Camp Chemo Update #5: This is Starting to Feel Redundant

Yesterday's chemo infusion happened! This sentence is indeed worthy of that exclamation point, since I was certain that my neutrophils had dropped below 1.5. Actually, they did-- so I was surprised when Researcher S. told me that I "squeaked by this week," and that my count was at 1.2... so there seems to be some leeway, apparently. What that means for me now is that I am in the "risk of infection" zone, and that I must stay away from germy places and people (Researcher S. always mentions germy children in this warning), at least until Thursday when I have my next labs and we see if the neuts (as Cousin Kate calls them) have indeed fallen to the level of needing the booster shot. Again, that will mean delaying chemotherapy one week as I begin taking the shot that will assist the neuts.
So chemo was fine, although the Taxol again irritated the fibroid, which is highly uncomfortable in the way of cramping and was tamed as cramps often are, with an Advil procured by Nurse S., who also instructed my Chemo Buddy Kelley to distract me by chatting. This team effort was successful and much appreciated. In terms of side effects, so far so good; not feeling nauseous at all today, which is a huge relief from last weekend. I did not go on a hike (or bike) today, as John is in Minnesota getting our winter belongings from storage, but I did take the dog on a longer walk. Even my fatigue seems lower today as compared to last week (yay).

Chemo Buddy Feature: SIL Kelley!
This week's Chemo Buddy was Kelley, my wonderful sister-in-law. Kelley is a force; a ginger, a high achiever, successful career lady budget analyst number cruncher, lover of spreadsheets, runner, super baker and cook, quilter, sewer, highly fashionable, mom to my nephew M., and incredibly kind and generous host to John and me as we unexpectedly stay with her (plus D. and M.) far past our original timeline so that we have extra support during my treatment. She also is very good at raising two of the sweetest cats that I have ever encountered, Pepin and Jax.

Here we are at Camp Chemo! She has great bangs.

Pepin (orange tabby) & Jax (gray tabby)

Camp Chemo Update #4: Truly Mostly Normal

Yesterday was Chemo #4 of 16, also known as infusion #1 of Cycle 2 of 4 of Phase I, but you don't really need to keep track of all of that. What's great is that I feel great; not even "mostly normal" but actually normal (sans hair). The infusion itself was my first without any crampy discomfort at all-- a first! (That turned out to be due to a uterine fibroid and not a side effect of the chemo, if you read my last blog post)
There was another younger woman at chemo that I had not seen before (I heard her say she is 35). We are seated fairly close together in the treatment room, so I was able to derive from her conversations that she is on the exact same treatment plan and clinical trial as me (another triple negative person!), and that this was her final infusion. Her chemo buddy was her mother, and I overheard her say something to the effect of it being a breeze compared to the Phase I weekly chemos (Yessssssss!) coming every three weeks was "basically nothing," and she was not having any major reactions to the Phase II drugs of adriamycin and cytoxan.
As she finished her infusion and took happy celebratory photos with the oncology nurse (Nurse S.) before heading out, I started to tear up a bit. I was so happy for her! and she really seemed as though she was in a good mental and physical space. We had not been introduced, but I congratulated her and wished her good luck with her upcoming surgery. I will be her in the not-too-distant future-- this felt so hopeful to think about and to see IRL. Tangible. Doable.
I was also possibly a bit... not jealous, I don't feel like that is the right word, but something in that direction. I want to be done, too. Alas. One step at a time.

