You wonder why...

...we never want to get our hopes up?? Well... we were all set to start chemo on the 18th, planning on 4 cycles of AC followed by 12 of Taxol in addition to a promising clinical trial for Avastin that could potentially prolong my disease-free interval (the period between this cancer and a recurrence... something crucial for me). As it turns out, via a phone call from Dr. Puhalla at about 5:30 this evening, everything has changed. I have a focal (meaning limited to one or two microscopic fields) positive margin (there was tumor found in a small area that touched my pectoralis muscle. After surgery you want to find negative margins, which means that they removed every speck of visible cancer). Supposedly this is "fine" (but there was cancer touching my chest wall... not sure who this is fine for... doesn't really sound like it is fine for ME...), but it precludes me from participation in the clinical trial. Since I do understand research protocol, I get why it is this way, but it is still difficult to give up on something that may have helped to prolong my life. Additionally, because I won't now be participating in this protocol they want to change my chemo protocol to a TAC (adriamycin, cytoxin and taxotere instead of taxol)schedule. This does take treatment time from 24 weeks to 18 but it is more drug in less cycles so you can just imagine what that may mean for my general health. Now I will go every three weeks for the entire time (which is nicer in terms of mileage and parking fees...). Dr. Puhalla is also trying to get me into another study that involves bisphosphanates which are proven to reduce bone loss (a not so good side effect of chemo for many reasons) but have also shown some promise in reducing recurrence. We feel like we spent a lot of time considering everything that went into the last chemo schedule and the clinical trial and all of the above was decided in about 20 minutes on the phone while I was juggling Neely and making dinner. It's overwhelming... but maybe I've mentioned that before... Regardless of the way we feel or anything else really, we start at 8am on the 18th. (and, in case you're counting weeks, finish up 3 days before Christmas...) I know everyone wants to remind me to take it one day at a time, but they didn't hack out my personality with everything else that they've hacked out of me, so I can't help but take notice of the fact that one of my favorite times of the year will be saturated with cancer-induced ugliness. I am still really trying hard to pray big for minimum side effects and a continuously positive attitude, but that day is not today.

Shawna and I juggled our schedules to attend the American Cancer Society's "Look Good Feel Better" seminar at Passavant today and the woman scheduled to run it never showed up (are you seeing a theme with this day??). Not sure when the next convenient time and place will be but I will probably try to give that another shot... I just don't even feel like checking their website today.

We also did some wig shopping earlier this week which was a lot harder than I had imagined, but I am so thankful that some of the girls were able to be there with me to lighten the mood and share the tears. I didn't make any decisions on that just yet... I'm still in sticker shock and am having trouble imagining myself wearing it out in public. It just seems like such an exorbitant amount to pay for something that truly is short term. I'm still debating about whether or not I can just deal with the hair loss...

Every one of these steps along the way take me farther away from the person that I was just three months ago and I'm so afraid that I won't ever be anything like her (in the good ways) again... I know that there are some positive changes - like awareness of the moment, feeling so loved and cared for, appreciating God's goodness in a new way - but there are too many negatives to count and sometimes they swallow me up. Sometimes I'm just more edgy and quick to snap about things. Less aware of the moment or down on myself because I'm not enjoying it as I should be. Unhappy in my skin but feeling like I should be appreciating every last moment that I'm allowed to have in what's left of it. I guess that this is just one of the bad days. Maybe it will get easier when the next 8 or 10 months are behind us. I just hate dragging everyone that I love through a constant cancer maze and sometimes wish that I had never told anyone (although the baldness would've been REALLY difficult to explain...). Today is just a bad day...

I remember when I stumbled in the wind

You heard my cry to You

and raised me up again

my strength is almost gone

how can I carry on

if I can't find You

and as the thunder rolls

I barely hear You whisper through the rain

"I'm with you"

and as Your mercy falls

I raise my hands and praise

the God who gives and takes away