The Little Dog's Day: Snoopy Dancing In My Kitchen

Just a little health update for those who have wondered how things are going with me.

I went to Duke twice last month and found I loved the team of radiologists, oncologists and the surgeon who would be working with me. Dr. Horton is the main radiologist, Dr. Gretchen Kimmick is the main oncologist and Dr. Gregory Georgiade is my surgeon.

I had a real curve ball thrown at me while I was there. The radiologist started by giving me the good news that Herceptin (one of my chemo drugs) can work so effectively in some people with HER2 protein that their tumors seemingly melt away. (I heard a strong "YAY" in my head when she said that.) But then I met with the oncologist and everything was changed. She felt I might have metastatic or inflammatory breast cancer, which, I'll be honest, were the two that I was so happy I didn't have when I did my brief research on invasive ductal carcinoma. It's my way of seeing the glass half-full, but it came back to bite me. Thinking, "Well, I'm very fortunate that at least I don't have that . . . ." turned into "OmiGod, I might have that!"

She also thought she felt enlarged lymph nodes on both sides under my arms, which would mean metastatic breast cancer. The thought of inflammatory breast cancer was brought up because one of the tumors in my breast had actually punched up through the skin of my breast, below my collar bone.

I shamed myself by crying a little bit, then got myself in shape while they did a punch biopsy (to rule in or out the inflammatory breast cancer diagnosis), then cried again when I was getting dressed to go down and meet with Dr. Georgiade.

He was great, but explained to me that the tumors I had were so large, that no matter what, the order of my treatment would be much different than I had been led to expect in Charleston, where my doctor wanted to immediately do surgery.

1. I would first have six to eight rounds of chemo to shrink the two tumors (Taxotere, Carboplatin and Herceptin), followed each by a Neulasta shot to keep my white blood cells up;

2. I would have two months of radiation, twice a day;

3. I would then have a mastectomy and lymph node dissection of the right lymph nodes, even if I did not have any sign of cancer in them. Standard protocol dictates that they are taken from either side of the armpits if large tumors are found in the breast nearest them;

4. I would have reconstructive surgery sometime later;

5. I would be well and happy and go back to everything as normal. Okay, no, he didn't really say that, but that is what I heard in the taped loop that runs in my head. I always think to myself that I've just stopped on the playground to tie my shoe and that I'm going to be back, caught up and playing with everyone real soon.

However, some days are roller coasters, even for someone like me with what I'd call a pretty good attitude. For about three hours that day, I was feeling really scared. Then, I just said, forget this, if I have to deal with something worse than I thought I had, well, that is just what will happen. I am as equipped mentally and physically to get through that as I was the earlier diagnosis, so I am trusting God for all of this, just as I was before. He loves me, He is not punishing me, He will hold my hand through whatever comes. Nothing has changed but the words coming out of my doctor's mouth.

Okay, yes, I know the biology would be different with the other two cancers, but this again is what I heard in the taped loop that runs through my head.

So, Pat and I stayed an extra two days in Durham, awaiting Friday when I would undergo further testing.

We went to have brunch, went to a funny matinee movie, had an early dinner, strolled through the urban sprawl of shops surrounding Durham, but this was in 103 degree heat, so not as much fun as you might think.

Pat and I looked at furniture and couches at Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware and found one at the latter place that I simply adored. Pat said to put it on my wish list, but gave me the distinct impression that not even a 20th anniversary present could make that couch look like a good deal. He hates retail pricing. But the couch we own now was purchased at a steep price, but has served us well for over TWENTY YEARS. You could say we don't buy on impulse or splurge much in furnishing our home. My sense of style derives more from thrift shops, estate sales or hand-me-downs, with a few really good pieces thrown in here and there to show I do have a little sense.

I think I could make a house look great if given an unlimited budget, but I'm not in that position, so I make do with my own eclectic imagining of a home. It suits us. But we do need to find a place for our all Scottie collectibles. No matter how artfully I arrange them, the sheer volume is starting to be creepy, not fun. But that's a thought for another day.

Much refreshed from our day of relaxation, I went back to Duke on Friday for PET scans, MRIs and blood work.
I found that I liked the staff in those clinics as well as I had my team of primary doctors. Everyone so far has been so organized, professional and encouraging at Duke. I like that combination!

I had a small reaction to the dye they used in the MRI. It was the first time anything like that had happened, so when I popped out of the machine and everyone in the room rushed up to me and exclaimed over the huge, witchy welt that formed on my chin, I was surprised. They asked me if I had that welt when I had gone in the MRI, I was like, no, not unless I am Jessica Parker and I don't know it. But really, it was way bigger than Jessica Parker's wart. It was a big welt of a thing, and oh, was it itchy. (And witchy.)

So the next time I have a PET scan, I have to have it in the main part of the hospital where I am near the surgical suite just in case I have a reaction where I can't breathe or something even more serious. But I'm not gonna worry about that, either. They seem to be doing enough of that for me.

When I was done with the tests, Pat and I were free to go home. I tried to clear my head of everything and not let myself dwell on all the possible scenarios, i.e., inflammatory or metastatic breast cancer because honestly, I just didn't want to think too much about it until I absolutely had to.

And that turned out to be a smart thing to do. About a week later, Dr. Kimmick called to give me the great news that my cancer was not either of the two forms she had been worried about. She still could not completely confirm it was ductal carcinoma as my pathology slides from CAMC had still not arrived (after a month and two weeks of requesting them), but that she felt confident in the treatment plan they were going to give me. The only new information not already provided by Dr. Georgiade was that I would be receiving Taxotere, Carboplatin and Herceptin as my chemo cocktail every 21 days. It would take about four and a half-hours to receive that during my first visit, and would be a little less time in the subsequent sessions. I would have my Neulasta shot the following day. So we'd have two nights in Durham. After six to eight sessions, I would be following up with Herceptin for the next year or more, once every 21 days.

I wrote down that Dr. Kimmick said that I had right lymph node involvement, but the radiologist I'd met with here at home (the one terrific doc I've had here in WV), Dr. Prem Raja, called to make sure that I understood all the results of the tests and assured me that I did not have any lymph node involvement, but as I had been told, right lymph node dissection would be recommended due to the size of my tumors and the probability of microscopic (read: undetected) metastasis to them.

Well, this was just the best news I'd heard in a while. Dr. Kimmick's call had come while I was in the kitchen fixing dinner, Mom and Pat milling around talking and helping here and there. I took the call and left pots on the stove, hoping Mom would take care of things.

When I came back into the kitchen, I tried to look serious, but I couldn't help it . . .

I broke out into the Snoopy Happy Dance.

Then Pat and I started dancing together:

Then Mom started dancing and singing, "Praise ye, the Lord, and we sang "Hallelujah!" just like the old hymn, ending with a big "Praise ye, the Lord!" Mom clapped her hands and Pat said, "Well, I think I'm about to tear up," and we all hugged and said how blessed we were. And we had a big, beautiful dinner of celebration and gave thanks for that, too.