Chemo Buddy Feature: John!
John attended camp chemo with me yesterday. He was my first chemo buddy, and is the pinch hitter for any chemo shift (yes I have shifted these out, I am an organizer after all) unclaimed by other friends and family. He is my hero team partner and the loml. He makes me laugh. He makes me tea and vegan lunches and dinners and is ever-vigil about my water intake. Last night he made me stay up too late watching the Astros/Yankees game (in reality, I was wired from steroids so would have been up anyway). He tells me that he genuinely thinks I am hot with a shaved head, and I believe him (and then I tease him that he could use a haircut, too. Which is not untrue.). He is with me wholeheartedly in this strange time of being the most EXTRA I have ever been. While taking my vitals yesterday, I commented to Nurse S. that my heart rate had been up, and without skipping a beat she said, "Well, you are sitting next to that guy, so I am not surprised." We laughed, and then he let me take my Benadryl nap while he ran to True Food Kitchen for lunch (thank you for the gift card, Tracy!!).
John is always up for an adventure, so we are going to hike this afternoon.
I am obviously very much lucky in love and also just plain lucky. Thank you, loml.

Me, tres chic on route to Camp Chemo. 

John and me at Camp Chemo. I'm not sure this showcases his need for a haircut, but just trust me.

Selected Quote:

"Well, you are sitting next to that guy, so I am not surprised." -- Nurse S. 

One Chemo Cycle is DONE & Other Celebrations

Maybe you share my love of the to-do list, and the satisfaction that comes with crossing sh*% off of it. Today marks the official first item completed from my treatment list: that's right, Chemo Cycle 1 (of 4, of Phase I of II, don't be confused and yes there is a quiz just kidding there is not) is DONE, in the books, over! Tomorrow I start the second cycle. I am also celebrating the fact that I AM having chemo tomorrow-- my labs came back from this morning's blood work, and my neutrophils are holding! (John will be my Chemo Buddy.)
The end of each cycle also means a provider office visit, and today I met with Nurse Practitioner J. plus Researcher S. It is mostly a physical exam, they check my mass, and I get to tell them all about my experiences and side effects and ask questions.
Today I asked about fibroids, because I realized that after my CT Scan I was told that I have one, which I promptly forgot about once I heard the words "not cancer." After last weekend's discomfort, however, I spoke with my obgyn, who said my symptoms sounded like a uterine fibroid, and it all clicked! I sound excited about this because I am-- what it means is that the negative side effects I had after my chemo treatment on Friday were not due to the actual chemo itself, but instead to the fibroid. It may also be the case that the chemo exacerbates the fibroid, which is not great, but I am genuinely happy that I am tolerating the chemo well. This means the only side effects have been some fatigue and a headache here and there (okay plus hair loss).
Having a uterine fibroid is not a joyous situation, of course. In case you don't know much about it, it is a mass (not cancer! Or rarely is, and mine is not.) and often goes away on its own, but if you start experiencing noticeable symptoms (like me), you should let your obgyn know, and then they talk about different ways to get rid of it that 1) sound invasive, and 2) I cannot do in the midst of receiving chemo. Essentially, my symptoms are like PMS x 10. Or something. (If talking about menstrual blood makes you uncomfortable, you can stop reading now. #sorrynotsorry)
My symptoms actually began in early August, when I had an astonishingly heavy period. I refer to it as the Red Alert, and once I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I guessed that the two were somehow linked (hormones and such). Clearly, if you have the Red Alert, something in your body is unhappy. Then, I went on a run last week, and all was well, but the next day I started another run, and my uterus felt tender/hurty. Annoying, since I had the energy for that run. Then... Red Alert, which today's lab work confirmed, as I am a little anemic. I'll hit the spinach extra hard this week.
While at chemo, I had a strange reaction (you can read about it here), which Nurse S. said was not related to the chemo I was receiving, these were not side effects related to Taxol or Carbo; and then I was fairly crampy and Red Alerty all weekend. This was all a little frightening, since it was not making sense! This is (again) why I am glad to know that this is about the fibroid, not the chemo... anyway. I think you get the point. If you have questions, or like me, enjoy hearing about the experience of having a uterus (if you know me, you know that I do. I have birth doula experience, I have worked in abortion clinics, plus prenatal yoga teacher and other related trainings, etc.), feel free to message me offline!
If you have had the thought while reading this post that it appears that my reproductive organs are waging an all-out assault on me, you are not alone. 

