Buh bye hairs!

When my oncologist said 2 weeks it really was 2 weeks. I mean on the dot. To the hour, probably to the minute. I thought I might be one of the lucky ones that doesn't lose their hair. Guess not!

A very strange side note... you lose your pubic and underarm hair first. Freaky eh? I won't show that part....

These are from my last day with hair.

If you're wondering how your hair falls out during chemo; it falls out in huge chunks. The hair isn't attached to anything anymore so it makes these little popping noises when it comes out of your scalp. It doesn't hurt... it sorta feels good honestly. I took a picture of a handful that came out when I ran my fingers through my hair.


A picture of Adam and I (he hates this picture of himself btw) is in the bathroom minutes before Adam buzzed my hair short.

My previously stellar mane of hair now on the bathroom tile... :(

But yeh know, I have to make an empowered face, because shit, I preemptively got rid of my hair! I like to think by shaving my head meant it was my choice when to lose my hair. It didn't really make me feel any better in the long run, but the actual shaving part was totally entertaining.

The next my hair was completely gone. We used duct tape to get the little stragglers off later. I'm obviously more bummed in that picture all hairless and lame...

but oh look, WIGS! Eff yeah! Looking sick sucks, people stare at you and tell you about their aunt that died. I'd just as soon not hear any of that so I chose to wear wigs. They're itchy but it's kinda fun because you can have an identity crisis every day!


And thus concludes the loss of my hair on round one of chemotherapy. She's a saucy mistress that chemo one day I hope to slap her in the face for all the heartache she's caused.

Often the cancer experience is a whirlwind affair for a year. It leaves you breathless and probably a little scared sort of like a bad relationship... alright a super abusive relationship where your partner tries to kill you.

The week or so preceding my diagnosis was nuts. It was filled with a lot of crazies coming over to sell me alkaline water and cashew cheese, going on a raw food diet and my sister making me drink something that tasted like hippy farts. I think when a person first gets diagnosed with Maserati cancer all you can really do is hang on and react. I went to a few places that had sarcoma units. I ended up liking UCLA's approach the best. My doctor was cute and very willing to accommodate my questions and having my whole family in on my office visits. (I'm sort of the baby of the family... most of the time to my annoyance).

I was outfitted with a cyborg port and the next day I started Adriamycin (they don't mess around at UCLA. The red devil as it's called is quite the stuff. As you can see from the pictures the first day I was like "heeeey this ain't so bad" and the picture from the next day I look like I'd just been hit by a truck. I seriously thought I might die that night. I don't think I've ever been so sick. My whole body felt like it was trying to escape chemo.

I was only to have 2 rounds of Adria before getting a PET to see if there was tumor change. Turns out that 2 days after my first infusion my tumor was gonnnne. I couldn't feel or see it anymore. Then, right before it was due for my second infusion it came back. So, this told my oncologist that the cancer was being hit by the chemo and then regrouping. That couldn't be good... So, I had my second infusion and a PET to see what was happnin'.

The Adventure Begins!

So having really just started this blog its mostly filled with older posts from the Breast Cancer Network that I write on. I thought it might be sorta cool to chronicle my journey with Angiosarcoma of the boobie and see how it goes. First up is the day I got my core needle biopsy, consequently also the day I went in for an exam with a new doctor... I guess it was that urgent.

The story:

So an unsuspecting me goes to a different boobie doctor after 2 years of ignoring what my other boobie doctor diagnosed me at 24 with; a globular hemangioma AKA a benign vascular tumor much like a strawberry mark (but inside your body). My former boobie doctor took my tumor out on my insistence. Whoever tells you that cancer doesn't hurt is full of shit. It hurt! I couldn't sleep on my stomach and the mass hurt to the touch.
Old boobie doc basically told me to come back for a mammogram when I was 35. He also told me hemangiomas almost always come back but not to worry about it... and if it was really bothering me he'd take it out again. So, when it came back 3 months after having it removed I took the drs. orders, I left it alone. For 2 years. Eventually, the mass got so big and uncomfortable that I was like eff this noise and went to a new boob doctor. While I was there telling her about what the other dr said, she was like "uh, you have one unhappy breast... and that is NOT normal. Your nipple is inverted and you're in pain". She got on the phone then and got me a STAT apt with the breast center. I had an ultrasound that day and while I was there the radiologist picks up the phone, calls my new boob doc back and asks her if he can biopsy the mass. I knew then I was in deep poops. Then the ultrasound doc goes somewhere and leaves me in the room with pictures of my tumor and a GIANT freaking needle and me in a fancy pink frock.

A word about biopsies. They hurt. Also I almost passed out, not generally afraid of needles or blood I found this surprising. My head was about to pop off from shock and panic and everything moving so quickly. The biopsy was guided by ultrasound so I actually had to watch while the 2 doctors fussed over my boob. Then they started talking about 16th century medicine and I sort of got tunnel vision and my hearing got all fuzzy. I clung to consciousness like a barnacle and made it through the biopsy without barfing or passing out!

The doctor told me that my results would be in the next day by 3 and if I did not hear from him, to call.

Next day at 3 I called. "We don't have the results yet"

day 2 at 3: "We are having trouble determining what we are seeing"

Day 3 at 3: "We are confirming with a specialist that you have a highly vascularized tumor- not sure if its malignant"

Day 4 at 3: "we've sent the specimen out to Johns Hopkins, Mayo, and MD Anderson for confirmation of diagnosis"

Day 5 at 6: "Hey Tracey, is someone there with you?" Yes... "You have a very rare malignant neoplasm called Angiosarcoma" Ohhh shit... "yes, I can't treat you, Its not breast cancer (even though its in your breast) I have to defer to a sarcoma specialist" oh... okay, thank you? "I am going to have the sarcoma board at City of Hope review your case, we're going to use you as a case study, it means you'll get the best care and most attention available."

I was in shock so its little surprise that I did a whole lot of nothing besides look at my mom and say "Evidently I have cancer... the bad kind" Not that all cancer isn't bad it's just that I happen to have the Maserati of cancers- fast moving and rare.


Here is a picture of my fancy giant needle and my face after seeing it. So, there my story starts on the 21st of January 2009.