So much to learn... So little time?

Well, I didn't expect that.  Yesterday, we went to our 2nd opinion consultation.  I've never gotten a 2nd opinion for anything.  Now I'm wondering if there is more I should've gotten a 2nd opinion on.  The difference between two doctors can be stark.

But that's not what I didn't expect.  (Great syntax, eh?)  I think I had convinced myself that we had gone through the worst of this.  That we had done enough and that Tamoxifen would be it.  Ooooo.  That was a bit o' good news.  Tamoxifen only *mimics* menopausal symptoms.  It's not actual menopause, even though it limits your estrogen production and blocks those estrogen receptors.  That is good news.  It didn't outweigh the rest of the day.  The rest...  Yeah.  Not so good news.  This doctor said some of the same things.  Grey area cancer.  Recommendations for treatment are harder because my cancer doesn't squarely fall...  anywhere.  I shouldn't be surprised.  That describes my whole life, pretty much.  I've always said I didn't believe in black and white.  That there are no absolutes.  It's nice being right sometimes, I suppose.

But to hear from a second person that chemo is the traditional, accepted, really unavoidable recommendation...  That sent me into a tailspin.  That's what I've been wanting, though, a definitive answer, right?  There is a "chemo~lite" option ~ a less intensive, less toxic chemo route that would still give me the benefit of Herceptin ~ the HER2 protein blocking infusion therapy ~ while experiencing less of the usual chemo side-effects.  But everything had looked so...  promising.  So f#cking promising.  So much...  easier, finally.

All I could feel was "haven't we done enough?"  This has been so hard.  Couldn't it have been...  hard enough, already?  I couldn't even vocalize that for half the day.  I was freaking out inside, but in the middle of it, I couldn't have told you why.  Well, the chemo part, that's kind of a given.  Who wouldn't freak out about toxic poison intentionally injected into your veins, yeah?  Once a week for 12 weeks?  Yeah.  That's definitely "freak out"~able.  But it felt bigger.  Deeper.  More encompassing.

So we let ourselves break down for a little bit.  I just folded into the embrace and sobbed for a bit.  I really wanted this to be over.  All I could think was, "I don't wanna do this."  That's pretty much been my mantra since this whole thing started.  Not really a great mantra for my inner breast cancer badass, eh?  Maybe that's part of the superhero origin story that we rarely hear~or that we don't *want* to hear.  When it's hard~when it's scary~when it's exhausting.  We don't wanna do it.  And I can only assume that everyone who has gone through something hard~something scary~something exhausting, feels that same thing, if only for a little bit.  It just so happens that all the options under the heading "not doing it" are...  not options.  Not for me.  They are just whimsical thinking~whimsical, and apparently delusional, thinking.  So yeah.  "I don't wanna do this."  One step closer to looking that BC badass in the eye...