Thursday, August 29, 2013

Cancer Fun Fact #54,798: I'm Shrinking!

Cancer Fun Fact #54,798: I'm shrinking!

This post is really just for fun, so it's going to be short and sweet... just like me.

For those of you who know me personally, you may be confused because the fact of the matter is that I'm not short. (You can stop there however, because we all know the rest of it to be true, I am sweet). Most of my post-puberty life, I have measured at about 5 feet 9 3/4 inches tall, rounded out to a nice solid 5'10". But now, I'm finding that in my post-menopausal life, I am instead measuring in at 5'7"....

<enter perplexed look>

This was a shocking revelation for me to say the least. I was at a Doctor's appointment at Loyola (when I was shopping around for the trial) and the nurse took my height. As she was mumbling the measurement to herself to record, I leaned in and asked her how tall I am. She replied that I'm 5'7" and I (being tall) shot a this-chick-is-nuts look over her head to my mom. I said, "I'm sorry but that cannot be right, I've been nearly 5'10" my whole adult life and I think we should double check."

The nurse agreed, so I stepped back up on the rickety scale and felt her maneuver that metal piece down onto the top of my head. This time, I was very careful to stand up extra straight and I hardly winced when the metal piece crushed the pouf in my carefully styled hair. When she was done, I gingerly stepped down so as not to disturb it's positioning, and I waited... STILL 5'7"!!!

I just said okay and mentally dismissed this poor girl as being confused. Yes, I'm aware that she does this as part of her job, everyday, but I also know that I'm tall and always have been, everyday. SO, one of us had to be crazy and I had already decided it wasn't me.

I proceeded on with that appointment and pretty much forgot about the height thing. It wasn't until another appointment with the ovary-surgeon that it came up again. This time, the nurse just asked me how tall I am. I started to answer, then looked at my mom and paused. I shrugged my shoulders and told her that I didn't really know and perhaps we should re-measure me. I repeated the same procedure, but this time had to wait for the results because the number was in centimeters and the nurse needed to convert it. Talk about strange suspense...

After a few minutes, she popped her head back in the room and confirmed that I am, indeed, five feet and seven inches tall.... So, that's it. I even typed it out so that you could be sure to read it correctly.

Huh. Interesting.

As it turns out, the cancer that is in my spine is wreaking havoc on my stature and has knocked me down about 2.5 inches closer to the ground. Being the tall the girl is not something that I ever thought that I would miss and although I don't technically feel physically different, it is still a strange phenomenon for me to wrap my mind around.

So, I guess, now I begin my life as a short person. Well, maybe not short per say, but if I continue with this trend then I might just secure myself a place in the circus as the "Incredible Shrinking Woman!" In the meantime though, bring on the higher heels!!



Disclaimer: If you, or someone that you know, knows the nurse from Loyola then I extend my sincerest, but still understandably baffled, apologies for thinking she was the crazy one.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Is it getting hot in here? Oh no, that's just my early menopause!

 I got chosen for surgery!!!!

 Ok, wait a second... let me back up.

It wasn't very nice to trick you in that way. I was actually chosen for surgery; but, not like you may think, it isn't a part of the trial. Let me explain...

If you are a Facebook friend, as well as an avid blog reader, then you know that last Tuesday was the day that I received my latest PET Scan. I get scans every 3 months to see how I am responding to my current treatment plan. Then, on the following Thursday, its results day. Dun. Dun. Dun.

Unfoooortunately, this time... the results were not so good.

As it turns out, my cancer is progressing. It has not invaded any other parts of my body; however, it is showing more activity in the currently affected areas than before. They can tell because the radioactive material that they inject into me, for the scan, is glowing a little bit brighter than it was last time. The increased activity is caused by the fact that my medicine, Tamoxifen, is no longer doing it's job of blocking my body's hormones from feeding the cancer. Uh what?! Someone at the big ole Tamoxifen factory is going to be getting a very heated letter from me later, demanding a refund!

While I sign, seal, and deliver my disgust for a "faulty" drug, the real next step is surgery. So, see...I wasn't completely lying... I did get chosen for surgery, only this surgery is to remove my ovaries. In doing so, my body will no longer be able to produce the progesterone, estrogen, or babies. This also means that I go into early menopause. Eeeks! I'm not sure that I'm ready for my body to jump ahead 25 years...I know I'm not exactly a spring chicken anymore but that seems like it could be a bit of an extreme change. I've experienced hot flashes with my current medication and let me tell you, multiplying those by like ten (a day) to where I'm suddenly watching my makeup drip down my face in a sweaty puddle, while standing in an air conditioned room, does not appeal to me. But this is how we will beat cancer because my body cannot have those hormones anymore, so it must be done. Please remind me to put a pocket fan on my next shopping list...

Additionally, in the wake of this slightly unnerving news, I also found out that my current status makes me ineligible to sign up for the surgical trial. I'm not gonna lie, that was a blow...or lack there of... that took the wind out of my sails. In fact, it caused my sails to complete deflate and tangle around me with emotion. I had previously decided that I was going to enroll in the trial and now it is not an option for me anymore. But I can't forget that my intention with the trial was to let "whatever is meant to be, be..." so I think I got my answer.

In reality, not much is going to change. Sure, I'm a little worse for the wear but really when it comes down to it, we are just trying a new technique. It is an event of trial and error to see what combination will best fit me and stabilize my cancer. It may be a shade of bad news, but it is not a darkness. We are moving on, as positive as ever.