When checking in to see my oncologist, the receptionist asked if I’d been out of the country in the past three weeks. YES! I finally got to answer yes. I was in the Bahamas. On a cruise for my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday. The receptionist said she threw a big party for her dad’s 80th, but they realized she’d been off a year on the date, so she threw another 80th birthday for him the next year. None of the guests seemed to notice.
My oncologist appointment was spent talking about chemo. My oncotype number is 30. Chemo is indicated for numbers 26 and above. I’m doing TC Chemo, which stands for Taxotere and Cytoxan, two different drugs that will be administered one after the other through a port I’ll have installed in my chest (the only thing I remember about the port installation discussion is something about Versed and Fentanyl, so I’m looking forward to it). One infusion every three weeks, four cycles total. Side effects could include: alopecia (hair loss), nausea, vomiting (though I’ll receive meds to mitigate), mouth sores, taste changes, infection, fatigue, bleeding, neuropathy, second breast cancer. Dr. Trottier wrote these down in a list.
I have to do chemo because if I don’t, there’s a 19% chance the cancer could come back. Or maybe it’s 19% even if I do the chemo. There’s a more than 15% benefit to doing the chemo, or something, and the only thing that struck me about these numbers is that even after doing all of the surgery and the poison and the hormones, I still have a not zero chance of the cancer coming back. I want there to be a 0.013% of recurrence. Bob points out that a 19% chance of recurrence is an 81% chance of being cancer free. Yes, but…I wish I could find more comfort in the >15% chemo benefit, or even fully understand what this means. I want a chart that says “Do all this bullshit and then you will not die from this cancer. Money back guarantee.”
I whimpered about all this a bit, and Dr. Trottier said, and I quote, “I’m picking up what you’re putting down.” I hear you, but this is all we’ve got. He said if I make it nine years without recurrence, I’m probably home free.
But who the fuck knows. No one, that’s who.
We got pedicures in Miami before the cruise, and as I was picking out my toenail polish color, I thought, this will be my chemo color. Bob said, “Well, not if your toenails fall out.”
Good point. Like when he pondered, “Since your hair is turning gray, when it all falls out, it will probably be totally gray when it grows back.” Oh! Right! How about fuck you.
When we were negotiating with my family about building the cabin, one big question was what would happen if Bob and I received title to the lot, took a huge building loan, and then were unable to pay the loan. The fear being that it would have to be sold, meaning there would be a stranger living on the property. Possibly throwing non-stop loud parties or God knows what, but definitely affecting the quality of life of everyone else out there, forevermore.
There was one family meeting wherein my family members wanted to know what the cabin contingency plan would be in various scenarios, which they helpfully listed.
What if Bob leaves you and moves back to New York?
What if all of your clients fire you and you have no way to make money?
What if your latent brain aneurysm ruptures and kills you?
I pointed out that somehow (miraculously, it would seem), I had managed to remain financially solvent during my entire adult life. In the event of my death, I would no longer have a stake in or give a shit about what would happen. And that I was hereby calling for a moratorium on discussion of scenarios featuring my abandonment, destitution or demise. We would all have to take a leap of faith based on my track record, and proceed.
I talked them into it. Bob and I got a loan, built the cabin, and then I got cancer! Hahahahahahahaha, oh god. Of course, no one has brought it up. The cabin, that is, in relation to my new situation. I look forward to spending lots of time there in between chemo infusions, and have the best intentions of living long enough to pay it off. The odds of that do seem to be in my favor.