result, she had lost one thumb nail (she showed me where it was growing back), two of her toenails, had temporarily lost some of her hearing - gathered when she mentioned how even her daughter sounded differently on the phone that that had upset her a lot - and still had little to no sensation on her fingertips and her toes - all walking felt it was on sand, she said.
Fakking hell. I had almost had one split nail but it never did break into half and apart from slighly sore arms and one purplish-veined hand, have no permanent effects of the chemo.
And I had no surgery. Felt really guilty when I said that. I must be one of the view people who had breast cancer who did not need surgery.
I am lucky.
Which is not to say am not miserable. But that is not to do with my health but the damn workplace. Am sooooo tired but only when I am there. Funny that.

Made it back to gym

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer (January 15 2009) and then after three weeks of tests and many doctors and as many opinions, I finally choose The Tango Man to be my medical oncologist, I was banned from gym. That was it. The chemo I was going to start with could affect my heart, then the radiation would compound it, followed by herceptin which is also a risk for the heart.
Now last week or so the radiation oncologist said I must go back to gym. But cannot get too out of breath so that I cannot talk and must not get so sweaty that my gym clothes chafe against my skin (the radiated upper left chest, throat and back area).
Well today was the day. Had decided that the only way to gym under such stringent conditions - well, the safest way really - was to do so under the skillful eye of a biokineticist.
Now that's all well and fine but when it came to the crunch was rather in a panic - what do I do about my still mostly hairless head? Eventually I opted for my black cotton cap(in case my hat fell off) plus a blue soft hat (my late mom's).
And I survived, even if I looked like a frummer (a religious Jew with my head covered) and even if the 30 minute appointment was the longest half hour ever. "Think I can get a 15 minute appointment?" I laughed. Had two bios with me, the main oke plus Lauren, who will be taking me, and it was almost a joke. I found everything so difficult, despite during fairly regular exercise at home (did 25 minutes this morning, for example). But then at home have focused on low-energy (had to really) plus recuperative yoga.
Felt good afterwards but decided there and then not to try to make yoga tonight. After yesterday's depressive state, had decided that had to force myself to go to yoga, even if I did not have the stamina to complete the class. But no ways can I do gym as well as yoga in one day.
Had no idea exactly how much all this treatment has taken it out of me. What I experienced at gym today was far, far more than just unfitness. It is like my body is unused to moving, to being exerted. I became tired and out of breath so easily. But I will survive and I did enjoy it.

a revelation

Was chatting to my friend Carlos (ok, on my cellphone in the Hyde Park carpark, returning from Zubeida Jaffer's booklaunch read her website)and read her entry in South Africa's WhosWho and extract from Zubeida Jaffer's new book Love in the Time of Treason when I said, in my usual irritating, self deprecating way "Oh, I'm such a misery" when I stopped - suddenly - and said: "Hey, I'm not. I'm not a misery, at all!"
I always thought I was, you know. But now, now that I have/have had cancer/having treatment for cancer (it went away with the chemo but now on preventative radiation for breast cancer), I realise I am not one bit of a misery. Oh, not quite as 'wow' in my attitude as some people have made out, and yes, I do get bogged down at times when yet another niggly side-effect rears its head, or too many side-effects congregate at one time, but I do not feel as if I walk around with the world's problems on my shoulders. I don't feel miserable. As much as I dislike waking up early to drive in Joburg's bumper to bumper traffic to get to radiation - and which also means trying to get to bed earlier, an even more difficult discipline - when I turn on Classic FM Classic FM's website and hear some great music or listen to a wonderful story on a CD from the Listeners' Library, I find myself smiling with sheer pleasure. Don't think I am in danger of being a depressive.

don't understand myself

My sister phoned and asked if I wanted to go to a talk on breast cancer one Sunday morning in June from 9.30am to 12. It's a fundraiser and someone she knows/knows of who has had breast cancer will talk. I said "yes" but the truth is I don't want to go. Will go because I feel I should, rather than want to. In truth, the thought of getting up early on a Sunday to do that... maybe if the talk was along the lines of the book I am reading www.amazon.com/Love-Medicine-Miracles-Self-Healing-Exceptional/dp/0060919833, about how to boost your own immune system and so heal yourself, but just about breast cancer.... dunno. I kinda feel removed from breast cancer. Yes I know I have it but I don't have anything which is obviously in the boob and as I have kept saying to people who said: "Are you going to have a lumpectomy (everyone's favourite word relating to breast cancer as it alleviates the need for a dreaded masectomy)?" - "NO! You cannot have a lumpectomy if you don't have a lump." The truth is not all lumps in the breast are suitable for lumpectomy anyway.

