My "cancer-versary"

This past week marked the one year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. On one hand, it seems like much more than a year has passed. On the other hand, I remember like it was just yesterday the radiologist telling me the lump on my breast was probably cancer. So what did I do to celebrate my "cancer-versary"? It just so happens that my mother-in-law is visiting with us in Austin, and she treated Mr. Pincushion and I to dinner at a restaurant called Uchiko. The head chef there is Paul Qui, who was recently awarded the title of "Top Chef" on the Bravo television show (we're big fans of the show). While we didn't see the chef, the meal was scrumptious!

My latest doctor appointment

I had a checkup with my breast surgeon this past week. She didn't find anything abnormal, which is great, but she only performed a physical examination. If there was any cancer growing in my breast or somewhere else in my body, she wouldn't be able to detect it until it was big enough to feel. I know I probably shouldn't be thinking about stuff like that, but it's hard not to. She did say that she will order other tests if I have any suspicious symptoms. Apparently, there is no scientific evidence that scans increase survival rates. Additionally, once a year she will do diagnostic imaging of my breasts. In any case, I did learn some interesting information. Recurrences of triple-negative breast cancer usually happen within the first three years. I'm not sure if this is measured from the time of the initial diagnosis, or from the time treatment is completed. I'll have to google that. Or maybe not. Anyway, studies show that people who make it past the three year mark have dramatically lower rates of recurrence. The other thing I learned is that I need to massage my breast tissue expanders every day until they are swapped out for the real implants. Massaging will help prevent the tissue from hardening any further, and by "coaxing" them towards each other I may end up with a little cleavage. To tell the truth, cleavage is not a big deal for me. I never had much to begin with!

Chemo Curls!

I have heard all the stories, but this strange phenomenon I've been warned about is now starting to happen to me. Apparently, the new hair that grows back after chemotherapy can take on the opposite texture of the hair before chemo. So for the first time in my life, my hair is growing in curly. I always thought it would be nice to have curly hair, but now that I'm living with it, I've decided I much prefer it straight. It's really hard to style short, curly hair into a cute but edgy 'do. Rather than cool and hip, my curls make me feel matronly and frumpy. Ugh...

I've been told that chemo curls are usually a temporary thing, and my hair should go back to being straight in about a year or so. Maybe all the grey will go away, too!

Polly volunteers

Yesterday I finished my second stint of volunteering in the infusion room at the same oncology center where I did my chemo. I go every Thursday afternoon for one or two hours as a representative of the Breast Cancer Resources Center, to visit with people while they're getting their infusion. This experience is definitely outside of my comfort zone. I'm introverted; it's hard for me to just start a conversation with a stranger. Plus, these strangers are people going through hell, and they're feeling crappy, adding another layer to the awkwardness. I try to read the patients' body language before approaching them. Sometimes it's easy, like when they're asleep. I'm obviously not going to shake someone awake and say "Hey, how ya doin today?" I also try to avoid approaching people who are engrossed in a book, or busy conversing with a family member or friend.

Mr. Pincushion had a good idea for an ice-breaker for me...offer food! So today I went to the infusion room armed with a tray full of chocolate chip cookies. Most people were happy to take a cookie. When I offered one to an elderly lady, her eyes twinkled with excitement as she gave me a big smile. She practically purred "thank you so much." Of course, in the process of handing out cookies and feeling awkward, I didn't even think to tell the people I met that only a few months ago I was laying in one of these same chairs, and now I'm cancer free! Now that's a good conversation starter! Oh well, I'll have to try that next time. I'm sure this will get easier.