Two New Hairstyles (Spoiler: One is a Wig)

The time has come for my hair to go. Well, it started going on its own, or rather from the chemo. It wasn’t noticeable to others, just to me in the shower and on my pillow, and it was actually causing me some anxiety to see it there, not in clumps or anything, but also not a normal amount of everyday hair loss... so I made a last minute appointment at the wig salon.

Wig Salon, you say? Yes. JOI Wig Salon, where you sit in a proper salon chair and various wigs are brought to you based upon your stated preference, plus your skin tone and color, your style, etc. Once you select a wig, they will style it for you, cutting it shorter or however you prefer. They will also shave your head for you, if you would like. I would like, and they did.

Things I learned + highlights from my wig-procuring experience:

• You can get a prescription from your oncologist for a "full cranial prosthesis," aka wig. Some insurances cover costs or partial costs; mine does not.
• They (JOI Wig Salon) do not sell extensions (a young woman with long blond hair stopped in to inquire).
• I found it incredibly touching when another woman, likely in her 50s, came in and shared that her friends at her work at the nearby hospital all chipped in for her wig, and that they had previously done so for two other coworkers.
• Finding “your” wig is apparently similar to buying your wedding dress-- you just “know.” (NB: While I did have a wedding dress, I did not have this moment that is so often portrayed on TV so I’m kind of tongue-in-cheek here-- I have feelings about the wedding dress experience that I am happy to share offline.)  
• You also “know” when you are ready to shave your head. My stylist did not assume that I wanted to, since my pixie cut still looked so good/intact. I asked her about it, and she said, “Oh, you want to shave it now?” She looked at my face and then continued, “You know when you know.” Then she shaved it. And I did not cry, although I did feel a little emotional and it was a distinct possibility at any given time. My stylist helped when she said, “Just think like you are GI Jane."

Here’s a pic from GI Jane. It’s from a website that tells you about her workout, in case you are interested.

• My preference for a blunt-cut bang amused my stylist. “That is how people who don’t know how to cut wig bangs cut it.” LOL (She meant no insult.)
• My stylist told me that I have a very nicely shaped head! She said that she often has to do a lot of styling with the wigs to hide imperfections.
• My entire life (literally since kindergarten), I have been aware that my head is kind of large, or at least larger than others. This idea was often reinforced by J. Crew hat sizing. However, my stylist stated that my head is not large. Hey, she’s the expert! I will take it. (John also disagreed with my self assessment, and thinks that my hair was just super thick and added a lot of extra padding.)
• She also told me that I look like a Bond girl with my chosen wig.
• My chosen wig does look similar to the way I used to wear my hair (particularly after a keratin treatment), although much thinner, although that was not necessarily what I had in mind when I walked in. It turns out I just really like my hair that way (unsurprising, as I have worn it essentially the same way since kindergarten). I did try on several, just to be sure.
• My chosen wig is similar but not exact, and that’s completely okay. It would be absurd to pretend, in my opinion. I have cancer, my hair was coming out because of the chemo, so I got a wig. I am reminded of the scene from Sex and the City where Miranda is shopping for a wedding dress while talking to Carrie on the phone and says, “The jig is up.” I have cancer. The jig is up.
• Synthetic hair wigs (the kind that I got) should not be exposed to heat, and definitely should not be worn while cooking.
• Nice wigs are kind of expensive. They can get up to like $5K, but not at the place I was at (or at least none that she showed me). Still, I spent $400.
• My second new hairstyle, my shaved head, is something I am still getting accustomed to. My feelings go a little round and round over it but always land on, “I refuse to feel ashamed that I have a bald head.” So, you may see me rocking my bald head. However;
• Having a bald head means having a chilly head! So, if I am rocking my bald head, it will likely be under my cashmere beanie. Or not, I don’t know. I am still working my way through all of this, dear reader.
• John says I look like Natalie Portman’s character in “V for Vendetta.” I’ll take it.

This was probably a picture from a premiere for the movie; definitely not *from* the movie. I got it from this website. 

