Working during Treatment

Recently I was asked to write about my experience in continuing to work while going through treatment for breast cancer, and my thoughts on ways supervisors may be able to best support employees with short-term or chronic illness.

As I wrote in a previous post, although my direct, administrative manager and co-workers were very supportive throughout my treatment, my direct principal created a harsh work environment for me. This brought undue stress. However, I played my part in allowing it to continue.

Many people have to work through their treatment, and there are laws in place to protect employees from discrimination during short-term or chronic illness. Here are several links that may be helpful when faced with employment issues during a serious illness:

I think the biggest factor is that there is fear on both sides. Fear from the employee over potentially losing their job or losing various aspects of their job, and fear from the employer of diminished job performance from an employee while they are going through treatment (and possibly after treatment).

While it is a personal decision on the part of the employee about how much information, if any, they decide to share with their employer, supervisors and co-workers, I do believe communication is key here. Employees and their direct supervisors should be willing to develop a positive, ongoing rapport about the employee’s work environment, treatment regiment, potential side effects, needed time-off, alternative work accommodations and possible work goals throughout and after treatment.

It may be beneficial for direct supervisors to better inform themselves, in general terms, about the type of illness an employee faces, the types of treatment, side effects and possible complications associated with that illness. Being more informed may help them to better support an employee who is going through treatment.  Keep an open mind and heart.  All businesses have a human element and this is a time to focus on that.

Trust is needed from both sides to bring positive results.  If an employee feels supported, they are more likely to return 110% or more in job performance and productivity during and/or after treatment.  Employees, in turn, need to be forthcoming as to their capabilities and limitations throughout treatment.

I will state, however, that there is a fine line.  I can attest to having divulged too much information at times.  Unfortunately, I don’t believe anything would have helped my particular work situation.   On a number of occasions I spoke with my direct principal to better inform her of my status and efforts to maintain good job performance and a positive work relationship between us only to have her dismiss all of that later.

It can be difficult to continue working through treatment.  Chemotherapy and surgeries, side effects and complications, constant doctor appointments, being poked with needles on a daily basis and all the serious medical decisions can be emotionally, physically and psychologically draining.  It was for me, and working in a harsh environment did not help.  Unfortunately, financially I didn’t have an alternative.  My MedOnc wanted me to take three to five months off for chemo, but this single girl had to pay the bills.  I will say, however, that going to that job every day (aside from treatment and sick days) gave me a sense of purpose and did help me combat some of the side effects of treatment, such as fatigue and depression.

I hope the above information helps someone out there.  Every situation is different and should be handled with care.

Damn my blood pressure!

I have one doctor’s office that operates fairly mindlessly. They are extremely overburdened with patients.  I feel like one of many cattle being herded every time I pay them a visit.  My own doctor there, who I’ve been seeing for five years now (granted I can only get in to see her about once a year, if that), doesn’t even remember who I am.  On my last visit with her she thought I was a new patient.  Seriously, I do understand she has a heavy flow of patients, but damn if I haven’t heard from enough doctors and surgeons how unique my medical history is.  And believe me, being told this by specialists who see unique cases all the time is not in the least bit reassuring.  My case seems to certainly be unique enough to definitely stand out a bit.

Anyway, my only shining light there is my doctor’s nurse practitioner, who I do see more frequently. She always remembers me and what is said in our visits.  She is the one, mindful eye in the whole practice, in my opinion.

Today I had my usual, follow up visit with her. My lack of focus recently with my father’s passing, etc. is clearly present, and lately, more often than not, I’ve overlooked something that I needed to stay mindful of.

You see, women who’ve had double-mastectomies such as me must be careful not to have our blood pressure taken via the arms. This is primarily due to the resection of lymph nodes from our chest area during surgery.  The pressure caused by blood pressure cuffs and other things can cause lymphedema in the arms and/or upper torso area.

Today the nurse mindlessly placed the cuff on my arm and I mindlessly conceded. With every quick squeeze of her hand on the little ball, it grew tighter and tighter.  It felt like my arm was being severed off.  I screamed, “No, you can’t do that, I’ve had double-mastectomies – Get it off, get it off!”  I then quickly pulled the velcroed cuff off my arm and yelled out “dammit!”  I was infuriated with myself, the nurse and their office in general.  At myself for not realizing it until it was already happening to me and with the nurse and practice for continually not noting in my chart this serious thing they needed to be alert about.  Right then I apologized to her, noting my father had just passed and therefore my ability to focus was askew.  I then asked her to boldly note my chart, to specifically add it in the computer while I was standing there, about this very important thing.  Also, as soon as I stepped in the nurse practitioner’s office, I promptly told her this can’t happen again.

