The first cut is the deepest

"Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible." - Saint Francis of Assisi

In this first week of breast cancer treatment, I was most nervous about the minor surgery required for installing the chemo port. I met the surgeon on Monday, and Tuesday he dug in to my skin after making me fast for 12 hours (which did not cater well to my learning style for the chemo education session that occurred immediately preceding the procedure. Can you say "hangry?"). Now, I basically have a bottle cap sized device - called a "super port," since it's undoubtedly here to save the day - tucked in the skin beneath my clavicle. The port feels bigger and more tender than I hoped, and I'm a big baby about all the bruising around it. The photo below doesn't really do it justice, since it was still fresh and bandaged.

My first chemo appointment ✅

So, when we saw the surgeon on Monday, he reiterated that my tumor should be very responsive to the chemo. Specifically, he said it should "melt away." Which makes me want to name this thing, so I can taunt it into disappearing.

A few early contenders are: 

• Felicia - This option is a pop culture nod, mostly so I can say "Bye, Felicia" as she peaces out
• The Death Star - Since cancerous tumors are star-shaped (and mine is no different than most) and I love Star Wars movies, this name would give me copious options for quotes. "Stay on target..."
• The Wicked Witch of the Breast - Too obvious? Maybe. But if pouring some chemo on the tumor makes her melt into a puddle, then this witch will not get a chance to send her flying monkeys any further into my system

Your additional suggestions for punny names are welcome! 

Yesterday's chemotherapy experience really wasn't traumatic. The set-up is actually quite cozy... I sat in a recliner facing windows with a view of the Rocky Mountains, eating ice chips (to reduce the occurrence of mouth sores) and playing on my laptop, while a nurse put me through the paces of the chemo. We had a little glitch getting started, but the rest of the process was seamless. My Dad managed to find several little snacks to nibble on in the well-stocked pantry of the infusion room (of course!), and I was able to enjoy a Chipotle bowl for lunch.

An infusion room with a view (top), my Dad enjoying his
German chocolate birthday cake, and a perfect gift from Erica!

Amidst the delay early in the appointment, my nurse navigator Jamie came by to check in and keep things moving along. She's a delight, and we started talking about my nephews (my little faves!). I showed her pictures from their recent visit, and as I was flipping through images I landed on some of them petting and feeding giraffes this summer at Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. Jamie exclaimed, "Oh, I love giraffes!" And, I got chills. Miranda loved giraffes, and that moment felt like a little reminder she's with me through this. As if that wasn't sign enough, my nurse for the chemo, Nichol, had a big quote tattooed on her forearm... I had to ask about it, and she told us that her father had been a vibrant guy who succumbed to a brain tumor like Miranda's - the tattoo was an ode to his passion and fire. 

I don't have too much else to report since the treatment yesterday. I've had a little nausea in these initial two days. And, the fatigue has kicked in. Spent much of my time today, between a few appointments, napping. 

I'm bracing myself for the "worst days" after chemo, which may be tomorrow and Saturday as the steroids wear off, bone ache sets in, and I may develop an upset stomach. No worries, I'll refrain from posting any pics that might drag y'all down with me ;)

I must say that I have felt beyond loved in recent days! In addition to having my parents here with me and Sean's tireless attendance to my needs, I've been inundated with thoughtful cards, gifts, plants/flowers, snacks, Facebook posts, texts, emails, jokes, and pictures. Although it's really tough to stay on top of the messages, I am grateful beyond belief that so many people are invested in my battle and success. Thank you for reaching out to me - know your words and actions make a difference!