Ugh. Since my diagnosis, I have tried to remain positive, and for the most part I have. Sure, I cried a ton in the beginning and I would wake up every morning and say, "Shit, this is still my life." As soon as I started chemo and I knew my treatment plan, I started to feel like I had some sort of control over what was happening to me. Well, I finished chemo and went in for a follow-up and to plan for radiation today, and I pretty much lost it in my oncologist's office.
I had a ton of questions about follow-up care and how to make sure I can catch a recurrence early, blah, blah, blah.... and my oncologist didn't phrase his answers like I needed to hear them and then he gave me too much statistical information. When he said the words "metastatic breast cancer" I started tuning him out and then I looked at him and said "I am going to cry now." And that was it...
Major waterworks in his office, major waterworks in the blood draw room. I cried while I was in the CT machine. The crying continued while I was getting my Herceptin infusion and all the 70-year-olds looked at me like what I was doing in public was unacceptable. I seriously couldn't help it. Today was just one of those days... if my brain wasn't occupied with a conversation, I was thinking horrific shit.
Beat down. I am emotionally beat down. I am 6 months into this thing and my oncologist reminded me that I have only just begun. He was just full of warm fuzzy words for me.