Doctor’s offices, particularly nurses need to be more in tune to this. This is something I’m going to look at ways to promote better care of.  Yes, this is something I will work on!  I mean, what if I was taken to the hospital unconscious and no one knew to be careful of this.  My nurse practitioner suggested today that maybe I should think about one of those medical alert bracelets.  I’ll have to investigate this more to be sure that would make the difference.  Stay tuned on this one.


I haven’t written here in weeks, maybe a month.  Truth is I’d lost the desire to continue chronicling my journey.  I’ve found it so difficult not to slip back into old, bad habits–A way of punishing myself and/or still trying to cope, miserably, with life’s hard knocks.  And I’ve definitely noticed the more I slip back into the bad, the more numb I become to it all, only adding to the vicious cycle of self-loathing.

A friend reminded me today that I needed to continue the blog and continue writing my book.  I certainly haven’t been giving myself enough credit recently for everything that I’ve gone through, and instead let incredibly small-minded people who’ve only spent very fleeting moments in my life get the better of me.

I’d like to say living through a very serious, pancreatic operation and 6 month recovery, or surviving breast cancer, double-mastectomies and all that accompanies it (which is a hell of a lot!  You just don’t know) were my biggest obstacles, but they are not.  I have always been my biggest obstacle—my addictive habits (that are killing me slowly), my continual relapse into negative thinking, my lack of will power and self-discipline.  Am I courageous?  I don’t know anymore.  I’ve always been strong.  I’ve always had to be strong, but the courage part of it comes and goes.

Here is where I start again.  Maybe God will allow me time and grace to climb back up the mountain after having fallen so far down, yet again.  I just have to keep on keeping on.

I was listening to Queen’s ‘We are the Champions’ this morning on the way into work.  This will be my new theme song for a while.

“We Are The Champions”

I’ve paid my dues Time after time.
I’ve done my sentence
But committed no crime.
And bad mistakes ‒ I’ve made a few.
I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I’ve come through.

(And I need just go on and on, and on, and on)

We are the champions, my friends,
And we’ll keep on fighting ’til the end.
We are the champions.
We are the champions.
No time for losers
‘Cause we are the champions of the world. …

(Taken from

Numbing while in Hyperdrive

When you decide to rid yourself of all your numbing vices, reality IS a bitch.  Need I elaborate?  The whole point of numbing one’s self is to escape reality, in particular, the pain of it.   Cancer or not, life can be incredibly painful and you have to feel it at some point.  All the numbing agents in the world can’t make it go away.  Well, I guess they can for a while, otherwise we wouldn’t do them, but in the end they only make everything worse.   Then you find moments of clarity when the question arises, “WTF, how did I get here?”  Like whole blocks of time were erased from your life.  But they weren’t.  You just weren’t paying enough attention.  You were numb.

It’s true, you simply have to move through the pain.  At some point you have to stop, FEEL IT and move through it.  It really is the only way.  It’s certainly a process though–Not a 24-hour turn-around type task.

I’ve been seeing a counselor to help me sort through all of this.  She is also a breast cancer survivor.  The social worker at Texas Oncology was able to get me in to see her through the Flatwater Foundation (  My counselor said I’ve had so much going on for so long that I haven’t had time to grieve any of it.  I’ve literally had one major crisis to handle after another, back-to-back, for the past five years.   And these aren’t like, “hey I just broke up with my boyfriend” type crises, I wish.  These are “I have to think about removing organs from my body or I might die” type crises.   Serious life and death situations back-to-back for 5 years.

In August 2009, my stepmother passed away from advanced melanoma.  About seven or eight months before she died, around January/February 2009, I was diagnosed with a very rare, pancreatic cyst.  My father also needed a lot of assistance during this time with my stepmother’s illness and passing.  Then in the fall of 2009, I also assisted my father in his battle with her four daughters over his life estate in the house.  This was all very stressful and I was way too in the middle of things, a place I really didn’t want to be.  However, at that time I felt I had to help my father.