My bald head will be featured at another time, when I am not as exhausted. What? I'm vain. 

And so with newly shorn hair and a Bond girl wig, I begin the next chapter in my cancer adventure.

Selected quote:

“That is how people who don’t know how to cut wig bangs cut it.” -- My wig stylist

Camp Chemo Update #3: Third Time is Not Necessarily a Charm

Yesterday was my third chemo infusion. It was a little unfriendly to me, as I had a brief reaction to the Taxol, and we had to stop it for a few minutes before doing a slow ramp back up. My face had suddenly gotten very hot, and Chemo Buddy Lisa said it looked bright red. My chest felt like something was sitting on it, and I felt a little panicky. Nurse S. quickly came over to stop the infusion and sit with me as it subsided. Eh. Life of chemo.

I also had them add a flu shot for me. This, plus not getting enough to eat before going to chemo, was not the smartest of choices, I fully admit (I had a cereal bar and some trail mix... 😳  ).
Yes, I know better than that, and no, I will not do it again. After chemo, Lisa and I got some lunch at District Dumpling, which is delicious, but I made another mistake by getting the fried version. Your food matters, let me tell you. Lisa then drove me home, and as the night wore on I felt increasingly uncomfortable and dehydrated. My stomach ached, my hips(?) ached, to the point of not being able to concentrate on the show I was watching (Orphan Black, now that I have finished The Americans Season 5). Finally I gave in and got physically ill, which finally turned the whole unpleasant ordeal around after about two hours of the unpleasantness. I took some anti-nausea meds, drank some water, and crashed before 8:00 pm.

So apparently cancer is not all bikes and hikes, dear reader. That's okay.

In fact, I had been having semi-crazy thoughts such as, "This is going so well. Is it even working?!" A former colleague of mine who has been through it before said, "You are allowed to look and feel great. Just keep kicking ass!" And that really helped, you know? I had not thought I was actually feeling guilty about feeling so good, but there's a trace of that, sure. So now that I had a moment, does that mean I'm a "real" cancer patient? (Rhetorical questions, no need to respond.)

Today is much, much better. Aches and nausea are totally gone. I will take Toby the dog for a walk and check my energy for a run or something later. John and my BIL, D., are biking the first day of the MS150 in Pennsylvania today. I woke up early (that happens when you are asleep by 8:00pm) so I got to see them head out, and John made me a bowl of oatmeal ("Perfect consistency," he said as he proudly showed me the oats on a spoon... he has high oat cooking standards. It shouldn't surprise you, if you know him). Sorry that I do not have a pic of that. I do, however, have a lovely photo of Chemo Buddy Lisa and me from yesterday's infusion (where she lovingly and mercilessly laughed at me as the Benadryl set in).

Chemo Buddy Feature: Lisa! 
Lisa and I met while working at the NEA, so that means we have nine years of friendship under our belt. When I told Lisa that I have cancer, she immediately said, "WE are going to get through this." Meaning she will be right there with me. Which is an incredible thing to hear.
The next time I saw her, about a week or so later for dinner, she came armed with a giant gift bag filled to the brim with a comfy and stylish tunic (Lisa is known for her chic style), socks, an entire Sephora store's worth of hydrating facial masks, and a great book called Pretty Sick: The Beauty Guide for Women with Cancer by Caitlin M. Kiernan. I love beauty products (I am a proud Sephora Rouge member) and this book was very informative about what to consider purchasing and she offers up several suggestions at different price points, and also has a lot of great advice from some of her famous friends who have had cancer. (TL;DR The name of the game is to moisturize). If you know someone else who has cancer, this could be a great gift, and you can order it here.

Lisa is an incredible woman and I am lucky to count her as one of my BFFs.

Lisa and I brought our pixie-cut chic fabulousness yesterday. 

Here's the book!

