Skin Biopsy

First things first…

If you want to help…

You can join this Facebook group. I won’t be in it, but I’ve been assured it’s not there for you to talk shit. 😉

This way, I can filter info through a central line and worry about getting better.

Skin Biopsy Results

Skin biopsy results came back positive. I was expecting this; that’d be my luck.

So, how I process these things are:

1. Take the news calmly.
2. Say “ok” a lot.
3. Finish with “thank you so much.”
4. Text people who I remember to text. ?
5. 5 minutes later…I think, AM I GOING TO DIE?
6. Write a message to docs re: life expectancy changes.
7. Doc tells me I have options.
8. OKAY! I got this.

In this instance, there’s not a lot that changes for treatment. Because the cancer is in the skin, that upgrades my stage to 3B. This doesn’t mean it’s metastatic – that’s when it hits other parts of your body.

The oncologist still suggests the same chemo treatment, but if I were to consider reconstruction, it may not work as well if skin needs to be removed. It’s also possible that chemo and/or radiation may be a bit more…not sure what that means. But, if all that’s true, then I’m still in a good place.

I did ask the oncologist about life expectancy – whether this changes anything. She said that what matters is how the cancer responds to treatment. OK, I’ll take that.

This doesn’t change the plan of no reconstruction – it puts me there, but I was already thinking that. So this doesn’t seem like a huge setback.

If I sit down to think about it – which I don’t recommend if you can help it – what I worry about is that every hour counts, and the longer I wait for chemo, it’ll metastasize. It’s only a week away, I know. But this was NOT there in January. The tumor hadn’t physically impacted my breast in June. I refuse to contemplate what I could have done. Wishing that I caught it sooner isn’t going to help me move forward. Yet I feel like I’m on the clock in some way.

There will always be a part of me who thinks the worst – that I won’t be there to watch my kids into adults. It’s sad, it is. But when I think of it, it’s less about my death than it is about them hurting. That would be hard.

I try not to let these moments go on because I’m still here. And I’m still me. I want to laugh out loud and watch trashy reality shows with friends from all over. I still want to learn and grow. Be a driving force in my career. Teach my kids how to ride a motorcycle and use a stick-shift. Watch them become the persons they’re meant to be.

I can’t control death, but I can control how I live. If this bitch is taking me down, I won’t go quietly. And it’s not going to ruin my joy.

So I’m somewhere between hopeful and superstitious. ?