Monday's trip, depression, and a pinktober article

I was just too tired to post the results of my day at UAB yesterday. That trip wears me out - not just the 8 hours in the car, but the tests and, frankly, just walking into the clinic. We hit the breezeway that leads from the parking garage to the clinic and I felt the anxiety start creeping in. I felt the shakes, the tears, the "nonononoIwanttogohomepleasedon'tmakemegointhere" voice start. It's an act of sheer stubborn will (and clinging to Andy's hand) that allows me to keep putting one foot in front of the other in that place.

I had my MRI, and let me tell you, IT HURT. Remember my recent trip to the ER and diagnosis of costochondritis? Apparently even though my sternum doesn't hurt constantly and it doesn't seem to be taking the predicted 6 weeks to resolve, lying on a bed that has holes to drop the boobs into, meaning a hard thing between them is where your weight goes, isn't as fun as one might imagine. When it was time to get up, my sternum, chest and back hurt so badly that Andy had to come in and help me get dressed. I was in tears not only from the pain, but also because I'm sick of this. I'm sick of being screened for cancer (apparently having the most aggressive surgery for cancer that was caught as early as mine exempts you from nothing when it comes to screenings), sick of it hurting, sick of it causing such horrible anxiety.

The good news is that the MRI ruled out any recurrence. I really do "just" have costochondritis, and I'm good for another 6 months. I have two small cysts, one in each breast, that haven't changed (I didn't even know they were there), and are of no concern.

Yesterday I had the MRI on my shoulder; I'll get those results Monday when I see my orthopedist. There is a chance it's related to my mastectomy, as my other shoulder was when it was impinged.

So, if I have no recurrence and my shoulder problem is not cancer, riddle me this: why am I depressed? Why am I still close to tears (though at least the anxiety has dissipated), having weird dreams, and feeling so down I can't be bothered to accomplish much?

I'll tell you why: because as I said above, I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of finding more long-term issues that nobody told me could happen (hello, shoulder, I'm talking to you), I'm sick of the anxiety, I'm sick of the drive to UAB, I'm sick of pinktober, I'm sick of knowing that there are those who really wish I'd just move on and not mention having had cancer. I had it, I live with its aftermath, and while at some point it may move to a different part of my brain, right now it's really close to my mouth and out it comes. It's not my job to keep others comfortable about my cancer.

So, that's where we are right now. Today I'm going to have a treat day: I'm going to Sephora (oh, someone protect my wallet), then to get a manicure, then to Wednesday knit night, which I've missed since August.

I leave you with this article: Why #Pinktober consumerism makes this breast cancer survivor uneasy - I didn't write it, but I could have, right down to the disbelief and, yes, guilt, that comes with not needing radiation or chemo.

Inspiration - but not the fun kind

It's been awhile - almost a year, to be exact, but I'm inspired again. Inspired by the influx of new folks to Knitters With Breast Cancer, my online support group, and realizing that things haven't changed much as they struggle with the exact same decisions and issues that I did when I was newly diagnosed. I'm inspired by the much-dreaded pinktober's early start, with its pink awareness crap in everyone's faces. I'm inspired by tomorrow's visit to UAB for a 6-month oncology check and my first post-cancer MRI. I'm inspired by too many BC sisters who are dealing with recurrence and are now considered stage 4/metastatic, and the knowledge that MBC is desperately underfunded and that's where we need to point our breast cancer awareness. I'm inspired by being diagnosed with lymphedema, which both my oncologist and my plastic surgeon missed (and which is a whole 'nother post). So lots of inspiration, none of which I particularly want.

Last Sunday I had an ER scare. I had sudden, sharp pain in my sternum, along with nausea and dizziness. After a couple hours of tests, I was sent home with a diagnosis of costochondritis. While this is likely the case, two things scare me: the first, this was my friend Brenda's original diagnosis before they discovered that her pain was due to cancer in her sternum, and second, it came on suddenly and resolved within about 48 hours, which isn't the norm (though when I've ever been the norm I have no idea). I'm told the MRI "sees" the chest and sternum, so if there's anything going on I'll know by tomorrow afternoon. In addition, I found a lump in my shoulder, which my orthopedist says is likely something-or-other with my acromioclavicular (AC) joint - basically an injury (except I didn't injure it). I have an MRI for that on Tuesday; he said that while he'd always do an MRI, with my history it's vital. If it sees what he expects, an injection may be all the treatment I need. I'm just so tired of there always being something, and while that's been the case much of my life, post-cancer everything carries a much heavier weight.

Most people consider going to the doctor when something hurts or changes. Sometimes we dismiss it because we're getting older, or it's just a cold, etc. But here’s the thing: for those of us who have/had cancer, it's completely different. We are forever changed - we've lost an innocence we didn't know we had and gained fears that, while time may dull somewhat, will never go away. We all cope a little differently, but we all experience the fear. Logic doesn't help, things like "the odds are..." don't help, and pats and "there there, it'll be fine" doesn't help. My coping strategies for this new normal are things like pajama days, antidepressants, copious amounts of knitting and crochet, tears (I wasn't much of a crier before), fun-colored hair, a comfort blanket that I knit myself, sleeping with my stuffed llama and unicorn (both gifts from my son), and allowing myself to FEEL, even when it’s not “socially acceptable” and others want me to be positive and move on. I do the best I can, and while it may not be “enough” sometimes, it’s what I have. I also subscribe to The Spoon Theory because right now, I have very few emotional spoons and I am gonna be damned selfish about how I use the ones I do have.

I'll have more to say in the coming month - about how to talk to people with invisible illnesses (and post-cancer definitely qualifies), about ways to actually help during pinktober, and links to articles and other bloggers who really "get it." In the meantime, I'm going back to my yarn and hanging with my boys, so I can get through the time til we leave for the long drive to Birmingham in the wee hours of tomorrow morning.