Soldiers in the same battle

No two breast cancer stories are the same. No two treatment scenarios are the same. There are as many treatment plans as there are variables. You can’t compare one case with another. I suspect it’s that way with every kind of cancer, whether lung cancer, pancreatic or multiple myeloma. I don’t know, but I’ll never be tempted to compare one person’s stamina with another’s.

With last month being breast cancer awareness month, I felt bombarded with breast cancer stories. At the same time I was seeking conversation with other women with breast cancer in order to decide on my own options. But none of the women I read about or talked to shared my diagnosis. No one seemed to have “mastectomy with node involvement, Stage II invasive ductal carcinoma with hormone-receptive and HER2/neu positive cells.”

Then I happened upon Bonnie in the chair next to me yesterday. She had the same diagnosis, a month ahead of me. Found on routine mammogram, but since her mother had had breast cancer in her 70’s, she wasn’t as surprised as I was. She is about my size. About my age. She has the same oncologist. She was getting Taxotere and Cytoxan every two weeks, too – but she said she couldn’t go on after the fourth round. She felt too, too, awful.

I could have hugged her for sharing her misery! When I told her I had five rounds before I gave up (not to mention two root canals and a hospital stay), she gave me a look that said “you go, girl!” At last I didn’t feel like the biggest wimp in the pool of breast cancer babes!

So we commiserated about the length of our treatments compared to others’. We commiserated about the nasty side effects of Taxotere. We shared our fears about the future and what we’d do when/if the cancer comes back. We talked about how fortunate we were that we didn’t have young children to care for during chemo and that we had nice, supportive husbands. We talked about our abandoned gardens this year. We talked about our “lost summer of 2007.” And we didn’t care who heard us. It just bubbled to the surface.

And yet, she and I are now on slightly different paths. Because (?) Bonnie had only four full chemo treatments, Doc switched her from Taxotere to a less nasty chemo drug and put her on a longer schedule for completing it. (He suggested the same for me after my round 4, as I recall, but I opted to do round 5 instead to see how it went. I didn’t want to start something new and string it out even longer*.)

Undoubtedly, because we are both “Tuesday people” we will run into one another again. If not, I have her phone number in case we find more to commiserate about as we move into radiation and hormone therapy. What an instant bond of sisterhood with someone who knows. Of course I’m sorry Bonnie’s had the same rough time of it, but as long as we’re both in this game, I’m oh-so glad we met.

*Yesterday I got Doc to admit that 5 rounds of Taxotere every other week might indeed be just as effective as 6 rounds given every three weeks. This of course made me feel better and I think he gave me points for stubborn optimism.