Oh well. Of course I will go to the talk but kinda wonder why I felt so averse to it. Feel better about it now that I have written about it.

great news - eternally grateful

Just a quick note as still sitting in the office trying to make up for the three and a half hours I was out today, visiting doctors. It was quite traumatic but boy oh boy, am I grateful.
First The Tango Man said I had to decide: radiation or surgery. And surgery would be masectomy of the left breast and removal of the lymph nodes under the armpit. Radiation has its risks, he explained, especially the compounding of the affect on the heart of the chemo, radiation and then the herceptin I still have to have.
Not one is better than the other, he explained, else he would recommend it but said whatever decision I made would be the right one.
"How can I decide?" I asked, pretty tearful. "Is there anything I can read to help me make my decision?". The answer was no, only reading on basic principles but nothing that was tailor-made re what was best for me.
I enviaged a weekend of everyone phoning me every two minutes to give their two-cents worth while I scanned the Internet relentlessly.
Phoned my dad who is a doctor who said: "Radiation! Surgery can bring secondary infections.....". Phoned The Emphathetic One who said: "I agree with your dad! Do radiation; you heal slowly (cos of thyroid problems)".
I rushed off to the surgeon. And guess what he said? "Don't operate. Go for radiation."
"I want to hug you!" I shrieked, "but without any clothes on, I can't!" - for I was lying on his examination table, topless.
And guess what else he had to say? That 5-10% of people have what is termed "a complete response" to chemo like I did. Most the tumour shrinks, or it does not respond well and then they need more. But I had four chemo sessions for breast cancer and now the cancer is gone. It's enough to make one turn religious overnight.
But I have agreed on one thing: should the cancer return, I will willingly undergo masectomy.
Seeing the radiation oncologist on Monday. Have seen her already (have seen everyone - gosh it was my third visit to that surgeon and on the first he had preached masectomy. But due to my treatment and tests and response now said no).
Am so so so happy that want to go out for dinner to celebrate - again!!!

crucial week ahead

This is the week when I am going to know what treatment is next on the list.
On Tuesday have to go for blood tests. They include liver function, although not quite sure why (someone who has been through breast cancer said cos the chemo can affect the liver, or something along that line). Then have to have a scan of the left breast and the left lymph node area.

Then need to wait for the blood test results which are not all immediate so two days later, see The Tango Man oncologist and The Composer surgeon.

If need chemo, then The Tango Man said have to have it the next day ie Friday although he said was sure the scans would be ok (I did not probe what that meant). But he was saying was that he did not think I needed more chemo.

And although The Tango Man said if my MRI scan was negative (for a tumour in the breast), which it was, I might not need surgery he is sending me to a surgeon, the one I have already seen twice and who had previously said "operate!" so would he really change his mind now?

Oy ya yoy.......

On a lighter note there were quite a number of Mexicans at this lunch party today. Did not realise that there was a Mexican community in South Africa although one of them said it was not big. Oh my goodness, with swine flu Mexicans have now become the new Nigerians... although the truth is they probably have not been there for a while but when u are immune compromised due to chemo, your ears prick up when someone talks about their Italian brother-in-law who travels a lot and who is in hospital while they work out what's causing his high temperature.. and you start thinking, how close has this lady been to her brother-in-law and how close have I been sitting to her? Lol... you can drive yourself crazy.

no primary tumour

Funny that. Posted messages on quite a few international sites/forums and not finding anyone else who has breast cancer but no primary tumour. Might blitz the local support groups tomorrow. The Tango Man said 18% of people fall into that bracket but not sure if he meant breast cancer or all cancers.....
So if you reading this and have breast cancer but no primary tumour, please contact me so I can find out about your treatment. Thanks.

A tally after third chemo treatment for breast cancer

Today is exactly one week after my third chemo treatment for breast cancer. I still don't know how many more chemo treatments I still have to go through but as far as I know it is either one or three more. Neither do I know which treatment follows this chemo or whether or not I need an operation, or the nature of the op should it be needed, and quite frankly my doctor The Tango Man has not determined it yet. Think it has a lot to do with the fact that I don't have a primary tumour, in fact, no tumour can be seen in the breasts itself even with MRI testing, but the cancer has spread to two lymph nodes below my left armpit.
Thought it might be useful to do a tally of where I stand right now:
* Not feeling great today but not shit either.
* Have not had to take any anti-nausea medication today
* Have not taken diarrhea medication for about 10 days but went to the toilet three times today so not ideal
* No longer have cramps but carry the medication around just in case
* Have lost almost all my hair but there is fluffy regrowth on top which I have told 'peers' through a silk scarf (which I wear only when with close friends indoors, the rest of the time it is hats)
* Have lost most of my body hair but not all; shaved under my arms about a month ago and have not needed to again, the same with my legs, and the latest is my dwindling eyebrows for which my latest acquisition is a R210 Clarins eyebrow pencil which I think I prefer to the R400 pencil I bought which adds hair
* Have sore hands and arms below the elbow - apparently the veins are burnt by the chemo - and rub retrogel on twice a day and scream dramatically if anyone touches my hands or lower arms
* Have a mouth ulcer which keeps moving its spot and am overdosing on the pretty yucky yellow emulsion which treats it
* Am tired if overexert myself, eg, visit five shops in a row in different areas on a Saturday morning - then need to sleep for hours
* Did not eat properly for about five weeks and lost weight, now have not stopped eating for two weeks and have gained weight - overall, no longer have any idea what I like eating or do actually eat
* Have some muscles else would not be able to sit and/or walk but essentially have no mucle tone - my thighs are jelly, my upper arms a mess, my neck is losing its elasticity, even my back is softer as there is no/little underlying muscle and generally I am on a quick pathway to instant ageing.

Next time someone asks how I am, feel tempted to say: "Considering I am on a programme of systematic poisoning, not doing too badly and bearing up, thank you!"

* My nails have developed ridges and my cuticles are a mess
*