It’s almost go time to start the fight against this cancer. I can’t believe that we technically haven’t started attacking this little beast yet. We’re almost there, almost at the starting line. This Tuesday, June 7 at 7:45 a.m. I will start the process of what will be my first chemotherapy treatment. I don’t know exactly what it will be like. I know it will not be the most fun I have ever had.
My port hurts. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s healing very nicely, but it is very uncomfortable. I feel it in my neck. I feel it in my chest. I’m ready to have it removed. I break out in a sweat every time I realize exactly what I’m feeling and where. Haven has developed a perfect sense of finding it and whacking it when she doesn’t get her way, in a typical almost-two-year-old fashion. She really has no idea what she’s doing, but man, she has perfect aim.
I don’t want the nurses to use the port. I’ve asked to have a numbing cream like my one-year-old nephew uses for his treatments. Apparently adults don’t get that, because well, they adult. My exact words to a medical professional recently were, “I need to be treated like a one-year-old from here on out.” This is who I am now. 2016 is going to be a long year.
Also, we found out that my cancer has spread. Already. We found in a CT scan I had on May 24 that it has already moved to my armpit. It started on the side of my left breast. This little beast is just 10 or 11 weeks old by now and it’s already spreading. Not good. It just means we have no more time to waste on hospital visits or blood transfusions or anything else that Satan wants to try to throw in my path.
It’s business time.