I am the Neutrophil Queen (& WTH is Immunotherapy Anyway)

This week's labs (CBC, or complete Blood Count) report came back from this morning's blood draw, and my neutrophil count actually increased! I am up to a 1.89 from a 1.68. This is surprising because the chemo drugs that I am taking (Taxol and Carbo) are supposed to guarantee a drop in neutrophils (which are a type-- one of four-- of white blood cell, and help prevent infection. Infection is not a good thing for me.). Since the chemo wipes cells out indiscriminately, bad or good, because it cannot differentiate between them, it is expected that they will inevitably drop. [I am not a medical professional and so I know I am likely missing important details but hopefully am catching the gist... please bear with me if you are more knowledgable than I am.]

Since my counts are still above 1.5, chemo tomorrow is a go. If they had dropped, I would have had my chemo pushed back a week and would have instead started a neutrophil booster. If you read my earlier post about this, a possible side effect from the booster is bone pain (or ache). Luckily, since I do not have to have the booster this week, that means one less booster overall during the course of my treatment. It is, however, inevitable that I will have the neutrophil booster. It's okay. It's going to be all right.

Since I am going to have chemo tomorrow, and it will be the third week, that means I will also receive immunotherapy (pembro or Keytruda) or the saline solution placebo, as part of the clinical therapy trial I am participating in. Here is a review of immunotherapy and my trial:
It is a 2 to 1 chance that I am receiving immunotherapy. My trial is in Phase 3, which means it has had positive results in its first two phases. My non-medical explanation of immunotherapy is as follows: immunotherapy is some of the most groundbreaking research in cancer treatment in recent history, and is blowing researchers and the medical community away with its results. It works with the body's immune system to identify, target, and kill cancer cells. My immunotherapy is the type that works with the immune checkpoint inhibitors, and has already been approved for other cancers such as melanoma (and a few others). Former President Jimmy Carter reportedly was treated by the immunotherapy that I might be receiving. The really kickass thing for me is that while Triple Negative Breast Cancer makes it so that there are some types of treatments (namely, hormonal) that do not work for me, immunotherapy puts a big one back on the table.

Here is more about immunotherapy if you are interested.

Thank You, Labor Family

I have been writing this post in my head for about two weeks now, and just need to get it out there. I am afraid to do it wrong, which would mean to not do it justice, so I keep stalling. You just cannot thank people enough sometimes, simply cannot properly show the magnitude of your gratitude. Here’s a shot at it though.

I have mentioned before that John and I have been hearing from people across the country who are rallying for us. What I have not yet fully articulated is just how incredible our labor family has been.

Together, John and I have about 17 19 years of professional experience working for labor unions. I began working for the AFL-CIO political department in 2006, and went over to the National Education Association (NEA) campaigns and elections department in 2008. John has been with AFSCME (local & international) for about a decade. I frequently joke that I am married to AFSCME. I have known some of these folks for even longer, going back to my Dean for America days.

The people with whom we have worked with for most of our careers are our family, our friends, our brothers, and our sisters. Former bosses, colleagues, and coworkers from all three unions have been steadily reaching out to cheer us on and provide support.

Several former colleagues from the AFL-CIO are in touch about various things like wig resources (E.), chemo buddy times, lunches, and even doorknocking for the VA elections (I have been feeling so well, there’s really no excuse).

Thank you to my NEA colleagues and friends and BFFs; I am so lucky to count you on my side-- one of whom will literally be by my side tomorrow as my Chemo Buddy (L.), and who has also supplied me with one of the best cancer beauty books (Pretty Sick) plus a gift basket overflowing with Sephora hydrating facial masks and other comfort items. Thank you to K. for a very special lunch and discussion, and for all of your help, and for each of you who have been in touch. Thank you to all of you for your messages of support, strength, and love.

Thank You to Our AFSCME Family

A couple of weeks ago, the AFSCME (and some former NEA!) family organized (because that’s what we do) around John and me in a big way when they handed him a card bursting with what he calls “a brick” of Whole Foods gift cards-- and a very generous gift of cash (that literally keeps coming in-- we will thank each of you offline asap!). Blogging is all about vulnerability, so I will just tell you that we have teared up a number of times over these incredible collective and individual gifts. Thank you, AFSCME family. We have been overwhelmed by your love and support.

