Tag: herceptin

Making it Work > herceptin

What’s Done is DONE!!

Posted on January 19, 2019 by pioneerintrees

These days I’m thinking about being DONE and what it means for me to be DONE (yell a bit when I put done in caps, ok?).

I’ll break it down a bit for you. In the next two weeks I have:

a meeting with my surgeon
my final Herceptin treatment
my portacath removed

Each of these appointments represent a different kind of DONE (nice job) and a bit WOOT WOOT (emphasis here too, please, maybe twist your wrists in a circle).

Surgeon Visit

First of all, surgeon man is very charming WOOT WOOT, so I like to visit him, and this will be my last visit with him. Nuff said about that. Secondly, I’m planning to talk to him about plastic surgery and the hypothetical referral that I was given by someone that I cannot recall right now (I think it was he the surgeon, but could have been my family doc). Bottom line is since I don’t know who said they’d refer me, or who they said they’d refer me to, I haven’t been able to follow up, and therefore I don’t know where I’m at with the referral. This is my life. Just ask my secretarial staff.

I digress. Why do I want a referral? Two reasons:

My chest wall looks like sand dunes. I don’t need breasts, but I’d prefer tabla rasa rather than a Dali-esque distorted chest wall. Who cares, you might ask? Well, I care. When I wear clothes that cling I don’t care that I’m “flat chested / non-breasted” (the name of my imaginary post-retirement company that sells bathing suits with no cups). But I don’t want clinging tops that show the deep tracts of my scars. That just looks wrong. Troughs across my chest are not a great look.
I want to have some tatoo work done on my chest WOOT WOOT and I’m thinking that the “memories of boob” bumps could impact the design options. (But what do I know about the effects of bumps on tatoos…)

So ya, I want to see a plastic surgeon. Can she (yes, she’s a she, I remember that much), … can she do something easy to flatten me out? What about the one deep sink hole? That thing is just going to look worse as the years pass, I can tell you that.

*Belly button #2 and portacath bump in upper right. Vogue material right here.*

You can see why the surgeon appointment is an important DONE for me – because it’s a done with a twist. Done with him, and on to surgeon #2. WOOT WOOT!

Final Treatment

This one is a clear DONE. My treatment regimen was 12 chemo treatments (in a row, so once/week for 12 weeks) and 18 Herceptin treatments (once every 3 weeks for a year). I had to miss one Herceptin treatment because of the heart attack, so that’s why I’m finishing 3 weeks later than prescribed. No biggie.

I’ve been counting down the treatments since the summer, each time taking the nurses the same number of treats as treatments that I have left. So it’s become a bit of a “thing” for me. I started with 13 dipped oreos, then 12 muffins …

I really love the nurses in the chemo suite – they’re all so welcoming, positive, gentle, nice… (even the one who I had some reservations about once – I’ve kept my eye on her). Because of the nurses, the chemo suite becomes a safe place to be when you’re in treatment. People are in various stages of feeling shitty, and the nurses treat their patients like family. It’s a nice, calm place to be, and I actually enjoy going. I know that sounds whack, but it’s true. Warm blankets, understanding and a couple of cookies go a long way.

I can’t say that I’ll actually miss going, but it does feel kind of like the end of summer camp. I have to say goodbye. To make it easier, and to thank them for getting me through it, my good friend Annie is coming with me and bringing a whole bunch of her gorgeous charms that she makes out of recycled glass. I’m going to have each nurse choose a charm for her necklace or bracelet. I’m excited to say thank you that way. I think they’ll love Annie’s work. WOOT WOOT!

Truly though, I won’t feel truly DONE till …

Portacath Removal

I get this sucker out one week after my last treatment. Take a look at this video – it gives me video envy! I have no idea how that woman got permission to video the removal of her portacath, but I’m seriously jealous!! It’s so cool to be able to see what’s being done to you.

Having the portacath has been a huge asset. It has been so easy for the nurses to deliver chemo and Herceptin. I have seen some of the other patients’ struggles with collapsed veins, and I’ve felt so grateful for my port. It was also super handy when I had morphine injected straight to my heart while I was passing that GD kidney stone! The relief was literally INSTANT (jazz hands here).

