Chemo Friends Meet-up in Mexico, Part One

There are message boards on breastcancer.org. When each month begins, someone starts a thread for everybody starting chemo at the same time - to compare notes and side effects, ask questions, find out if what's happening to us is normal or at the very least shared by anyone else. The March 2015 chemo thread was a lifeline for me: a group of people all as shell-shocked and horrified over what was happening to them as I was, people who immediately, without question, understood to the depths of their hearts what nobody else in my life could. We got to know each other, and we became friends.

We kept in touch for a long time on the website, and then started a private facebook group. There are about 45 of us still posting, some more than others. One of our members, Katy, moved to Baja California after she finished treatment, and I joked a few months ago we should all visit her for our three-year cancerversary. I was joking! Really! But soon enough, it was happening. 

We all flew into San Diego, where another one of our members lived. She and her husband rented a conversion van and picked us all up at the airport and we drove to Mexico. Ten ladies in a van! Plus Roger. Roger was a saint.

There is already a wall at the Mexican border in San Diego, FYI. It took about 5 minutes to go through. We had some extra screening but as soon as the guard opened the door and saw a bunch of middle-aged women they waved us through.

Our first stop was a little grocery-slash-liquor store. They had a huge variety of tequilas. We did a tequila tasting and I was surprised to find I could actually tell a difference! I had approximately 1/2 tsp per taste.

We also picked up snacks here and bottled water, as it really is true you shouldn't drink the water in Mexico.

Half the group rented an AirBNB house around the corner from Katy's house and the other half stayed in a hotel about a mile away. I'm a bad sleeper and was concerned everyone might be crazy so I got my own room using my corporate American Express points. It was a beautiful place but not fancy.

My suite was possibly overkill for one person. But it was the equivalent of about $80 a night, so.

The hotel is on a golf course.

Katy's house was about a ten minute walk across the golf course. I spent the three days walking back and forth with my new friend Diane, who is 57 and from Virginia. She is a delight. The March 2015 diagnosis is her second round with breast cancer.

The first full day in Mexico, we set out in the conversion van for a day in Baja California wine country. (Who knew Baja California has wine country?) First we went to a fantastic cheese shop and had some samples.

When we got to the first winery I was surprised to find that it seemed like a real professional place and the wine was genuinely very good.

They had a table set up for us under a 500 year old oak tree with snacks. It was a little chilly but we managed.

Then we were off to the second destination. Baja California is very interesting: beautiful places interspersed with not-so-beautiful. There is a large American ex-pat community there.

The second winery was at the end of a very long, bumpy dirt road. I had no idea what to expect - but this beautiful valley was certainly a surprise.

We had some amazing food here that I didn't take pictures of - a tropical fruit ceviche - and, of course, more wine.

The third stop was a very small little place owned by an American woman. They make pizza here to serve with the wine.

This dog wanted my pizza.

The winery bathroom is in the trailer where the winery owner lives. It's just her regular bathroom.

In the evening we sat around Katy's house with - you guessed it - more cheese and wine.

I'm no stranger to internet friends, but I'd never met or even talked offline to any of these people before. It was a bit daunting, getting in a van in San Diego and driving into Mexico and realizing that even if I wanted to, I'd have no way to leave - but all of these ladies turned out to be fantastic. We had people from all over the U.S. and one who came all the way from Australia. I was pretty sure after the first day that this coming to this thing was one of the best decisions I'd ever made.

Waiting.

December 6
I have a regularly scheduled followup appointment with my surgeon, Dr. DiLalla. Last year I requested screening MRIs in addition to the usual mammogram protocol, and she agreed. MRIs are more sensitive than mammograms and can pick up cancers that might be missed otherwise. At the end of this appointment we schedule the screening MRI for Monday, December 18.

Wait 9 days.

December 15
The nurse from Dr. DiLalla's office calls me and says that Cigna has denied my MRI as I am not considered high risk. In order to be considered high risk, you have to be BRCA positive or have a first degree relative with breast cancer. This means that because of my history of cancer, my mother and sister would have their MRIs paid without question - but not me, the actual breast cancer patient. This is the second year in a row they have made this decision. Dr. DiLalla can call to get it overturned, but she won't be in the office in time for me to keep my appointment or to reschedule it before the Christmas holiday. We reschedule for January.

Wait 26 days.

January 11
I go to Duke Raleigh's Radiology Center, parking in my old familiar parking deck and walking past the Cancer Center where I had chemo. My eyes are closed during the IV insertion when the tech says, "uh oh," and I open my eyes to discover a river of blood gushing from my arm. He gets it sealed off. I have to change into a new gown. I get the MRI.

Wait 5 days.

January 16
Dr. DiLalla calls me at work. She called me at work three years ago, too. She says, "We got your MRI results. Are you somewhere you can talk?" Are you fucking kidding me? I get up and shut my office door. They have seen two areas of enhancement in my left breast they would like to biopsy. My right breast, the cancer breast, is fine. This is a scenario I had not in my wildest dreams thought to worry about: an entirely new cancer in the other breast. She says, "I'm not overly concerned." The way she emphasizes overly is not comforting. They only do MRI-guided biopsies at big Duke, in Durham. Her office will call me to schedule.

January 17
After no one from Dr. DiLalla's office calls me to schedule, I call them and talk to four separate people before finding someone to help. The first available appointment is 7:15am on January 26.

Wait 2 days.

January 19
The MRI report becomes available in my online chart. I read it and google frantically for five to ten minutes before I notice the conclusion at the bottom. "Suspicious abnormality: low suspicion of malignancy." I feel an immediate, physical relief. I later google further, however, and see that this is a very specific term with specific guidelines. Around 10% of findings of this description are malignant. This is not helpful. The chances I would have gotten cancer in the first place at 38 years old are much lower than 10%. Every cancer patient knows statistics are useless.