You have all allowed us some major relief during a stressful time when we have medical bills (super awesome insurance, but much of those tests are still expensive and there is still an out-of-pocket amount due-- again, cannot imagine not having this and if you are in support of repealing ACA then we need to have a serious talk), and the (temporary) setback for my job search. We have been able to purchase healthy foods (I’m recommitting to a mostly-vegetarian diet) and also to contribute to the family grocery runs with my in-laws. We haven’t blown through it all yet, it’s not like we bought a Wagyu steak or anything and a fancy bottle of wine, I promise. (But really, we did not.)

To some degree, it is somewhat embarrassing to be on the receiving end of all of this love and giving. This is the vulnerability that cancer is necessarily exposing, I suppose. One of those “hard lessons that cancer taught me, I can’t do it all on my own,” or whatever. It’s okay, I’ll lean into the discomfort. That’s where the growth is.

As I wrote in my original blog post, I will get through this successfully with love, humor, a mostly plant-based diet plus a ton of prescribed drugs, and with the amazing people supporting me. Thanks for being one of them. I love you. I will beat this.

Daily Dance Party Jams

I have begun incorporating a daily dance party into my life routine. It typically occurs in the morning, post lemon-water and green tea ritual and email/news roundup. It consists of just one song in which I dance my ass off-- I am fully aware that it is super ridiculous and I love it. The pets find it intriguing and perhaps a bit frightening. Sometimes people join me, if they are around (so far this has been John and Cousin Kate).

I recently watched the Lady Gaga documentary on Netflix, so my songs have been pretty much exclusive to her body of work. I also keep a record of them in my Symptoms Notebook, a small moleskin where I record everything about me on the daily, like temperature, food, and of course, symptoms).

This past week's song list: 
Monday-- Lady Gaga, Let's Dance
Tuesday-- Lady Gaga, Bad Romance
Wednesday-- I missed it, because I was getting ready for my photo shoot (seriously) that friend K. gifted to me. More on this later!
Thursday-- Robyn, Fembot
Friday-- Lady Gaga, PokerFace

What songs would you recommend for Dance Party? 

Camp Chemo Update #2: Cousin Kate is here!

The second day of chemo infusion (2 of 16) is in the books! Thank you to all of the wonderful and amazing friends who have reached out to see how it went and sent well-wishes via card, text, Snapchat, FB, email, and incredible gifts (scroll to bottom to see my new turtle chum from my friend M.).

My Day-to-Day
I have been enjoying the ease of these first two infusions as much as possible with bike rides, yoga, frequent walks with Toby the dog, daily dance party (this is the best and recommend everyone incorporate this into your morning life routine), plus just being awake and not needing to take naps. Don't worry,  I am getting the appropriate amount of rest and Netflix-watching in, I promise. Now that I have a treatment schedule, I am still trying to figure out what my day-to-day looks like.
As mentioned in my first post, I am in the middle of a job search, but have changed direction a bit to focus on more project/contract jobs. After December, it changes to once every three weeks, and I'll stop turning down amazing interview opportunities (this is a very frustrating aspect to all of this for me). Anyway, my point is that I am now shaping what my day-to-day looks like. I will likely write more about this in a future post.

Chemo Buddy Feature: Cousin Kate!
My cousin Kate arrived Thursday night from Ohio to join me for chemo as my Chemo Buddy, and for the beautiful Fall weekend. She brought me a batch of delicious vegetable soup for the freezer! Food is love, my dear reader. We both decided that I have joined the Welte Women ranks with my short brown hair (hi, Letha and Beth!). Kate and I have a history of fun adventures, such as hiking/scrambling up rock walls outside of Squamish, British Columbia (see my FB cover photo); driving across the country for big moves, such as when she left Washington state for Louisiana last year; and plenty of camping in various state and national parks around the country. Today our adventure is, of course, Camp Chemo.

