Last night I read this in the August 2005 Family Circle magazine:

Better Breast Cancer Treatment

A combination of drugs can significantly decrease cancer recurrence in women with the disease known as HER-2 positive breast cancer, according to multicenter clinical trials sponsored by the National Cancer Institute.  Nearly one out of four cases of breast cancer is HER-2 positive, says lead researcher Edward Romond, M.D.  These women have an overproduction of the HER-2 protein in cancer cells; this speeds cancer growth and increases the risk of spreading.  For the trials, 1,679 women with HER-2 positive breast cancer in their lymph nodes received chemotherapy alone and 1,672 with the same disease received chemotherapy and weekly injections of trastuzumab for 52 weeks.  After three years, those who received trastuzumab and chemo had a 52 percent dip in cancer recurrence compared to women who received chemotherapy alone.  Side effects include weakening of the heart muscle; however, most patients regain normal function, says Dr. Romond.

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Today, I received my fourth dose of trastuzumab, also known as Herceptin.  I fit the profile of the women who received chemo first and then Herceptin injections so the hope is that over my own 52-week treatment, my chances of recurrence will decrease. Unlike the women in the study, I did not have spread to my lymph nodes—but I am young and young women typically have more aggressive tumors so my treatment plan follows a somewhat radical approach.

My actual Herceptin treatment does not feel so radical because I don't feel much at all.  I just sit while a clear liquid drips through my port and into my jugular vein and then spreads throughout my body.  I don't get sick.  I won't lose my hair.  My blood counts do not suffer.  Besides some fatigue, it's okay.  And a bit relaxing too.

Today I slept in my reclined pink chair.  It was quiet—I was one of three or four patients and the nurses worked at a more leisurely pace than usual.   It was peaceful. But the whole chemo experience is still emotional and challenging.  It doesn't matter if the infusion room is overwhelmed with activity or quiet with just a few patients—I am still painfully aware of the obvious: We are all there to fight for our lives.  It's empowering. It’s sobering.

This evening, I came home and resumed my usual activities and got back to life—not without thinking about the importance of my every-three-week infusion but with a dull notion of it all.   The power of the day will continue to fade over the next three weeks, until I report back to the pink chair and it all becomes crystal clear again—a reminder that life is precious and delicate and worth fighting for.