Drop Dead Fred

I don't know if you remember, but Fred is the name of my tumor. Last weekend, several of my friends walked or ran in a 5K to raise money for cancer research (it wasn't the Race for the Cure). They had shirts made, with the pink breast cancer ribbon on the front, and "Drop Dead Fred" on the back. I like the phrase. I think Fred is dead, but it is still fun to tell him to drop dead.

I went back to the treatment place today. I've started back up--not for chemo, but to finish the years-worth of Herceptin. [warning: medical explanation to come] Herceptin is an antibody. If a person's tumor has the receptor for Her2/Neu, then receiving the antibody Herceptin helps to keep any remaining (if any) tumor cells from growing. The antibody locks on to the receptor, keeping the normal molecule from binding to that receptor. And that keeps the tumor cell from being happy. My tumor was Her2/Neu positive (as well as estrogen and progesterone positive). It's a double edged sword (actually, I'm not sure if that's the correct descriptor, but I'm going to use it)--if the tumor is Her2/Neu positive, it means it's more aggressive. On the other hand, if it has the receptor, it means there is a treatment for it (Herceptin). So YAY, I guess. In any case, research shows that receiving the antibody gives another 50% chance of being cancer-free in 10 years. For example, if the chance of being cancer free is 90% without Herceptin, it's a 95% chance WITH the Herceptin. So why not? The only down side(s)...I have to get the Benadryl before they administer the antibody (to prevent an allergic reaction) and I have to keep the port in until treatment is done (they use the port to administer the antibody).

Whew. So I was back in the treatment center. Saw several old friends, who have progressed in their own treatment. One took a break from chemo (between regimens) to have her implants surgically placed. Another just had the "normal" break and is now getting Herceptin (she and I are now on the same schedule). It's funny--I'm the one furthest from chemo, so I have the most hair regrowth. There were lots of questions about how long it took me to get it to this length. But oh, I've had a couple of hair trimmings since the last chemo (2, I believe). And the eyebrows/eyelashes...well, it took about 6 weeks post-chemo for those to start back. And the arm/hand hair just started coming back last week (about 7 weeks out). And everyone is different. I think I lost less hair in total because I kept it short. But who knows. I guess if I can give the rest of those still in their treatment something to look forward to, that's got to count for something. I remember being there--HA, it was only 3 months ago that I would look towards someone who was getting their hair back.

I missed those people, and the staff at the office. It was really good to see them. I was strangely happy to be back to that place, but perhaps it's because I wasn't there to get poisoned. I was there to continue the process to ensure that Fred has dropped dead. Drop dead Fred.

The Little Engine That Could

I feel a bit like that little engine. I think I can. I feel like I'm getting to a place where my body is ready to move on and try out its new existence. I think I can. I stepped onto an Ultimate field again this past weekend. (when Beth reads this, she's going to kill me) It wasn't for long, and it was under what I consider safe conditions. My incision is healed, but the muscles aren't yet 100%. My team can attest to the fact that I did my arm exercises a bunch. And the swim in the gulf salt water was awesome. I think I can. They warned me not to layout. It didn't consciously cross my mind to do so, but admittedly my head does things sometimes that I cannot control. No, I didn't layout. I threw a coupe of throws, I made a couple of cuts. I did what I could. I think I can. I jogged a little each day. I did not go for a run, but I moved my legs and I stretched my limits a little. It's time--it's time to see what I can do. I think I can.