Upon being diagnosed with the pancreatic cyst, I began meeting with specialists and surgeons and was having tons of testing and blood work done.  Two years of trying to characterize the cyst, this entailed a number of endoscopic procedures and biopsies.  Then came the decision to do pancreatic surgery and finding a specialized surgeon for that (I ended up going to Houston).  In the middle of all of this I finally did the BRCA testing, which came back positive for a BRCA1 mutation.

Once you’re deemed a BRCA mutant, you are automatically placed in the cancer pool and they start watching you like a hawk as it’s only a matter of time in the medical community’s mind before you get it.  I started seeing a medical oncologist regularly.  One of the top in Austin.  Then started the serious breast screening, the first being a breast MRI (it would switch between that and a diagnostic mammogram every six months).   With the first breast MRI came a huge scare from my medical oncologist and breast surgeon that they’d found not one spot, but four in my right breast.  At that time, they all turned out to be false positives, but you can’t imagine what the stress of not knowing and waiting for results does to a person over the space of a week or two.  They nearly called off my scheduled, pancreatic surgery in place of possible cancer treatment for the breast.

2009 and 2010 were a virtual maze of dr. appts, tests, research and decision making.  My pancreatic surgeon also presented me with the option of removing my ovaries at the time of having the pancreatic surgery.  That alone took a good while of serious contemplation, research, decision-making, consulting with all sorts of medical professionals (including finding a gynecological oncologist surgeon for the procedure), talking with other women with mutations, going to conferences regarding BRCA mutations, tons more research, making pros and cons lists, getting advice from friends, digging deep and “going to the mountain” so to speak, etc. etc.  I was only 36 at this time.

After finding out my breasts were okay but still possible ticking time bombs, I then had to make the decision to follow through with the distal pancreatectomy with splenectomy and possible bilateral oophorectomy (mind you, the pancreatic surgery alone is deemed very dangerous.  I was told by several doctors and general surgeons that they are told in medical school to stay away from the pancreas.  My gastroenterologist basically scared the crap out of me for two years, always with a line like, “you’re young, you’ll probably live through it.”).

November 2, 2010, surgery day, this went fine initially.  And then about a week or so after started the massive complications–almost 6 months worth.  I came close to dying several times during this period.  You can’t imagine how brutal this was.  Now I’m considered a Type 1 diabetic and I have a major, complex abdominal hernia and gruesome scar that still need to be repaired.  By the end of 2011, I started scouting various surgeons for the hernia repair and preventive, plastic surgery for my breasts.  My biggest issue being my weight.  All the surgeons wanted me to lose a significant amount before going ahead with the surgery.  Best results are at ideal/goal weight.  I’ll tell you now; this is easier said than done, having battled weight issues since my early teens.

Then in 2012, I had to make the decision to make a job transition.  Not something I wanted at the time, but felt pressured to make.  This was huge in itself as I’d been working for my previous firm for 12 and half years and could have easily settled in and retired from there, but I was a little restless regardless and my firm started downsizing so I sought work elsewhere.  Right after starting in my position with my new firm, I traveled to Boston for a friend’s wedding and got into a car accident.  Although no one was injured, this in itself turned into a months long, stressful and chaotic situation for my other friend and me as we battled with the rental car company, other driver and insurance companies.

Also within this time, around March 2013, my father had massive, congestive heart failure and was in the hospital and a nursery facility for 6-8 weeks and then needed assistance after returning home.  This brings us to the spring of 2013 and my breast cancer diagnosis and subsequent lumpectomy, 5 months of chemo and double mastectomies, from which I’ve only been recovering since January of this year, 2014.

In February of this year my father fell, fractured his skull and suffered severe bleeding in his brain.  He has spent weeks in the hospital and now doing rehab at a nursing facility.  My brother and I have been sorting through and dealing with his finances and personal needs.  All of which my father has made more difficult for everyone around him–Never thinking ahead, but letting things fell apart and leaving us to pick up the pieces.

In the midst of all of this I’ve personally struggled financially, was failing in the performance of my new job and let all the ordinary maintenance of relationships, home and life fall by the wayside.

