tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3686013328324092416.post5885707130764985699..comments2023-04-26T11:10:23.286-04:00Comments on Breast Cancer is my BITCH: "If I just breathe..."Pixie Bad-asshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00895324835305081553noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3686013328324092416.post-65589529645717188672011-08-25T11:09:45.311-04:002011-08-25T11:09:45.311-04:00Hi there, thanks for dropping by my blog. I am sor...Hi there, thanks for dropping by my blog. I am sorry to hear about your diagnosis. Its not an easy journey but you will get thru it. Believe in yourself that you will. I read somewhere that a positive state of mind will help you thru the chemo process. So thru'out the process, i kept telling myself that it is only temporary, that things can only get better, cos' it couldn't get any worse. So chin up! <br />A little about my journey. I was diagnosed with stage 2 in 2003. Went thru the mastectomy, chemo and radiotheraphy. 4 years later in 2007, it came back in the bones. Many many spots in my bones. Its been 8 years since my diagnosis. I am getting by well<br /><br />take care...and live wellGloriahttp://littlegemsinc.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3686013328324092416.post-69462945456313064452011-08-21T09:47:11.451-04:002011-08-21T09:47:11.451-04:00(Saw this on BCO and thought you might like it)
I...(Saw this on BCO and thought you might like it)<br /><br />I was diagnosed with Stage One, ER/PR-, HER2+, Stage One T1B BC on April 10, 2009 (Well, we didn't know it was T1B until a third pathology report much later, but that's a different story). My largest tumor was about 7mm. <br /><br />I realize that my diagnosis wasn't particularly alarming, in retrospect. But boy, do I remember the fear, terror, panic, nausea, crying that many of you are probably going through this weekend.<br /><br />If I could go back in time to talk to my terrified, sobbing self, here's what I'd say:<br /><br />It's all okay. It all turned out fine. Really. <br />The terror and panic are completely normal. You have just had a life changing diagnosis and it really is terrifying. <br />However, you are not going to die. Believe me, it won't be long before you'll be cursing at bad drivers again. <br />You're about to make a lot of really hard decisions. Trust your judgment and don't let anyone second guess you. <br />You can really fill pushup bra with those gummy bear implants.<br />You're going to gain 30 pounds, mostly during your post-treatment phase, when you eat gobs of carbohydrates to soothe yourself as you deal with the "What-the-hell-just-happened-to-me?" bewilderment of being at the end of treatment. As you recover your sense of balance and peace, regain energy, and get back into the swing of life, the weight will fall off. Don't rush it (see "You'll be exhausted," below.) <br />You are about to discover that you rock bald like few other women can. One word: sunscreen.<br />You're going to lose friends. You're going to make better friends. You're going to discover that your male colleagues are among the most supportive, wonderful, understanding human beings you'll ever find in an office.<br />You will find that all those little things that drove you nuts about your life partner are just that - little. This human being is a rock and will save your sanity more than once. <br />One morning, you'll wake up to find your delicious morning coffee tastes like sewage. That part sucks, but the coffee joy does return after chemo is over.<br />You will be exhausted. <br />Let me repeat that: you will be exhausted. In many ways, it's worse after all the treatment is over. Your oncologist will chide you for rushing things, observing that your body and soul have just been in overdrive to fight a life-threatening diagnosis, so no wonder you're tired. So let yourself be tired. Cut back on work. Don't take on so much. It's only a year.<br />Mysteriously, a month after you finish your last Herceptin treatment, and 15 months after diagnosis, you will wake up thinking about work. Not cancer. It will take you several hours to realize how significant this is. <br />Two years later, you'll run a half marathon in D-cup jogbra with your sister and feel great. <br />The vast majority of women with breast cancer diagnoses are just like this. You're about to become one of them - someone who's been through it, recovered, and has reached a "new normal." <br />I know you're sick to your stomach, terrified, alarmed, panicked; you feel alone, you have a sense that you're facing a death sentence, you're horrified. This is normal. It's part of gearing up to fight. You can do this, and there's a better life on the other side. <br /><br />Breathe... and go kick some ass.Marie from BCOnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3686013328324092416.post-4292102982036253202011-08-19T09:11:15.783-04:002011-08-19T09:11:15.783-04:00Hugs....Hugs....marie from BCOnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3686013328324092416.post-54558496989213630092011-08-18T22:17:09.384-04:002011-08-18T22:17:09.384-04:00Your strength is amazing. (Cat)Your strength is amazing. (Cat)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com