Many people will tell you that cancer is a “journey”. It’s true, it is. My journey is almost DONE. It’s about fucking time.

Test Me Again Already

Posted on September 11, 2018September 12, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Here is diagnostic imaging. More times than not there is no one sitting at the desk. Thus the bell. I cannot figure that out. I mean, why not sit at the desk? Why sit behind the door and wait for someone to ring a bell? Strange. But I digress.

Why Here?

This is the area where I get my MUGA scan done. This is my 4th MUGA. And I’ve had other tests done in diagnostic imaging too – I had my port put in here. Had a couple of CT scans of my carotid and renal arteries after the heart attack. An MRI after the initial breast biopsy to help them determine how much of my boobs they’d chop off. An angiogram to figure out why I had the heart attack. That’s all I think. (You could also have a bone density tests, x-ray, ultrasound – oops had one of those when I was passing a kidney stone. Forgot about that one. But there are a lot more tests there and I am not having them.)

This is the volunteer guy who walks people to the correct room. Why? Because it’s a freaking labyrinth. (You’ll note he’s walking away from me. I know my way.)

*All volunteers wear green vests. Very fashion forward.*

The MUGA

First of all the guy who does the test is not a nurse. He’s a nuclear medicine technologist and he is one of my favs at PRHC (other than you Jen). He is super friendly and reminds me of Brent Butt. Spitting image. But all business and not very funny. Ok not funny at all.

MUGA stands for multiple gated acquisition. (Huh? Don’t worry about it. Keep reading and you might see that there are some gates. Or you might not.) Getting the MUGA is a three-step process. You get the first injection (needle) in a little office.

*Needles don’t hurt. It’s all in your mind.*

The stuff in the first injection is a tracer. It essentially helps the radioactive stuff in the second injection stick to your red blood cells. You have to wait 15 minutes after the first injection, then Brent will come and take you to the machine where you get your second injection. (You’re not allowed to take pictures of all this stuff so my photography had to be done skillfully and without Brent noticing. Heh heh.)

Setting up for the Test

The second injection happens JUST before the test and that is done in a big expensive machine called a gamma camera. There are 2 at the PRHC.

*See? Totally looks like Brent. I mean … look at the machine.*

The remainder of the MUGA prep happens on the very narrow but relatively comfy million dollar bed:

2 sticky electrodes are put on my chest and 1 on my side (clothing choices matter, people!)
3 leads (long wires) are hooked up to the pads (to measure the heartbeats)
Brent gives me the 2nd needle, this one full of radionuclide with a half life of 6 hours (honestly the radioactive stuff is set up on a little table in such as way that you feel like you’re in the Princess Bride and about to be stretched or given a secret potion)
I have to put my left hand under my head and my right hand under my butt which feels comfy for the first minute or two
BRENT covers me with a blanket (not warmed – meh) and the bed slides into the big camera
the plates lower over me until its about 5cm away from my chest
the lights dim and I am instructed to lay still and not to fall asleep (slows your heart)
I lay there for 10 min listening to 80s music and trying not to swallow, sneeze, move or think about the fact that my left shoulder is slowly popping out of my skeleton
the room is cold because the machines give off a lot of heat … I’m thankful for the blanket and for the triangle wedge under my knees – I think about how nice that would be when you lay in savasana …anything to avoid thinking about the searing pain in my left shoulder
finally get to reposition after 10 min – now both hands have to go under the butt
lay still for 10 more minutes and chill out to Genesis and Glass Tiger

Why do I even have this test?

Brent explains that the scan itself is essentially a movie of the heart beating. They are measuring the strength of the muscle as well as the “ejection fraction” or the rate at which the heart is pumping the blood out. If the scores drop then my oncologist re-evaluates my treatment because one of the major side effects of Herceptin, the treatment I’m getting for my HER-2 positive breast cancer, is that it can be pretty hard on the heart. (But the heart attack was TOTALLY UNRELATED.)

Ta ta to Brent – I’ll see him in another 9 weeks for MUGA #5.