Now my counselor says that since some of these burdens have been lifted from me, my brain, heart and body have made way for some sort of extreme grieving process, of which I’ve only started.  It’s very hard and feels like a lot of emotional baggage.  Very saddening and it’s hard to pull out of a depressed state.  I veered off the road at some point and am now lost in the woods.  I am focusing on trying to maintain my new eating plan, daily exercise and I’m back to taking my daily supplements.  However, I currently still feel like I’m mired neck deep in negative, sad, angry and bitter feelings and thoughts.  Almost like I can’t see straight–Just plain screwed up.  I’m trying to find my way out of this darkness as I don’t want these feelings to stay.  I have to find a way of accepting and moving forward.  It’s a bitch to say the least!

All this time I’ve been stuck in hyperdrive, just trying to survive and make it through things.  It’s only when we slow down that we are able to assess the damage.  The loss of what I anticipated life to look like.  The loss or delay of anticipated family and happiness.  My counselor says these things are still possible.  It takes getting past believing it’s all fubar.  Transformation has its setbacks.


No pain, No Gain

Dag-blamitt! :-)  I’m still having significant pain issues.  Why does it take so long to heal?   I’m ready to start implementing changes and getting into a good fitness routine.  That’s hard to do when your body doesn’t yet want to cooperate.  Some things I can start implementing.  Now that I found my wallet, it’s time to revisit Trader Joe’s and get transitioned to a more macrobiotic/raw foods based diet.  I feel I’m just going to have to work through the pain, grin and bear it so to speak, as that may be the only way to heal.  I have to move the upper part of my body.  I think if I’d chosen a full mastectomy vs. skin-sparing, I wouldn’t have such pain issues.  I think the majority of the pain comes from the remaining skin bunching and adhering to the chest wall, basically scar tissue type pain.   Hopefully, I’ll get into the Star Program at Seton Hospital that my oncologist’s office has referred me to and start physical therapy to get me into better shape to start a good fitness program.

The Odd Couple

So, the pain is still fairly prominent.  Since I’ve gone back to work, I’ve resorted to popping Tylenol and Aleve.  The prescribed pain medication makes me way too sleepy.  It’s not just the pain.  It’s the totally bizarre feeling of having to get used to a hallowed, morphed chest when you’ve been used to having boobs.  Not just boobs, but D cups.  The prosthesis doesn’t really mask the oddity of this feeling either.  And it seems just as bizarre to have pain and numbness at the same time.  Since my surgeon left the breast skin envelope, it’s all adhering to the chest wall, only there’s so much that it’s bunching up in places.  She did state this would happen.  It’s most annoying at the sides where my arms brush against it.  She stated that if needed, she could go back and take off more of the breast skin that was left, but leaving it this way for now will likely give me better recon results, so as long as I keep in mind this isn’t permanent, but very temporary, I’m okay.

The good news is I found my wallet.  It was on my kitchen table in a bag of firestarters. :-)

Sorting through it all

I hung out with my friend, Connie, on Saturday.  We grabbed some lunch, did a little shopping, got a mani/pedi, and then had a little dinner.  She brought up a crucial point I must consider in making my decision.  I have to think about which choice will not limit my future reconstructive or treatment options.

You can only have so much radiation in your lifetime.  They cut you off after a certain amount.  Makes sense–Who wants to spend the rest of their lives glowing like a neon light bulb and irradiating everything in their path.  Radiation may also limit my reconstructive options.  Plus, I planned to have boob surgery regardless.  In choosing radiation, I’d likely have to wait much longer for bimx/recon surgery.

I think now that it may just be more favorable for me to separate the mastectomy and reconstruction for a number of reasons (i.e., safety–it lessens the risk of complications, less surgery and recovery time, less trauma and contemplation over choices).  Many women choose to wait on reconstruction simply because they don’t want having to think about reconstruction to intervere with the cancer treatment itself.  Plus, with my hightened fear of any surgery, in this respect, taking it one step at a time would be more beneficial.

The fear of reconstruction has kept me from really going for prophylactic surgery prior to this.  Reconstruction has more risk of complications (failure of implants or flaps, higher rates of poor wound healing, skin and donor tissue necrosis, and the list goes on).  Mastectomy alone, as with all surgery, has its risks, but I’ve already been through the mega trauma of serious surgery with major complications and my fears of having these surgeries together are valid.  I’ve already witnessed first hand the misery complications produce.  Separation will allow for a slower induction into the long, reconstructive surgery process.

