January 21st — Before I begin my 38 consecutive days of radiation, Greg and I are whisking away for a wonderful three-day ski trip to Colorado! We booked at Steamboat Springs and leave tomorrow at 6 a.m. Thank you Nana for babysitting. I’m thrilled that several girlfriends are sending their ski clothes to Colorado with me — Meridith said she was happy that her clothes get to go skiing even if she doesn’t. That’s a woman who loves her clothes. When I asked my oncologist about going on a spontaneous ski trip, he said he was quite concerned about my health while skiing. When I looked surprised, he finished, “so you need to take your oncologist with you.”

January 20th — Our regular high school crossing guard tore his ACL playing field hockey so has been recuperating from orthopedic surgery. His mom has been our temporary crossing guard. She’s very chatty and friendly and helped adjust Daniel’s bicycle helmet this afternoon as we crossed to pick up Sara from Math Club. I casually mentioned the start of my radiation on Monday. She acted genuinely shocked and said she had no idea I was fighting cancer. I laughed about my extremely short haircut being a giveaway. The lovely crossing guard said she thought I had a fashionable and cute short cut! I can pass for someone who doesn’t have cancer? By the way, my hair is thick, dark blonde, slightly wavy and about an inch long all over my head. I never would have chosen this hairstyle, but now that it’s been chosen for me, I think I like it. I started to lose my hair at the end of May 2009 and have returned to a form of normalcy in January 2010. Seven months. Wow. That seems like yesterday and at the same time like years ago. What is it they say about how time flies…

January 17th — After returning from a late night at the circus, I encouraged my children to get ready for bed. Greg continued to work on the computer and Sara complained about how the adults and children follow different rules in our house. She said she wanted to go live in another house where she could stay up as late as the grown-ups. I told her in a matter-of-fact tone of voice that God intended for her to grow up in our house and that’s why she lives with us. Sara immediately contradicted me, “no, God intended for me to grow up in a mansion with crystal floors and a staircase and a balcony and a swimming pool and a puppy.” She didn’t miss a beat as she rattled off her list. I was a bit flabbergasted, but only for a few seconds since I have lived with my strong-willed daughter for seven years now! Greg and I laughed at Sara’s comment and he immediately suggested I blog about this incident. It reminds me of a quote that I put next to Sara’s picture in a photobook I created recently. The rock star diva Madonna once said, “I want now what I’ve always wanted ever since I was a little girl. I want to rule the world.”

January 16th — I asked Greg if he thought I’d ever know what caused my cancer. When I am face-to-face with God, will He tell me if it was the 1000 bags of Cheetos I ate for lunch during junior and high school? Greg replied that he didn’t think I’d care and added, “would you even remember to ask God that?” I said probably not because I really just want to know what happened to Jon Benet Ramsey.

January 14th — There is a saying in cancer world that people are nicer to you when you’re bald. Today I took my car to the dealership for its 30K mile service. I was slightly over the mileage because I’ve been a bit busy in the last few months… My service advisor checked the computer records to see if a certain recall had been performed on my car and I laughed about how during my six months of chemo, I barely remembered my name, let alone what service had been performed on my Highlander. Since I’m sporting a very cute but extremely short pixie haircut, I think it was obvious that I wasn’t joking about the cancer. My advisor immediately expressed his well wishes for my good health and said he was going to give me employee pricing on the service. When I got my car back in an hour, he said “it’s on the house.” Champion Toyota comped my entire service. That made me tear up and I told him I was about to cry, making all these burly car mechanic types at the service bay shuffle their feet awkwardly and pat me on the shoulder. Nice to know that Friday ended on a good note since this week has been unusually hard.

January 14th — I didn’t want a permanent reminder of my time in cancer world so balked when I found out the radiology machine creates permanent tattoos on women’s chests for alignment purposes. My doc was nice when I discussed it with him and said I didn’t have to have tattoos, I could just have Sharpie marks that will be redrawn when they start to wear off. That was easy. I then had my CT mapping to take 3-D pictures so the radiology oncologist can figure out a plan to direct the machine to irradiate me. I had my body cast made too, but it’s not a nice busty sculpture I can display later. It’s more a form I lay in while on the radiation table to keep my body in the same position every treatment. While the tech was molding the form around my shoulder and raised arms, we were discussing my schedule since I’ll need to come in for treatment 33- 38 weekdays for about 30 minutes each time. It’s a longer timeframe than most patients since the doc wants to radiate both breasts not just one side. The tech asked how flexible I was and I started to explain that I was getting more upper body flexibility back after my implant surgery since my arms and shoulders used to be very limber before my mastectomy. We both laughed when we realized she wasn’t talking about my physical condition, but my daily schedule!