Moving Forward #asonedoes

Posted on May 15, 2018May 15, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Just to look back one more time … I present to you, my timeline of wtf.

The first bit:

Sept 14 2017 – routine mammogram #squished
Sept 21 – mag view mammogram (to get a better look, ya know?) #surewhynot
Oct 6 – biopsy #holyshitthatsawkward
Oct 19 – family doc reads results – CANCER. No biggie, I figure. I can deal. #cancerwtfareyoukiddingme
Oct 24 – surgeon appt – omg so HOT. phew. #silverlining #thereisagod
Oct 31 – MRI – met mr. lorazepam – weeeeee #notanaddict
Nov 17 – surgery – bi-lateral mastectomy – 53 staples, 2 drains and ms. oxy – weeeeee #thatsgoodshit #ihavesomeleft
Nov 23 – drains out – NASTY NASTY #justtrytorelax #didntpunchherout
Nov 27 – staples out – omg noooooooo – #breathebreathenamaste
Dec 7 – hot surgeon reads path reports – lymph nodes negative YAHOOOOO but not so fast he says, you’ll hear from an onc soon… #soonmeansnothing #merrychristmas

The Next Bit:

Dec 29 – fast talking, eye rolling oncologist explains treatment plan #shedidntbreathe #wedrovetothedirtyshwaforthis
Jan 4, 2018 – MUGA scan (heart test) #meh
Jan 9 – portacath insertion – FASCINATING #heyicanfeelthat
Jan 10 – first chemo #icandothis #circlebackwiththosecookieswouldya
weeks and weeks and weeks of awesome friends visiting and sending me shit, and me doing my damnedest to mitigate some rather nasty side effects #loveyoupeople #chemosucks
March 6 – Jenny shaved my head! #liberated #peoplelookbetterwithhair
March 14 – 10% reduction of chemo due to neuropathy development in hands & feet – I start freezing my extremities with ice – people stare #shutupimbeingproactive
March 28 – last chemo WOOT WOOT – feel like shit, but so happy it will be downhill from here – EXHAUSTED #imisswinesomuch

The last bit:

April 15 – heart attack WTF?? (It really does feel like your chest is in a vice. And it’s hard to breathe. NASTY NASTY) #shouldhavecalledanambulance #itwasnttheavocado
April 17 – angiogram to confirm SCAD “Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection” – it’s a thing #lookitup
April 24 – meet with stern oncologist who I notice thinks with her eyes shut – no Herceptin for me until she talks to my cardiologist (ya, well, I don’t have one… OMG REALLY?) #idontwanttorestanymore #fuckoff
May 6 – Hike for Hospice (in a wheelchair, but I did it!) – My team raised over $11,000 WOOT WOOT – I love my peeps #fundraisingwin #dontaskmetodothisnextyear

Ok what? Unplanned meets planned. Did it all.

The final straw bit:

May 7 – @ 2 am I start passing a kidney stone – think I’m dying – mr. morphine saved my ass – SWEEEEEET – CAT scan confirmed it #thankspaulforholdingmypukecontainer
May 10 – cardiac ultrasound – technician is no nonsense – asked her to ultrasound my boob bumps – NOT IMPRESSED WITH ME #omgsofunnyinmyhead
May 11 – kidney stone expelled – the mother fucker had two sharp points #shouldibronzeit
May 15 – met with oncologist who actually smiled (maybe she thinks I deserve ONE smile) – clears me for treatment and agrees to send my kidney stone off for analysis #inquiringmindswanttoknow #heyyoudidsomethingnice
May 16 (tomorrow)- Herceptin resumes (this is my 6th treatment) – have to have a loading dose again because it’s been 6 weeks since my last treatment (double the amount and a 1 hour observation period CRAPPY but I like the chemo suite … free cookies, ya know?) #petitioningfororeos

So the breast removal is done, the chemo is done, the heart attack is done, the kidney stone is done. All I have left is my targeted therapy, Herceptin. I continue to get it every 3 weeks till I have had a total of 18 treatments. In order to make it fun I have decided to take the remaining number of treats to the nurses. 12 tomorrow – a dozen of blueberrry muffins, me thinks (last time it was 13 chocolate dipped oreos! NOM NOM). #gottamakeyourownfun