With delayed reconstuction, my fear is what psychological damage may come in the aftermath of the mastectomies alone.  I was never really into shoes, but after my panc surgery, I totally become a shoe girl.  The higher the heel, the prettier the style, I had to have it.  I wanted some small part of me to feel pretty and feminine when the rest of me didn’t.  Who knows how intensified such a feeling could become after mastectomies.  This is a very scary concept for me.   All of this comes secondary to the simple fact I’m doing this to try and save my own life, but it doesn’t lessen the valid, emotional trauma I’m still faced with.

I watched Super Soul Sunday yesterday with Mark Nepo and Kris Carr (two of my favorites).   In listening to Mark Nepo’s conversation with Oprah and the words of Kris Carr, I was able to gain a greater understanding of my own personal growth in relation to my cancer.  I see the role it’s playing in opening/awakening me to my own spiritual path.  I understand more clearly about my own conscienceness and the power and strength that come from surrender and acceptance.

I know we are all constantly learning, changing and evolving.  My hope is that I am able to surrender to and accept making such a profound choice with enough strength and courage to lessen any psychological hardship.  My desire is for such growth to bring me to a state of grace, acceptance, extreme self-worth and self-love.  This, in turn, may help me to dismantle some of my own false beliefs about the shallow, physical aspects of beauty and gain a truer understanding of my own womanhood.

System overload–Possible shutdown soon

So, this is where I’m at right now.  About to make what feels like the most crucial, life altering decisions of my life–not that I haven’t already been here before multiple times.  This time it’s different–So much more intense, and close!  The decisions seem more brutal and overwhelming even though I’ve known of these possible scenarios for some time.

I’m still currently not a candidate for immediate reconstruction and my doc is not content on waiting any longer, saying that radiation several months from now won’t be the same as doing it right after chemo.  I know she’s right.  So here are my choices:  (1) do bimx now and delay reconstruction [With this I’m faced with more scarring, more surgeries and giving up a huge, physical part of my sexuality as a woman, at least for a time in delaying reconstruction (I already have a hideous scar from my panc surgery that still needs to be fixed.  Can I also conquer the part of me that still sees my identity as a woman wrapped up in my having breasts?); however, I’d be gaining the most benefit in combating an exceptionally high recurrence rate of a very aggressive, hard to treat cancer that so far, in my case, they caught in its earliest stage with no lymph node involvement]; or, (2) I can still take the easier route of radiation knowing I’d be delaying bimx/recon even longer and still playing with the risk of recurrence, secondary or contralateral breast cancer (highest rate within 3 yrs).

No-brainer, right?   Currently, and quite bizarrely, studies show mastectomy vs. lumpectomy with radiation to have the same survival rates.  The latest studies showing lumpectomy with radiation may even be a safer bet.  Again, though, I’m in the “you got really genetically screwed” category so not sure how much of these studies are based on BRCA1 mutants.  As Nurse Pat at TxOnc told me Thursday, “you don’t have an old person’s cancer, you have a young person’s cancer, which is more aggressive.”

Before you judge or say, “I know what I’d do,” just remember you are not walking in my shoes!  Sometimes having to make the choice seems harder than not, even though you know that having the choice is certainly better.

Can my psyche handle the decisions I’m faced with, now and after?  I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  A friend stated earlier today, “Whether your psyche can take it won’t matter much if you’re gone.”  She’s right; I just have to get in the right headspace about it all.  I have to go through the emotions and the continual processing of it all.  Its torture I tell you!  I have further consults with the RadOnc and my breast surgeon so those will hopefully help in my decision process.

Honestly, every aspect of my life is totally fubar at present and I feel like I’m in system overload and about to seriously shutdown at any minute.  You know that saying about God only giving you what you can handle?  It’s total crap in my book!  One friend brought that exact phrase up to me last year and then said, “God must think you can handle an awful lot.”  I hate hearing the phrase now!  Sorry, I know I’m being a complete downer in this post, but it’s where I’m at and it all should be captured, not just the upbeat, inspirational stuff.

Please send warm thoughts and wishes as my coming days, weeks, months, and possibly years will be harder than I can conceptualize right now.  As if I haven’t already been through the ringer on a consistent basis, well for as long as I can remember now.  Where is the light at the end of this dark tunnel?  Is there one?

