I will be starting chemotherapy on Feb 8th. We set the wheels of the treatment juggernaut in motion at my oncology appointment a few days ago. I’ve already had a baseline echocardiogram; an ultrasound of the heart.  I saw my heart in shadows on the screen and watched the busy valves opening and closing. How I wish my organs could continue to do their vital work unobserved and without harassment from the powerful drugs ifosfamide and epirubicin that I will be taking for one to six months.  Each round will involve a five day hospital stay followed by three weeks of recovery. We will evaluate how I am tolerating the therapy after each round and decide to continue or not. There will be no way to measure the benefit of the treatment. If the cancer doesn’t return we will know that it was successful or unnessesary.

It’s taken me a long time to settle into this decision and I haven’t been ready to write about it until now. I don’t know if this decision is right or wrong; I do know it is one I can live with. I have been feeling so well that it is difficult to voluntarily return to the land of illness.  Losing my hair during treatment will be no small thing.  So far, in my journey with cancer I have always been able to ‘pass’  Soon, I will be set apart in a visible way.  UCSF is testing a chemo cooling cap  to prevent hair loss in breast cancer patients. I don’t think I could stand having my scalp chilled to 41 degrees for the five days that my treatment will take, but if it could also prevent chemo brain I would consider it.