Chemo 7/8

In honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (just in case you didn't notice all of the pink crap for sale everywhere):
6,000 Runners Fail To Discover Cure For Breast Cancer

Before today's chemo started, a nurses' aid took my blood pressure, temperature and checked my weight. I've gained 11 pounds since starting chemotherapy. Not too surprising to me; lately I've been straining to get into jeans, and zipping skirts up three-quarters of the way and covering the gap with a long top. Weight gain during chemotherapy for breast cancer is very common. It is poorly understood, however. It could be due to hormonal changes, stress-related overeating, or lowered activity levels. I am an over-achiever in this regard--apparently a 10 lb. gain is typical of women receiving a six month regimen of chemotherapy, and I've only had not quite four months.

During my session, Nurse L dragged Dr. G in to take a quick look at me. It was the least he could do, seeing that he missed the last two scheduled appointments. I was already hooked up to the drip, so disrobing wasn't an option. Thanks to an American Apparel t-shirt bra and my rapidly eroding sense of modesty, I just hoisted everything up to give him a look-see. "The tumor appears to be shrinking," he confirmed. He seemed to think I was doing well, otherwise. We asked him about the surgery, frustrated with the fact that we had no idea when it was going to actually happen. He said that his office would contact the surgeon when I have my final chemo. I'll believe it when I see it.