UPDATE:  In going back and re-reading additional research articles, doctors opinions and posts from women on the triple-negative foundation forum, those few of us who are BRCA1 with TNBC present with greater risk of recurrence regardless of surgical choice or staging.  TNBC is scary, nasty and tricky.  It doesn’t play by the rules.  “TNBC may harbor more microscopic residual disease” and therefore mastectomy more highly recommended, but not necessarily a safer bet.  It is still possible for microscopic cells to travel to distant sites, be found in residual breast tissue or lymph nodes even after treatment for stage 1 diagnosis and/or bilateral mastectomies.  Conclusion, double mastectomies could save my life or I could be damned regardless.

I’ve never shied away from learning the hard facts.  Information is power, even when it’s difficult to take in.  That said, I’ve read some of this before, but I just didn’t want to believe it.

A woman’s choice of what she is most comfortable with still applies.  Some women have lumpectomies and never get TNBC or other type breast cancer again and some have double mastectomies at an early stage or even prophylactically (preventive, before cancer) and are then diagnosed as stage 4.  As with the rest of life, I guess, it’s all a crapshoot.

DIY retreat to commense this weekend

I’ll be preparing and focusing on the start of my retreat this weekend.  I’m excited to take some serious time to focus inward and make serious changes regarding my physical, mental, emotional and spiritual wellbeing.  I’ve been teetering back and forth for some time.  Making strides and then collapsing back into old habits again.  This last time in a serious way!  I need crucial change now!   It’s time to dig in, work hard and move forward.

Yesterday was my 9th chemo treatment on Taxol.  3 more to go.  The countdown has begun! :-)  My last treatment is November 14th.  I was thinking of an ‘end of chemo’ happy hour or something–Possibly at my favorite Austin restaurant, Fonda San Miguel.  I will think on it some more.  For the very few who actually read my blog, please chime in!

I had a long heart to heart with the nurse practitioner at the MedOnc’s office yesterday.  She noticed that I’ve been moving in the wrong direction regarding my health and wellbeing and not focusing any longer on preparing for surgery.  I seem to be sabotaging myself, yet again.  Just the thought of surgery makes me teary-eyed.  I started getting emotional just talking with her about it.  It’s not just that it’s a major, life-altering surgery; my fear comes from the pancreatic surgery I endured 3 years ago for a rare, mucinous cystadenoma.  Initially, everything went fine, and then the complications started.  I suffered many complications, several more stints in the hospital, more surgeries, and painful rehabilitation with a 6-month recovery.  I cannot express here how brutal that all was.  I almost didn’t make it a number of times.

This has struck a fear of surgery in me that is so strong.  Honestly, it’s not the fear of surgery itself, but of the complications that can develop.  I have to move past it, somehow.  I’m hoping my DIY retreat will help me conquer this fear and move forward with preparing for surgery.  I cannot afford to keep moving the timeframe of surgery.  It must happen within the next 6 months, and my doc has made it clear sooner than later.  My MedOnc has given me a window that I must stick to, to stay on the safe side of things, hopefully!

My MedOnc has asked me to consider mastectomies and delaying reconstruction, but even now, as I write this I’m tearing up.  I cannot.  It’s too hard.  It’s all really hard.   My situation is different than the average woman’s, always has been.

Many women jump at having this done, immediately.  Their fear is very justified.  More and more women are having bimx/recon surgeries, a good majority who do not need to take such drastic measures.  Breast cancer scares the crap out of you.  I know, I’ve had this monkey on my shoulder my whole life!  I, unfortunately, fall into the category that absolutely should take such drastic measures.

I’ve always been on the forefront of this.  Knowing of my family history, I started seeing my breast surgeon in my early twenties.  She has been monitoring me ever since and even performed my recent lumpectomy.  When the BRCA gene testing became available, well, I didn’t do it right away but knew if I found out I did have a mutation I’d do what I needed to do to save my life.  But, after the panc surgery, everything became so much more difficult.  So many obstacles, around every corner.  The opposite has happened.  I’ve turned my fear of surgery into a more palpable beast than my fear of dying from breast cancer.  What kind of crap is that?  It’s all hard–So many brutal decisions!

I know I’m a survivor, I always have been, my whole life; but, how much can God place on one person?  How strong do I have to become?


My doctor’s office has concluded I have a skin infection on my breast.  The nurse initially stated it sounded like a reaction to the Taxol and that they’d likely have to place me back on steroids–Something I don’t want to do.  They’ve decided to place me on antibiotics for 10 days to see if it clears.  Sara, the nurse practitioner, said to me, “tell your body to stop making complications for us.”  I said “I’ll try, but I don’t think it’s listening to me.” ;-)