Sunday

The Sundays before my treatment kind of suck. It's worked out where I work the desk at the paper the Saturday before my treatments. That's good on one hand, because I can use my comp day for my treatment instead of a sick day. But on the other hand, I don't get a real weekend. And working all afternoon and all night (about 1 p.m. to midnight) Saturday putting together the front section of the Sunday paper is really more taxing than it probably sounds. Anymore those Sundays are just a waste, because I'm tired -- more mentally than anything -- and don't get around to doing much. A second day off always helped me get things done, whether it was laundry or running errands in town.

I didn't get anything done today other than walking the dog. I need to do laundry and clean up my closet and I should sift through all the crap piled up on my desk one of these days. I've been taking the Wednesday after my treatment off, but I'm still really too tired to do anything then. So I guess for another week, not much will get done.

We had our breast cancer month package in today's paper, and I think it turned out pretty good. It was nice to be able to have some time to work on it, instead of just having Saturday afternoon, which is how it seems most of my Saturdays turn out. I've already gotten a couple compliments on my column, which I put off writing until Friday night. It wasn't that it was that hard to write, it was just the thought of getting to it. I don't necessarily think it's the best thing I've ever written, but I think it got my thoughts across.

Since you have to be a subscriber to read my paper's online content, here's my part of the package today:

Life can change dramatically in an instant.
For me, that instant came on Mother's Day, when, while getting dressed, I felt a lump in my left breast.
I think on some level, I knew instantly. It was cancer. But I’m only 36. Cancer was something old people get.
Or so I thought.
I put off visiting the doctor for several weeks. I did some research on the Internet. There are many other things besides cancer that can cause lumps in the breast of a woman under 40.
Despite that information, I could not keep the thought out of my head — I have cancer.
I learned on July 8 my instinct was right. After a mammogram and sonogram, a biopsy was ordered. I reported that day to Dr. Christine Kelly’s office.
"I think you’re about to become a Kelly girl," she said moments after entering the exam room. It took awhile for the meaning of that to sink in.
Only two things shocked me as much as getting the news I had breast cancer: that I was the fifth woman under the age of 40 Dr. Kelly had diagnosed at that point in the year, and that practically everyone I told about my cancer said that someone close to them had also had breast cancer.
Even though it seemed my life had changed quickly, the next few weeks seemed to move much too slowly. I had cancer, shouldn't we be moving quickly to treat it? But there needed to be tests done to make sure it hadn't spread --— x-ray, CT scan, bone scan, MRI. All came back OK. It was a great relief. But I was eager to start, to get rid of this thing.
That day came Aug. 9. I was scared. I'’ve always been healthy and hardly even gone to a doctor in my adult life. Now all of a sudden I'’d had tests and surgery to implant a type of catheter in my chest and would soon have drugs more caustic than battery acid infused into my body every three weeks.
I am tired for days after treatment and have had trouble with my white blood cell count. Consequently, at work, I have to be separated from my coworkers so I'm not at as much risk for catching a communicable disease, like a cold, that could be devastating to my body. I miss the business of the newsroom, and my coworkers have to make a special effort just to say "hi." It stinks, but right now it is what keeps me at work as much as possible.
I forget things easily. I don'’t know how many times I've walked into the newsroom or into my kitchen and wondered why. I had an overdraft on my checking account for the first time in five years because I forgot to enter a couple purchases in my checkbook record. If if weren't for my mother helping to keep track of my finances, I would not be paying some of my medical bills in a timely fashion. It's very disconcerting when I read through my journal and have no memory of some of the things I describe.
But several things have set my mind at ease. My parents and brother, who have taken all quite well. It seems we've grown closer and been able to talk more openly. My friends and coworkers, who have all offered support and laughs when I need it. My dog, who is always there for me and doesn't care if I don't have any hair. And especially the medical team, from the staffs at Dr. Katrina Hess' and Dr. Kelly's offices and the staff at Hays Medical Center’s Dreiling/Schmidt Cancer Center. They have all be straightforward about what I would be dealing with, yet comforting at the same time. I've also recently found a group of remarkable women, Sisters of Survival, as another means of support. They know what I am going through and are proof cancer can be a new beginning to life, rather than an end.
Tuesday will be my fourth round of chemotherapy. After that, I'm scheduled for a lumpectomy around the first of November, and then three more months of chemo. The treatment has gone well, for which I am thankful. I haven'’t had the nausea and mouth sores and other side effects that can make treatment awful for some, and at my last sonogram the tumor was almost completely gone. I am confident I will beat this thing. It will never far from my mind though, for the rest of my life. Living with and after cancer is a whole new reality. But I won'’t let it get me.