I had an appointment with my GP yesterday and I’ve been thinking about it since then. I’ve always been ambivalent when it comes to him. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, he was the one that was all anxious and freaked out about it. He did get x-rays of my hip before we knew what was going on and tried to get me booked for a CT but didn’t press it when it was turned down. I’ve never considered him to be on the ball but I keep going to him because he knows my history.
I was there to get a prescription refilled and he asked how I was doing. And he asked me a ton of questions. Was my treatment palliative? Did I know they had a great palliative team and that as for pain meds, there’s no limit as long as I’m cognizant. Have I considered the “quality vs quantity” and did I know which I wanted? Did I think that after I die, that that’s it or did I think there was more? What was I going to do with what was left of the rest of my life?
After sharing a personal story of his, his next words to me were in part, “if you want to write a book, write a book, write something for your family. Spend time with your family because it’s the only way they’ll know you’re ok with this. Record the song you’ve always wanted to sing. Take chances. Take risks. There isn’t any reason not to now. While you still can.”
I walked out of there impressed and determined to create a bucket list and fill it with I want to’s and not be concerned with how silly or selfish they are.
While I still can.

I spent the weekend pretending I don’t have MBC. It worked. Mostly. Except when I got tired or moved the wrong way or did my laundry or when I sat for too long or laid down for too long 🙂
I tried to remember what it was like, what I was like before I got diagnosed with this. And I can’t.
One of the things I remember the most was being really pissed off that I never got a real break away from my oncologist. I’m not sure why that’s important to me other than the fact that I feel like I’ve had cancer for forever and having a break from him would have meant a break from cancer.

So I’m still stable. Tumor markers are still at the 60 range. He’s happy that they haven’t started climbing yet. My white blood count is still low. He’s going to hold off doing anther CT until the fall unless my numbers change or I feel like the cancer is creeping again. Another month of Ibrance and Letrozole, here we go!
I know that I get stressed a day or two before I see him. I thought it was flashbacks being in the same room that I had chemo but today I realized that my monthly appointment with him will always be “D Day” for me. I know that at one of these appointments I’m going to hear that these meds aren’t working the way they are supposed to anymore. I struggle with the “fight or flight” instinct and most appointments I have to force myself to go. Although I know this is terminal, there’s always going to be a piece of me that doesn’t want to believe it.

So I got a message from the office of my GP a couple of weeks ago reminding me that it’s time for my yearly checkup. Really? Why? What can he find wrong with me that trumps terminal cancer? A bad heart? Diabetes? No wait! Maybe more cancer? Ha!
I called there today because I do need to see him for a refill for my Crestor. I told his receptionist that I won’t be getting the physical, that it’s kinda pointless.

It’s one thing to be told that there’s no cure for what I have and the plan is to try and prolong my life. It’s another to read “Terminal cancer. Treatment for palliative intent.” Kinda puts a different spin on the whole thing. I’v been plodding along for the last 7 months knowing that this thing is going to kill me eventually. Hearing it in my mind hundreds of times a day. For some reason reading it in black and white shocked me. And really scared me. I plod along every day now wondering if I just had my last birthday. Will this be my last Christmas? What is going to be my last milestone?
This is most definitely a very personal “ailment”. I’ve been lucky enough to meet people (on Facebook of all places) that are in the same situation as I am and it really helps to be able to talk to someone who just gets it. Everything from the morbid thoughts to the heavily laced sarcasm. And I don’t feel guilty talking to them about it or ranting about it.

I’ve learned so many different acronyms and short-hand terms around metastatic breast cancer since this all started. It’s almost like you have to have it to know what these mean. These are the ones I remember:
METS-metastatic cancer
MBC-metastatic breast cancer
NED-no evidence of disease
onc-oncologist
dx-diagnosed or diagnosis
I never thought I’d have to learn a whole new language if I ended up with terminal cancer. I never thought I’d end up with terminal cancer.

Yesterday was my monthly blood draw. 3 vials. And I was stressing all the night before and the morning of. After the fiasco with the CT I had to force myself to go.
Today was my oncology appointment. Nothing new really. My tumor markers “are still around 60” which can be taken as they are creeping up or they are just normally fluctuating but he didn’t say either way and I didn’t ask. My white blood count is still low but that’s expected on this medication. I’m still stabilized.
I may be stabilized but I am in no way stable. Some days I’m so tired I don’t want to get out of bed. Others I just want to cry all day. I wonder if I’ll ever level off emotionally or if this is all part of the new me.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. My 2 bottom front teeth are loose 😦 So I have choices. I can have them all pulled which is what I thought I would need or I might need a root canal but he isn’t sure yet. Both of these options would mean going to a specialist. One that specializes in cancer patients because of the risk of infection. I can have a brace put on the back of my teeth, but it wouldn’t be stable. For now, he ground down the top of the tooth that might need the root canal so it doesn’t bang against my upper denture and we wait and see if the nerve calms down so I don’t need a root canal. And the choice? Option 4. Wait and see if they get worse or if they are good enough to last a while. he liked this choice too. It’s much safer for me.
What I would have once considered to be “normal” every day things are turning out to be complicated now.

What does that even mean?
This cancer will go away if I think it away?
I won’t die in pain if I think I won’t?
I’ll live a normal, healthy, long life if I think I will?
I can’t think this whole situation away by thinking positive thoughts.
What about thinking real?
Real is I’m in a holding pattern for now. I think I’ll think only of today and what I know is happening.
Real is there is no cure for metastatic cancer, only an opportunity to possibly extend one’s life through drugs and chemicals and radiation that have, in all cases, annoying, and in some cases, deadly side effects. I think I’ll think about what I need to do to take care of myself so these side effects won’t affect my life today.
Real is I’ll have to plan for palliative care instead of planning for my retirement. It may well be a toss up as to which gets me first, the cancer or the side effects cause by the life-extending medications.
Real is thinking of how I am now, in a holding pattern. Real is today the side effects are minimal and I can make it through the day with possibly only feeling fatigued. Real is managing the minor pain I get from sitting too long or standing too long or walking too far. Real is no fractured bones. Real is not feeling incredibly disappointed because thinking positive didn’t take the cancer away.
I think I’ll think real thoughts.

Saw the oncologist today for the results of my CT scan. He says the tumors have “stabilized” He was concerned about one of the 3 in my lungs but it’s stable too. Wait! What? 3 in my lungs? I don’t remember that. I do remember one. The other places I have cancer haven’t changed either.
I asked about the tumor markers. He says they’re relative to the person and the treatment for that person and he doesn’t diagnose solely on those. In my case they point to me being stable.
Me: “So now we wait for the markers to increase?”
Him: “Yes.”
He says my results aren’t what he was hoping for but they aren’t bad either.
On a good note-I don’t have to go in for a blood test next week. After the fiasco with the CT scan I’m relieved. Apparently Ibrance now says that if there’s no change in 3 months of being on the drugs, a person can get checked every 2 months instead of every month. That would be me!
I’m not sure what’s worse, waiting for my markers to go up or them not changing at all and still waiting for them to go up. Either way it’s just a waiting game. I guess I just get to wait longer than a lot of people do.
The cancer isn’t going away.