So, more surgery. It's technically called an excision, since the previous biopsy didn't find cancer cells. But, as my surgeon says, the biopsy needle might have pulled normal tissue right next to cancer cells, so it's better to get all of it out.
Once they remove the lesion in my right breast, they're apparently going to test the crap out of every bit of it to make sure there's no cancer there. The lesion is atypical hyperplasia, which is considered pre-cancerous. If they find some cancer cells, I'll have radiation therapy on my right side in addition to my left side.
Frankly, I think the odds are pretty good that they'll find some cancer cells there. It's been that kind of a year.
Tiger has been in and out of the vet's office with some serious urinary tract blockage problems. The vet has put him under to unblock and catheterize him twice, and neither time worked. Right now, he's at the vet clinic, catheterized and in a cone, getting fluid by IV in hopes we can "flush" whatever keeps blocking him out. The vet isn't real hopeful. I spent most of Sunday night crying. Losing Mango is still so fresh, and now it just makes me so sad to come home to a house where there are no cats to greet. Vinnie, bless his goofy heart, greets us at the door every time - in fact, if we take too long getting out of the car, he'll bark like he's telling us to hurry up. But not too long ago, the cats, our sweet fuzzy brothers, would be right behind him, waiting to greet us, too.
I really hope that Tiger will be OK.
As I write this, I'm sitting under a blanket on the sofa, with Vinnie (covered up, of course) beside me. He's a doofus, and has been a good, huggy boy.
Which brings me to my big "exercise" plan.
I've spent a lot of time on the sofa over the summer. The first four rounds of chemotherapy made me dizzy and sick and tired, and the final four rounds made my fingers and toes feel numb/frozen/hot/tingly, and made my sense of balance even more precarious. (It's never been great.)
So I am OUT OF SHAPE. Taking the dog for a walk with Jeff has left me winded and exhausted.
My oncologist said that the steroids I took to lessen the side effects of chemotherapy are not like the steroids that athletes take - in fact, they break down muscle tissue and make you weaker.
So, now that chemotherapy (and steroid use, and side effects) is over, it's time to work myself back up to some sort of fitness.
We've had a pretty good concert year, but it has definitely been "lesser" than it was before cancer. Part of what I love about concerts is dancing and enjoying music you love with a bunch of people, and I really haven't been up to doing that. I've enjoyed the concerts we've gone to, but I've stood (or sat) still.
I want to be back out there, dancing and jumping up and down like I have when we've seen the Foo Fighters, or Matt and Kim, or Twentyone Pilots. There's something that just feels transcendent, when you're tired and old, but the song that's playing is so good you've got no choice but to jump up and down with the rest of the crowd. I want that again.
So I'm starting slow. Vinnie and I are taking 30-minute walks every day after I get home from work.
Not too long ago, on the same walk with Vinnie and Jeff, I literally was huffing and puffing, out of breath from walking a slight incline toward the end of our walk.
Today was the third day in a row Vinnie and I walked, and I was still tired at the end of the walk, but not winded. I'm getting stronger.
For now, that's going to have to be enough.
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