The only other thing is, well, recovery. I somehow keep forgetting that I’m actually IN recovery. Both from the chemo and now the heart attack. So ya, being slow and tired is the new normal and being patient with it all is also pretty new. #workingonit

Thanks for all of the lovingkindness. Strength in numbers, I say! #peaceout

Recovery Looks Like a Y

Posted on April 12, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Well, this is my first “week off” from treatment since January (over 3 months ago). When Shelley sent this text on Wednesday morning I panicked a little bit at first …

text from Shelley — *I just love Shelley cookies!! Hoping for the PB and m&m ones …*

I’m DONE chemo (all 12 weeks of it)!! I still am in treatment (it’s not over till it’s over) since I continue with Trastuzumab every 3 weeks until January 2019 (brand name is Herceptin). But Trastuzumab is no where near as toxic as the chemo. I can function with it. I wrote about it in an earlier post so I won’t bore you, but as a quick recap, Trastuzumab – ok, let’s just call it Herceptin from here on in – is a targeted therapy (not like chemo that annihilates every growing cell). It’s an antibody that blocks the protein that causes HER-2 positive cancer cells to grow. A revolutionary discovery. The guys who discovered are total heroes – they were unwavering in their beliefs that there were cancer cells that overproduced certain proteins – but they couldn’t get the finances and research support to prove it. Before Herceptin was discovered, this type of HER-2 positive cancer essentially killed women … and fast. Women had a very low chance of survival. This drug changed everything. Dennis Slamon and Axel Ullrich. Thank you. And thank you to the goddess at Revlon who was diagnosed with breast cancer, heard about these two and proceeded convince Revlon to fund their research to the tune of 13 million.

diagram — *How is this helpful?? Seriously don’t understand it.*

The one rather nasty part of this very positive story is that Herceptin causes heart damage. I have to have a MUGA scan every 3 months to be sure that my heart function is not being compromised. And I have to watch for signs of cardiac distress. Like passing out.

What Happens in Recovery?

Basically, I have to heal from the effects of the toxic sludge that was poured into my body. I also need to heal the tissues and muscles on my chest, expand the range of motion. That kind of thing. And at the same time I need to keep my heart strong so that it has a better chance of not being negatively affected by the Herceptin. Sounds like a walk in the park. (That’s May 6th folks… in case you forgot!)

What’s Happening So Far?

On the outside I def look like a cancer ~~victim~~ patient. I’m bald, pasty, have minimal eyebrows. On the inside I’m fucking tired! My nasal passages still bleed and crust up. But I’m feeling better. I don’t notice a change every day – not that kind of thing. I just notice that:

my guts don’t hurt
I can eat tomatoes now (spicy stuff still burns, sadly …)
I don’t have mouth sores
I don’t have to take Senekot to poop

How am I Facilitating my Recovery?

Well I am tired a lot so I try to rest. L. M. A. O. Ya so, I’m not just sitting around waiting to get better. None of that shit. I want to be better NOW! Lucky for me, my cousin Cheri is a prof in the Kinesiology Dept at the U of Windsor who is researching the relationship between recovery from cancer and exercise. (Yep. That’s my cousin! Doing it all for me! LOL) She was very quick to tell me that research clearly indicates that exercise offsets some of the detrimental cardiac and vascular effects of Herceptin (yes – the biggest side effect is a weakening of the heart). Here’s a great quote she sent me:

“Most impressive of all, moderate to vigorous intensity progressive exercise training prevents recurrence and death from breast and colon cancer. The overriding message, is that exercise training is beneficial.” – American College of Sports Medicine 2016.

