Today, I went for my 6th Kadcyla infusion. 8 to go. After getting my port flushed and hooked up, the nurse took me to a room where I would see my oncologist before going in for the infusion. (By they way, I hope there is some wonderful soul out there finding a way to flavor whatever they use to flush a port. I think it’s a saline rinse? I mean, gag! Absolutely terrible. My secret? Hold my breath and look away. The nurse invariably asks, “Sweetie, are you okay?” I shake my head silently, usually give a thumbs up, because after all, I’m holding my breath and not talking. Then, once I’m convinced the taste is gone or turning blue, which ever comes first, I breathe again. That’s my working method until they come up with a chardonnay flavored rinse!) My oncologist came in and sat down on a nearby swivel stool. We started chatting about how I’m tolerating the treatment. Thankfully, it’s going oaky so far. He said something to the effect of, “so, you think we can do this?” “Absolut...
Written by a Georgia peach. Not literally, but if you don't get that analogy, this may not be the place for you. Kidding. So glad you are here! Specifically excited to encourage and champion young women fighting breast cancer as I share my experience as breast cancer survivor diagnoses at the age of 32.