Wait 7 days.

January 26
I drive to Durham before dawn. The main Duke Cancer Center is huge, like an airport. There is valet parking available because the lot is too far away for sick people to walk. I'm doing all right until I see all the wheelchairs lined up on the sidewalk in front of the door. I am so tired of being in this stupid club. I was so close to feeling free of it, but I realize I am not and will never be free. The IV insertion goes better this time. I brought my fuzzy socks to wear with the hospital gown, the ones I wore to chemo. The radiologist says, "If I were a betting man, I'd say these are not cancer." But he looks to be around 36 years old. What does he know? He also says, "And even if they are, they're small and slow-growing." Sure, sure. Cool.

It's absolutely freezing inside the MRI room. I lay face down on a table with my left breast hanging through a hole, which they then compress between plastic plates. For around an hour, they wheel me into the tube, take pictures, wheel me back out again, give me numbing shots in my breast and remove pieces of me with some kind of device that sounds exactly like a dentist's drill. They seal the wounds with glue. Also: I have to pay $6 to park.

That evening I find myself thinking, "It wasn't so bad," which means: I am already thinking like a cancer patient again. No normal person would consider this an okay way to spend the morning.

Wait 4 days.

January 30
4:35pm, my phone rings, a Durham number. It's the 36-year-old radiologist. "It's good news, both spots are completely benign. These are not things you ever need to worry about following up on. It's all good."

----

So. That's what I've been up to.

Ireland, Day Fourteen: Dublin

Every single person I talked to who has been to Dublin said Dublin was not that great. Poor Dublin! I felt like we couldn't go to Ireland and not go at all, though. So we drove the 3 hours from Derry and dropped off the car at the airport and were freeeee! We got a cab to take us to our hotel in the city center. 

Dublin's hotels are wildly expensive, New York style. I found the Harding Hotel, which seemed to be in a good location and looked nice, but was suspiciously reasonably priced. I was a little worried about it, but it turned out to be great! 

It was in a busy but cute neighborhood right in the center of town.

Walking around, it's pretty easy to see why everyone said Dublin wasn't worth the time. Not because there's anything wrong with it, necessarily, but because it seems a bit generic, like any big city. Very Londony.

I had really wanted to see the Book of Kells in the Trinity College Library but the guidebooks made it sound like a miserable experience, packed with tourists at all times. We did walk over toward the college but the entire street was filled with people milling around outside tour buses for blocks and blocks, so we turned right around and got out of there.

We went to the National Museum of Archeology instead.

This was a good decision! They have a bunch of cool stuff! I put Ben in charge of taking the photographs for this excursion.

The Temple Bar area is the tourist hotspot neighborhood and was about a 5 minute walk from our hotel. It felt like Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

 
Dublin Castle was also supposedly nearby but we had trouble finding it. Also, it kept raining and then not raining and at this point I was pretty much ready to come back to North Carolina and sit in the nice sunny heat.

We couldn't find the castle, it turns out, because it's been added to over various time periods and is very haphazard. The oldest part is the round tower.

We got takeout falafel for dinner to eat in our hotel room, which was right across the street from Christ Church Cathedral. The church bells kept ringing and ringing and ringing, and whoever was ringing them was not doing a very good job - off key, off rhythm - it was bad enough that I started googling to figure out what was going on. It turns out that on Friday nights they have PRACTICE SESSIONS for THREE HOURS where anyone can sign up to try their hand at ringing the church bells. Whose idea was this?? Right in the center of an urban area?!

Our trip home the next morning was uneventful, from Dublin through Boston back to Raleigh, all in economy class like regular people. SIGH. Another one in the books.

Ireland, Day Thirteen: Inishowen Peninsula

For our last day of road trip exploring, we decided to drive around the Inishowen Peninsula up to Malin Head, the northernmost point in Ireland. I have a coworker who is from this area and highly recommended it. We also considered Giant's Causeway, an hour in the other direction, but ultimately decided it would doubtless be very crowded and we didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people. This turned out to be the right decision.

The drive to Malin Head was beautiful and the area is very isolated. The very tip top of County Donegal.

Here they have another of the EIRE signs from World War II.

The wind was back. It was SO WINDY. Always with the wind. I also had woken up with a cold. So we walked out to the point and back, but didn't do much more exploring.

It was so windy here that the seafoam in this cove was blowing in little globs up the beach.

The last walking trail!

And here it comes, the rain. We booked it out of there to as not to get stuck out on the beach when it hit.

I was honestly shocked we made it the entire trip without crashing this car into anything. Trusty little horrible car!

We stopped at a famous seafood restaurant for a late lunch. The crab claws were like half the size of a human fist.

My coworker had recommended this restaurant, and it was also mentioned in the Lonely Planet book. We were there at 2pm and the restaurant was virtually deserted.

We ended up staying for quite a while after we ate to talk to the bartender - he is from the area and told us a lot what it was like to grow up there during the tensions of the 80s and 90s, the precarious peace they have going on now, and their fears for the near-term future as a result of Brexit. With Britain leaving the EU, they are going to have to do something about the invisible border with Ireland, when everybody involved would prefer to leave things as they are.

When we arrived back at the hotel I became extremely shivery and feverish and nauseated and stayed that way, more or less, for most of the night. It wasn't great. Ben had to go out and find me some acetaminophen because Advil wasn't cutting it. I was okay-ish by the following day; the nausea and high fever never came back, anyway, although I had cold symptoms for the next week or so. I don't know if this was coincidental food poisoning or what, but I'm three for three on being sick during our most recent vacations. I hope this isn't the beginning of a tradition.