Ya. So that means I HAVE TO EXERCISE! (oh, and I love it soooooo much…)

Here are the guidelines that she has sent me (a combo of suggestions from Cancer Care Ontario and the American College of Sports Medicine):

aerobic exercise (aka cardio):
- 150 minutes of accumulated moderate intensity aerobic exercise (seems reasonable till you figure that 150 min is more than 2 hours … just sayin’)
- using large muscle groups
- spread over 3 to 5 days / week (so that’s 30 – 50 min of cardio at a time … gak)
- I can be biking, walking, swimming … as long as I have a noticeable increase in breathing and sweating while still being able to talk. No gasping or falling over either.
resistance (aka weights):
- 2x / week (that’s feeling more reasonable)
- 8 – 10 muscle groups (8?? 10?? what?? I’m good with biceps, triceps, shoulders, back, chest. That’s 5. Oh dear.)
- 8 – 10 reps, 2 sets (simple. It’s the number of muscles that’s the problem.
- can use free weights, weight machines, isokinetic machines (ummmmm whaaa?), resistance bands, circuit training (no thanks if this involves me pushing someone sitting on bench or something daft like that), functional exercises (like splitting wood??)
- if combined with aerobic session, I can scale back on my aerobic exercise (20 min max) HALLELUJAH. Must. Do. Weights.
flexibility (aka Yoga):
- 3x / week
- 20 seconds / stretch, 2 – 4 reps / stretch
- static stretches of hips, knees, shoulders and neck
- This is TOTALLY manageable. I can watch Netflix and stretch like a pro.

Do I want to do this? No. Do I have to do this? Yes. So, motivated by my fitnfreakinfabuless friend Kate, I started my exercise regime 6 days after my final chemo. Lemme tell ya, I’m no spring chicken, but I can still kick some exercise butt! For example, today I did a 1 hour Hatha Yoga class at the Y (just slight tenderness here and there), yesterday 30 min on the treadmill with about 1 minute of RUNNING (and I nearly collapsed trying to push the arrow down button), the day before 40 lengths of the pool (aka 1,000 metres). I love the feeling of the water on my bald head by the way. Very cool perk to baldness.

Sadly, part of the chemo aftermath is the feeling of exhaustion. Which I hate. But it’s still there even with the hating. Go figure. So the trick is to do this exercise stuff in the morning since I have very little energy by 2 pm.

See you at the Y!

Toxic

Posted on January 13, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Chemotherapy medicines are toxic. So therefore, when you’re receiving chemotherapy, anything that leaves your body is toxic. You have to be careful where it goes and who comes in contact with it.

Naturally there are some basic safeguards – some that make tons of sense, some that are perhaps a bit surprising. Here’s the basic list:

1. Pee

You may not think that this is a big deal. Just flush it down and Bob’s your uncle (I know, he IS!). There are actually rules to the flushing. First one is to sit. Not a problem for me, as I always do. But dudes have to sit to pee. Not that that has anything to do with me, but I tought it was notable. Secondly, put the lid down before you flush. Who does that? Last, and the most disturbing to me, double flush!

This may not seem upsetting to anyone … but I’m an environmentalist. Having grown up at a cottage, I’m already conditioned to NOT flush unless it’s very very yellow & stinky or brown. (Note: At home I do flush after I pee (promise), but I flush once.) So I find this to go against my principles. (I can tell you this, though, if I’m peeing during the time that I am receiving treatment at the cancer suite, you can bet I’ll be flushing twice! People track you with their eyes and likely listen for the double flush.)

The other thing about pee is that when you’re female of a certain age, it tends to be less able to stay in it’s correct location when coughing or sneezing or laughing or jumping on the trampoline.

I have been told that each time any pee gets on me I have to wash thoroughly (probably twice since that seems to be the norm) and if it gets on my clothing or sheets I have to wash them TWICE. Separate from other items. Geez. This seems like a lot of work. (Am I going to be wearing Depends?)

2. Sweat

I told the nurse that I don’t sweat. She raised her eyebrows as if to say “reeeeaally” or “you don’t sweat YET”. She then asked about hot flashes and night sweats. Hmm, well, I don’t sweat much …. ok, I’ll wash my sheets more often. Fine. (But I’m not washing them twice.)

3. Vomit

I’m hoping I don’t have any issues in this department, but if I do, I have to follow the same rules as above – two flushes two washes. Of anything it touches. (I think I’m in denial on this one, but I’m not a puker.)

