Every Ache is a Pain

Today, I received the quarterly reassuring news that my tumor markers were the same as last time, with no elevation. My oncologist seemed pleased, and therefor so was I.

I was almost out the door to pick up my 10 year son from school, preoccupied with being late because my oncologist had been an hour behind schedule, when I was reminded by a persistent pain in my hip that I had forgotten to mention to the doctor. It's a pain that I've had for a few months and it can actually take my breath away if I move wrong every now and then.

Now, I'm not trying to be dramatic, but the truth, for me at least, is that even the smallest ache that doesn't subside in time causes pause for concern - is it cancer? Admittedly, that's what goes through my mind when I have a nagging ache that cannot be tamed by Advil or Tylenol.

I know that chemotherapy and the Tamoxifen I take can cause joint pain, but unfortunately, so can cancer. So when I casually and sort of "Oh by the way" mentioned it to my oncologist, he promptly returned me to the exam room. "I don't think it's cancer, but you'll need an MRI so we can see what's going on." He said.

Knowing full well that breast cancer often travels to the bones, it took me back to all the testing I had to do when I was first diagnosed and it got my over active imagination going again. I'm sure it's what I had suspected, residual side affects from the cancer treatment, or, um, old age, but nevertheless, my mind, oh how it wanders.

Please pray for me while I will wait for the MRI and subsequent results (probably within the next few weeks). In the meantime, I will try to make light of this by recalling and trying to believe the wisely spoken words of Arnold Schwarzenegger "It's not a tumor!"

http://youtu.be/6ucfgdFrlho

It's not me, it's you.

It's that time again, my quarterly blood letting and screening for cancer markers. Because I've had lymph nodes removed from both armpits and I'm at risk for lymphedema, I can't give blood the conventional way - instead I have to have it drawn from my hand. In truth, I'm really supposed to have it drawn from my feet, but that prospect seems even worse, so I'll take my chances with my hand, though it's quite painful to say the least. With a skilled phlebotomist, it can be less painful, but the problem is, I haven't found a skilled one anywhere in the year I've been having to deal with this challenge.

I'm so tired of the pokes and prods and multiple failed attempts to get a 'good' vein, and what's more, I'm tired of listening to the technician actually try to blame me! "Your blood clots really quickly, the needle must be clogged." "Did you not drink enough fluids today?" "You need to hold as still as possible!" That last one is next to impossible - clenching my fist as a rubber band cuts off all remaining feeling in my arm, all the while fighting back tears and a general feeling that I'm about to pass out.

I liken it to going to the dentist and as the hygienist is stabbing your gums and making them bleed, she says "Wow, your gums are really bleeding, are you not flossing?" Hmph!

The predictably painful ritual of having my blood drawn may seem like a trivial complaint compared to the events of the past year, but I find that it's a bit like adding insult to injury....or better put, adding insult AND injury to injury.

Today, I asked the gal if she was good at drawing blood from the hand and she replied "We'll see!" She wasn't.

Really...it's you, not me, phlebotomist!!

I meet with my oncologist next week for the results...I'll keep you poked...er, uh, I mean posted.

xo

Lisa