Somebody fucked up.
Excuse my language, but it’s true.
I got my biomarker results back from Duke yesterday. The Estrogen levels in my invasive cancer were 98% and my Progesterone was 58%. These are much better numbers than the ones Novant gave me of 21% and 22% respectively. I don’t know where or how they got those numbers, but if they’d tested it correctly the first time, I wouldn’t have had to go through all of this up-and-down, back-and-forth absolute nonsense that has become my life these past couple of months since my surgery.
This also makes more sense as to why my Oncotype (chance of recurrence) came back at 14%. If you recall, lower ER/PR scores usually mean higher Oncotypes and vice versa, which caused mass confusion with my doctors (and me by association) when mine didn’t come out right.
Also, my HER2 came back negative on the first try. No FISH test required. Nothing got lost in the mail. No delays. Imagine that!
Dr. Sammons, who is on my case at Duke, is still going to send off for another Oncotype just to be 100% sure, but she thinks the first one is correct and this one will come back the same.
So, the preliminary will-she/won’t-she-need-chemo results are IN and they say (drumroll please)…
Y’all, this is the best news I’ve heard ALL YEAR (and I bought a freaking house this year). I could cry (again). It almost makes all of the emotions and grey hairs that are, I’m sure, working their way to the surface as we speak worth it. Someone certainly heard all the prayers and good vibes you people were sending my way.
This means we caught it early (which we already knew). We caught it before it could turn into anything worse. Before it could spread. Before it could become anything more than the emotional rollercoaster that it was. Yes, I lost my boobs, which was devastating, but in the scheme of things, it isn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Lots of people lose much worse to cancer. And now my life can go back to “normal” before this year is over. Yes, I will be on Estrogen suppressors for years and will have an oncologist chasing me around for the rest of my life, but WE ARE AT THE FINISH LINE. Please buckle your seatbelts once more, because we are preparing to land this MF’ing, turbulence-ridden flight, and I could not be more happy about it.
While I’m going to wait for the last Oncotype score to come back before I start planning my Stage One and Done party, I AM going to get that swap surgery on the calendar and hopefully get rid of these damn expanders sooner rather than later. I’m gettin REAL tired of sleeping on Tupperware lids every night.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the metaphorical #micdrop on this complete and utter bullshit situation. Cancer messed with the wrong bitch.