January 13th — My second opinion radiology oncologist came in the room and asked if I wanted the short or the long consultation. When I asked him to start with with the short, he said, “yes.” He said undoubtedly I was a prime candidate for radiation following chemotherapy. Then he launched into the long version. The bottom line is that I had four tumors in my two breasts, which is unusual and aggressive, the placement of the tumors meant that it’s probable some cancer cells started to spread into other healthy tissue, and the lymph node involvement is a percentage game, not a numbers game. I only had three on one side, but it was three out of six, which is 50%. Glad I took Calculus in college and could figure that out! On the other side, I had four out of seven, which is a percentage higher than 50%. It’s likely more of my lymph system was compromised. So, to be safe, medical science likes to hit the patient with drugs and radiation. Herceptin is the big question mark, since that puts me into a holding pattern of sorts, where no cancer should be growing at all. This guy recommended 38 rounds of radiation at 180 instead of 33 at 200, whatever that means. Megahertz or killowatts or however the radiation guys measure power. So, I’ve thrown the discrepency in wattage back to my medical oncologist to chat with the radiation guys. And tomorrow I go for my body cast (Meridith wanted to know if I get to keep it and display it in my living room after the radiation!) and begin radiation as soon as possible. I’m in the game now. Bring it on, cancer, bring it on.

January 12th — Life is just hard right now. I can’t stop crying. My oncologist believes without a doubt that I need to do radiation. He apologized for the misunderstanding but always intended for me to seek the opinion of a radiology oncologist. I thought it was after “all” my chemo, which would be August 2010. It was really supposed to be after the ACT regimen, which ended October 22nd. Did I miss the window for starting radiation? He said no. But, really, no one knows is the answer to most of my questions in cancer world. Does Herceptin take the place of radiation? No one really knows. Do I need to do both? No one really knows. Does radiation guarantee longterm survivorship? No one really knows. What about this “unclear margin” business on the tumors? No one really knows because the surgery is blood and craziness with a 5 mm tumor sitting at the back of the breast material. Did the surgeon get it all? No one really knows. I told my oncologist I was done with the fight and not ready to go into radiation. He seemed a bit daunted by the sudden change from the upbeat and courageous cancer fighter telling the carcinoma to “bring it on” to this new weepy creature. After taking such an aggressive stand throughout this fight, why back away now? I’ve lost my momentum. Or the crazy drugs have worn off and cancer has revealed my true self. And my true self is scared and tired and weepy. I found the 4 A/C regimens grueling but survivable with the side effect medicines. I thought the 12 weekly Taxol/Herceptin treatments even more horrible due to the constant nature. It never let up. Every week. And now I’m facing 33 straight days of radiation? Even if it’s not as bad as chemo, it’s every single weekday for 7 weeks. Yes, it’s only on weekdays, because as my oncologist said, trying to coax a smile from his crying patient, “didn’t you know that cancer doesn’t grow on the weekends?” I’m sure I’ll rally. I just keep crying today. I’m probably due a day or two to just cry. Life just seems hard right now. And I know it’s no more difficult right now than it was six months ago or nine months ago, and I got through that fine. Really, God, 33 straight days of sunburnt painful torture and exhausting fatigue? Really, this is my life?

January 11th — While waiting for all my second opinions regarding radiation, I thought I’d relate a funny thing that happened with my friend Julie’s 7-year-old. For his first grade journalism project, he is supposed to interview someone who has had a life-changing event in the past year. Julie immediately suggested Mama Amy. Her son innocently asked, “really? what life-changing event has she had this year?” Julie has had several conversations with her children about my cancer, chemo treatments and my lack of hair. Since I see this family about once a week and the son has clearly seen my radically different hairstyles in the past months, Julie reminded him about my bald head and how often I’ve been wearing hats over the last few months. The son, who is an unusually smart and gifted young man, still professed ignorance of my condition saying, “really? she’s bald?” It would be funny, but I predict this same boy will grow into a man not noticing his wife’s new haircut or new dress and be the blunt object of exasperation for the women in his life. Sigh. It begins so early…

January 10th — Try as it might, cancer and its fun world can’t keep me down. I heard from several folks about their radiation experiences not being as bad as I had feared. And I was able to rearrange my cooking business so that my radiation schedule wouldn’t impact it as much, which was a relief. I have a second opinion scheduled for Monday, a visit with my regular oncologist on Tuesday, and a meeting with my plastic surgeon this week as well. Greg is still not convinced radiation is in my future. What no one knows is how the wonder drug Herceptin impacts the survivability rates of radiation. As much as the radiation oncologist says that radiation plays a big role in preventing local recurrence, I know several other breast cancer patients who had radiation and then a local recurrence. Nothing is 100 percent, but I don’t want to go on old data to make my decision. While the chemo was a short-term affair, the physical side effects of the radiation will be permanent. The bottom line is that no one really knows. The doctors don’t know, the researchers don’t know, I don’t know. So, I gather information and assume whatever decision I make will be the best one.