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This is sort of long, but a catch up and I hope worth reading for you.

I don’t know what caused the mindset change,  I have been a pretty positive person about this disease and outcome. Maybe not the symptoms or the out of control testing and locations …. But today, I went in differently.

It all started with Elvis socks my grandson got me to wear to chemo. On Sunday I decided if I were wearing the socks then I would show, then I just added to the outfit. You know what? I’m not normal, let’s do this up bright and out there. I thought. I called my son, Noah for eccentric help.

The outfit changed my whole attitude. People looked at me wondering if I just didn’t have a fashion sense or maybe not all there.

I didn’t want to be like the other women in the waiting room. Sad and quiet, looking lost or looking for a fight. Which apparently a fight broke out over Price is Right while I was getting examined.

Positive and bright like my outfit. Not to mention my naked Sam and Dean Supernatural Pillow.

Although taking a view inhales of my Medical Marijuana probably didn’t hurt my positive attitude. The nurses and aides all commented on my outfit with a smile, saying, ‘look at you.  All fancy today.’

My friend Mike is going through Chemo and he posted a pic of him watching TV from the chemo cubical. I was bound and determined to find it. I did. Food Network was my choice.

My daughter Allie was with me, I know she thought I was extra. Telling me to talk quieter about the chefs on Food Network and she asked me , “Mom were you singing Elvis with a nurse’s aide in the back?”

“I was.”

“Okay, that’s what I thought. When the fight broke out the nurse said she was going back to the happy patient and singing Elvis again. I wondered if that was you.”

Who else. I made people smile and laugh today. That made me happy.

The positive grew. While my weight was down, so was my blood pressure … it was normal.

I saw my oncologist, sweet little thing that looks at me as if she just is trying to understand me. She was truly worried and wanted to help with the symptoms.

She knew I was concerned about adding that bone medicine and confident I could handle it. I told her ‘Fine, I got that brain surgery you guilted me into.’

Then she got the brightest smile, grabbed my hand and said, “And I am so, so happy you did that. It was the right thing to do. Now … for your severe symptoms….are you still drinking?”

“No. Yes. But micro sips and not like I was. I’m no longer a Hemingway functioning alcoholic.”

That made her pause. She said she wants to put me on a pill to take at night, three days before the bad week and all the way through. I was like, ‘wait, isn’t this a med that they prescribe as an antipsychotic?’

“Yes,” she replied. “But it’s a very low dose. A quarter of what is usually prescribed.”

“I’m a writer, I’m afraid it will mess with my brain.”

“I highly doubt it will quell any thoughts that go on in your brain.’

Meaning?….. Fine. Give the subscription.

Then she told me. She doesn’t want to lessen the dose because of symptoms. Not yet.

Why? Sharing time for all of you following.

My tumor markers went down between the first and second treatment.

Upon physical examination, my underarm lymph nodes are much smaller, the swelling in my arm has decreased drastically, and the tumor in my breast is significantly smaller.

“The cancer,” she said. “Is dying off and retreating causing the shrinkage and healing. We are on the right path, a steady trajectory to what we want to see.”

Well, hell, side effects be damned, if this is working, I’ll deal. I went into the chemo room with a renewed fight. I’m fighting this bad boy. I named my breast tumor Negan. Because  Negan will eventually get defeated.

Now, of course, they took blood today and I am worried that my markers will go back up. She said the physical tests say a lot. I’ll hold on to that and have a deep convo with God tonight about keeping this path going. If you have a little prayer list, I’d appreciate the name drop on it.

As for next treatment, I’m thinking Ace Ventura.