At this moment, I'm not in any kind of treatment. It's not a pause that refreshes, mostly due to a really bad cold and sinus "ick." My daughter, whom I live with right now, is optimistic, kind, and non-interfering. She gave me pink flowers when I was diagnosed and offers to bring things I need from her errands. She put up a sign that says, "Be a warrior, not a worrier."
On my evening walks last year, I met a woman near my age. In our chats, she once referred to herself as a cancer survivor. She urged me to go with her to visit a gym where she has a regular workout several times a week. When I was diagnosed, I took her up on her ongoing invitation to ring her bell for a chat. She has been amazingly supportive.
The most scary thing about leaving my longtime home in L.A. area was leaving my doctors, whom I loved and trusted. When the biopsy results were not good, the mammo doctor referred me to a surgeon. Her phrase "we work with him all the time," was not enough reassurance to calm me. He turned out to be calm and delightful - no false optimism, no "white coat distance." He feels like my medical safety net right now. The surgery went beautifully. Bottom line: I like him. We get along. I trust him.
Radiation was not bad. The very best part was the two radiation therapists I may have mentioned. They were kind, knowledgeable, down to earth, and fun. They treated me like a friend.
Wednesday, I see the surgeon again for followup.
Then, the first medical oncologist visit. The surgeon thinks I will like this man. I hope I will. And I hope he will have solutions for some of my worries.
Right now, I have to exercise.
So far, so good.