The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

It seems that things rarely go as planned, or at least, not exactly as planned. My plan was to have my breasts removed, reconstructed shortly after that and be blessed with perky new breasts and be cured of my cancer. I was to be done by the end of the summer….well, that’s not how it’s going to go.

I am going to have to go through chemotherapy. THAT was NOT part of my initial plan.

When I got my initial diagnosis, I was told I had stage zero, estrogen sensitive, non invasive, DCIS cancer. I did my homework, talked to the doctor, and thought the surgery was going to be the hardest part of this process. Chemotherapy was never part of my plan.

The breast tissue was all removed and analyzed for the exact cancer location and type. The unexpected result of the tissue analysis was the presence of a secondary cancer that wasn’t detected in the biopsy or in the MRI. The MRI showed an area of what was thought to be a fibrous benign growth. Once it was analyzed under the microscope, a 1 cm by 6 mm triple negative, invasive cancerous tumor was found. This kind of cancer is more aggressive and more likely to come back. The good news here is that my tumor was so small that I’m actually considered in the gray area that I don’t necessarily need chemo, but as a precautionary measure, it’s recommended that I go through a minimal course of treatment.

In addition to the breast tissue, I had 4 lymph nodes removed. These were checked to see if there was any progress of the cancer outside of the breast tissue. Three of the nodes came back completely clear. One came back indicating the presence of keratin (if I understand this correctly, it’s a protein that indicates cancer) in less than 200 cells, but in these numbers, is still considered a clean lymph node. Again, this is considered a VERY small number, keeping me in that gray area.

Today was the day that I first met with my oncologist to get the full chemo plan. I’ve known for a couple of weeks that I’d have to go through this and have been doing my best to process all of it. I have a tendency to jump to the worst case scenario, but the reality of all of this is that it’s really not going to be nearly as bad as I first thought.

I can hear you saying, “But Kim, you are going to put poison into your body. You don’t even like to take pain meds,” and you’re right. I don’t. I would much rather find a better way. The fact is, this is the best way to guarantee my survival. I am blessed with a strong and healthy body, besides this cancer crap, and it has helped me tremendously in my healing so far. I’ve surprised all of my doctors with how well I’m healing and my range of motion with my arms.

I have a grand total of four treatments, one treatment every three weeks so it’ll be all done in 12 weeks. Roughly 12 weeks from now is Labor Day. And roughly 13 weeks from now is the UW Marching Band Alumni Band day. I will be there. I won’t march, but I’ll be there. All. Damn. Day. This all figured into when my first day of treatment was to be scheduled. A girl’s gotta have priorities, right?

I’m going to lose my hair. And my eyebrows. And my eyelashes. BUT I won’t have to shave my legs for the next few weeks, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

The quest has begun for the world’s coolest wig, hat and bandana….or are they called do (doo? dew?) rags? Either way, I’m looking for some sort of kick-ass head covering. I’m probably going to just shave it off before it starts falling out in clumps. Maybe I’ll look badass…maybe I’ll just look bad. My children have certainly done their best to help. My nearly 12 year-old daughter has graciously offered to let me borrow her green and orange St. Patrick’s Day wig and my 15 year-old son thinks I look smashing in a Darth Vader helmet. Thanks for your help, kids….

The upside is that all of this temporary. It’s just another hill to climb and another means of finding my strength. I’m going to still be here, years from now. I’ll have some interesting stories and memories and a unique view of the world…post cancer. And as my son says, a better view of my toes…at least for the time being.