4. Stool

Who says stool?? It’s POOP, people!! I don’t think this will be a problem at all, since I haven’t generated very much since my 1st treatment. I know. It’s not a good thing. I’m on it …

poop inducers — *Pear juice, herbal tea, bran muffins and a supportive mug. Bam!*

5. Vaginal Fluid

Hold the bus. What? Yep – it’s toxic. So sex must involve covering it all up. Uh huh. A condom… and for other activities enjoyed by women, a dental dam. Ya, that’s not happening.

What’s not on the list:

I asked the nurse why saliva is not on the list. I am going to try to reiterate what she said, but it didn’t make any sense to me so I’m not going to sound convincing. It’s ok because it is less likely to come in contact with someone. Um … what if I cough? Not enough. Or spit on someone? Funny look. What about kissing? Not enough. (Ok that woman must be a dry kisser.) I let it go.

Some of the Additional Rules:

Anyone who deals with my “body fluids” has to (obviously wash it off their body asap, twice?), wear gloves and be given a medal.
Any “body fluids” needing to be cleaned up are collected with paper towel that is then sealed in a plastic bag and put in the garbage – which is then sealed. (Of course I’m wondering what will happen if I toss it in the fire instead …)
If any of my “body fluids” get into my eyes or someone else’s eyes (ok … what??), the eyes must be flushed 2 or 3 times. Hard to get that image out of my mind. Projectile vomit?

Good times, people, good times.

And yes, you can visit me. Just stand back a safe distance. I’m toxic.

In the Brown Recliner

Posted on January 10, 2018January 10, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Prior to this cancer journey I didn’t pay any mind to the recliner chair. I began to see the light a few days back when I had my information session with a Cancer Centre nurse. Her job was to be sure I understood about the chemotherapy, the side effects, and the procedures at the Centre, but she actually helped me to understand the power of the recliner. Specifically the brown recliner.

What I found out:

– The name of the place that I get my chemo is called “the suite”.
– The chairs for patients are all recliners.
– The brown chairs have a massage feature in them.
– It is chilly in the suite. Blankets are recommended.
– The brown chairs heat up.
– There are less brown chairs than beige chairs.
– Wednesdays are the busiest days (this has to do with Tuesdays being the days that most of the oncologists meet with patients – which happens the day before treatment)
– Since I go on Wednesdays I may not get a brown chair.
– People can bring me food and drinks but they can’t eat or drink with me.
– TVs are all on mute. I must be able to read the closed captioning.
– There is one chair beside every beige and brown recliner … I can only have one visitor who is not eating or drinking.
– The washrooms in the suite are not for visitors.
– I cannot go to Tim Horton’s but I can go and pee with my IV pole. But not with my visitor.

What I noticed on my tour:

– There are 4 sections in the suite, each one assigned to a different nurse.
– Each section has 4 or 5 recliners. A couple of them are brown.
– There were only 6 patients in the suite, scattered in the different sections. All of them were in brown recliners. None of them were talking.
– As I walked through, each of the patients glanced at me with a knowing look.
– Chemo drip bags come through a hermetically sealed window at the far end of the suite.
– There are 2 washrooms. (For patients.)

What I determined:

No picnics. No singing. No visits from loud friends. No way I’m missing out on a brown recliner.

My first treatment is happening while I write this. And yes, I got here early, in hopes of a brown chair. Oh ya, you guessed it … I got one!

My bum is nice and warm.

What I’m Doing in the Chair Today:

Schedule for the today (week 1):

– begin with a “loading dose” of Herceptin (8ml / kg) that lasts 90 minutes (the next doses are not as big … they are called maintenance doses with 6ml/kg)
– They watch me for 1 hour. For side effects, but likely also to see what kind of patient I am … complainer? Rule breaker? Under prepared? No friends? Chatterbox? Eavesdropper?
– Then I get approx 1 hour of “pre-meds” before the taxol. They include 4 things:
1. Oral dose of anti-nausea pills that I have to remember to bring with me each week. Oh oh.
2. Benadryl (oral)
3. 15 min of Zantac drip (coats the stomach, helps with nausea)
4. 15 min Dexamethadrone drip (steroid)
– FinallyI get the nasty stuff, Taxel for 1 hour and 15 min.
– Then I get a ride home at around 2.