Cousin Kate & me, glamming it up at Camp Chemo! 

Here is a comically bad pic of the two of us + her dog Reese, during her cross-country move of 2016.

Kate was able to hang with me while I got hooked up to the IV (ha!) via Power Port, got my "pre-meds" cocktail of Benadryl, steroids, and whatever, then an hour of Taxol and a half hour of Carbo and then out of there! It takes about 2.5-3 hours. The added benefit of joining me as a Chemo Buddy is witnessing how loopy I get from the Benadryl. (I also refer to my IV as my buddy, as she goes with me if I get up to walk around.) My eyes droop and eventually I rest them for a few minutes. Riveting, to be sure. 

Labs Report & Bone Pain

I also had a chat with Researcher S. about my labs report, which ultimately looks great. She let me know that she is most closely watching my hemoglobin levels (have dropped a little, but not alarming), platelets (have not dropped much at all), and neutrophils (with the chemo I am taking, it is a given that these will drop). 

Neutrophils help fight infection, so if you are low on them you are more at risk, which is not ideal for people on a chemo regiment. Here is more info about neutrophils if you are interested. I will be referencing them in the future, I am sure. My level is currently 1.68, and once it goes below 1.5 I will need to take a "booster" which is a really deceptive way of saying that I will have to take a regiment from now through the end of my phase I of chemo (through mid-December) of subcutaneous shots that I personally administer of something that may (likely) bring about a bit of bone pain. BONE PAIN. BONE. PAIN. So here is where we all say together, "Everyone responds differently, so let's just be cool and see how it goes." I'm cool. You cool?  

(Note: Nurse S. further explained that the 1.5 number is for the study requirement, but the "normal" number for concern isn't until a 1 is reached, so at least that's something in terms of fear of infection.) 

Healthy Food & Exercise

The rest of the day was about eating healthy food (just kidding, John came home and ordered pizza while he watched baseball playoffs... I am 80/20 on my food, meaning I am fine going off course some of the time. I had a half of cheese pizza. To be honest, it wasn't that great.). It's okay because I had a lunch of organic kale (I do love kale, sorry haters) and sweet potatoes with a TBT (tempeh-bacon and tomato) sandwich, courtesy of True Food Kitchen. 

Today, Kate and I are heading out to the woods for a hike. Exercise is important, and I love it, but let me tell you that once I get busy (pre-cancer life) with work, grad school, campaigns, etc., it is the very first thing I chuck. Well, no more of that sh#$, dear reader, because research says that regular exercise will reduce recurrence of breast cancer significantly (percentages vary). The research seems to point to better outcomes for those with hormone receptor-positive tumors, which I am not, but logic lends itself to the idea that it would still be incredibly beneficial to us TNBC-ers. 

From Cancer.gov:

Consistent evidence from epidemiologic studies links physical activity after diagnosis with better breast cancer outcomes (35, 36). For example, a large cohort study found that women who exercised moderately (the equivalent of walking 3 to 5 hours per week at an average pace) after a breast cancer diagnosis had approximately 40% to 50% lower risks of breast cancer recurrence, death from breast cancer, and death from any cause compared with more sedentary women (37). The potential physical activity benefit with regard to death from breast cancer was most apparent in women with hormone receptor–positive tumors (37).

Another prospective cohort study found that women who had breast cancer and who engaged in recreational physical activity roughly equivalent to walking at an average pace of 2 to 2.9 mph for 1 hour per week had a 35% to 49% lower risk of death from breast cancer compared with women who engaged in less physical activity (38).

So yeah, I am no longer sacrificing exercise. Get it! 

My new turtle buddy, from my friend M. He is nestled atop a beautiful and so-soft poncho that she also sent. Love you, M.! 

Selected quote:

"You asked for laughs... so I just called the form of breast cancer you have triple x instead of triple negative." -- J.