Extra Curriculars:

I’ve got a load of things to keep me amused. All the technology: iPhone, iPod, ipad (yes, Apple junkie). Lunch & drinks. Knitting. Journal. Book & magazine. Etchasketch.

Better get busy! Lots to do.

Word of the Day: Receptor

Posted on December 29, 2017 by pioneerintrees

Before my breast cancer journey began, I might have guessed that a receptor is a mechanical part of a TV tower. Or something like that. Perhaps I wasn’t paying attention in Biology classes. (Sorry Mr. Bailey! But thanks for the quilt!)

What are Receptors?

Turns out receptors are a big deal when it comes to breast cancer. There are three types of receptors on a breast cancer cell:

estrogen receptors
progesterone receptors
HER2 receptors (human epidural growth factor receptor 2)

What does it mean?

When you have breast tissue removed and sent to the lab, they identify whether or not the 3 receptors are positive or negative:

POSITIVE: This means that the cancer cell IS receiving signals from that hormone or protein, telling the cell to grow.

NEGATIVE: The cancer cell IS NOT receiving signals from that hormone or protein to grow.

Why is this important?

It determines your treatment. If any of the receptors come back Positive, then you are a candidate for “targeted therapy” – treatments that target specific characteristics of cancer cells. Good thing. Because other therapies like chemotherapy is a systemic therapy that targets all quickly growing cells … such as those that are in your gut, mouth, vagina, and that grow hair and nails. Yes, vagina.

So, for example, if you test positive for one of the two hormone receptors, then you can use hormone therapy to cut off the supply of estrogen and / or progesterone to the cells. These are called targeted therapies. Boom! Dead cancer cells without the need to throw a ton of chemotherapy at your body. (Note: This is when a positive result is actually positive … not like my last post when a Negative is a Positive.)

With that in mind, a triple negative pathology is NASTY … since only chemotherapy can be used.

What’s my pathology?

Let’s take a look (this is the 2nd path report btw):

My hormone receptors are both negative – so no hormone therapy for me. Move on to the HER2 receptors. Positive. WOOT WOOT!

What’s HER2?

HER2 are proteins that control how a healthy breast cell grows – until they stop working properly, get out of control and replicate in a crazy ass way.

This is the first thing I read about HER2, from the American Cancer Society website:

“For about 1 in 5 women with breast cancer, the cancer cells have too much of a growth-promoting protein known as HER2/neu (or just HER2) on their surface. These cancers, known as HER2-positive breast cancers, tend to grow and spread more aggressively. ”

Oh great. That doesn’t sound so positive…

So what’s next?

So to be sure that there there are no rogue cells journeying around my body, we have to hit those HER2 positive cancer cells with some drugs. And the best treatment is to combine some of the targeted therapy (good) with some of the systemic therapy (not as good). This is what my oncologist has recommended:

1. Herceptin (this is the brand name – the medical name, trastuzumab, is hard to say):

This is a monoclonal antibody (a man-made immune system protein).
It blocks the ability of the cancer cells to receive chemical signals that tell the cells to grow.
Sometimes it is given alone and sometimes accompanied with chemotherapy.
Causes flu like side effects (fever, chills, nausea, muscle aches).
Oh, and it can cause congestive heart failure … more on that in another blog post…

2. Taxol (chemical name Paclitaxel)

One of the taxane chemotherapies that interfere with the cell’s ability to divide.
In order for it to find the cancer cells it needs to hitch a ride on herceptin, which incredibly knows where to go (because it’s targeted …. remember?).
It uses solvents to dissolve paclitaxel, the main ingredient, so the medicine can enter the bloodstream. I will have to take pre-medications to minimize reactions to the solvents. Oh can’t wait for that.

So that’s where we’re at folks!! I know what’s coming … just have to firm up a few dates and get myself fitted with a portacath!

Oh so many more stories to come… like what I’m going to do with this stunning hair before I lose it all!!