Jimmy Fallon! Where are you?

Weekend update is here! I need Jimmy Fallon to bring some laughter to this mess. So much good and bad news, it's tough to keep up. As I always say, it's all just "news," and the only news worth really glomming on to is the good stuff, so here goes.
My last post indicated that I would be starting treatment on September 15th. Well, the more I thought about it, the more I didn't like >100 lesions reaching puberty in my brain, so I decided to pound the table a bit.
Meet Doctor Goldsmith, the latest sniper on my crackerjack med team. He's Army trained, did his residency at UCSF with my other awesome Rad Onc and comes highly recommended. He's just down the street which makes all of this much easier. He's a super cool guy and operates a ginormous Linear Accelerator that targets the cancer cells in my brain. I like him and I think he's up for the job. So, I took my UCSF scans to his office and made an attempt to make an appointment. Stymied by his admin, I decided to be that nightmare patient that shows up and demands an appointment. Okay, I've worked in healthcare and I understand that everyone's emergency is their own emergency and should be treated as such. However, in the ER, we sort you based on need. If you are having the big one, bleeding to death, or can't breathe (among a few other things), we put you on the top of the list. Well, it's different in clinical medicine. First, they get your referral. Then, they request the scans/bloodwork/doctor's notes so that the physician treating you can "sort" you within his/her practice. Rightly, or wrongly, I felt like a bunch of cancer cells in my brain moved me up the list. Brain Mets people. What if it was your brain?
So, I skipped a couple steps. UCSF overnighted my info to the admin staff  (per my request) so all of that was en route. Then, I showed up. I hand-delivered the scans I knew the doctor would need to make a determination to the admin, and she assured me the doctor would see me Tuesday or Wednesday of the following week (7-8 days away).
Let's do some math. You have >100 lesions in your brain trying to kill you by growing. Let's just say they all grow half as big. Your situation has now worsened 1 ½ times. The key to killing cancer is killing small, weak collections of cells that have no foothold, so if you think I am going to let a few pre-pubescent cancer cells mature in my brain over 7-8 days, forget it.
After the admin described the process of getting an appointment (she didn't know I worked in healthcare obviously), I asked her how many Brain Metastasis patients the office was currently treating. She admitted two. I decided they had room. I let her know that I was recently diagnosed by UCSF with over 100 lesions on my brain and throughout my body, positively confirmed by biopsy as a return of my formerly Stage III, now Stage IV metastatic breast cancer, and that I would like to begin treatment as soon as possible. I was polite. I was direct, but not rude, clearly implying that I was not willing to wait a week. She called the next day. "Doctor would like to see you tomorrow."
Okay, so we've established that Dr. Goldsmith is a can-do guy. He's a go-getter. He's a get 'er done, son kinda doc. The team scheduled my "simulation" (A.K.A. Hannibal Lecter mask-fitting) following my appointment. AND he offered to begin treatment that afternoon. Yes, Yes, and yes please.
We had already done the math, the research, the side effect profile, and consulted three certified radiation oncologists.... Whole Brain Radiation Treatment (WBRT) is the next step for people with my profile. Additionally, I am unable to begin systemic therapy until after my radiation treatment concludes because the radiation effects the drugs I will be treated with. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can bring on the next cancer-killing machine.
I started radiation treatment that day.
So far, I can still tie my shoes and do higher math. I am told my short-term memory will suffer, but it's already affected, so that's nothing new. The loss of my hair is inevitable which is the saddest part for me. It took me three years to get it this length. I love having hair. I know, it's so superficial and childish, but losing my hair is a rough side effect. I've always had long thick hair. It's one part of me that's unique to me and with two daughters in the house with long gorgeous hair, the contrast is glaring. Scarves are not my thing and baseball caps don't fit without some hair. Beanies are sweet and look good in winter but not when it's 90 degrees outside. This is one of those "suck-it-up" parts of cancer. Want hair? or 5-10 more years? I'll take the years. Some good news is I will only lose the hair  in the field of treatment. Therefore, I get to keep my eyelashes and possibly, my eyebrows. This is kind of a huge win.
UCSF continues to run tests on bloodwork and tissue samples. One of the therapies suggested is a cutting edge gene therapy where they sequence my DNA and the DNA of cancer cells to determine where in the genetic code things are going awry. That's some cool science and where your hard-earned cancer dollars are being spent.  There are a number of hormone adjuvant treatments that can be effective (before chemo) and depending on the tissue profile, I might qualify for ALL of them! Yay! There are also multiple clinical trials and experimental therapies available to Stage IV patients. I leveled up so I get to move up the qualifications list. Radiation treatment will end September 15th. I'll be pretty sick and fairly knackered so don't panic if you don't hear from me. I will try to post updates here but I'm working on expanding my website too for short versions.
The hubs and the girls are doing best as can be expected. Marek is a pillar of greatness, making all of this up as he goes along. He keeps me in check, reminds me when memory fails, and keeps me from overestimating my abilities given my proclivities (a HUGE, thankless  job).
As of right now, textbook prognosis is 3-5 years. If treatments are effective, it can be as long as 15 or 20. So don't write those long, tearful goodbyes just yet. I still have a few bucket list items to knock off, a few loved ones left to hug and a mountain of friends to visit. It's business as usual around here planning the next adventure, cleaning the kitchen and trying to remember where I left my keys. FYI, I will be playing the cancer card this round, so if I show up on your doorstep with two tickets to bungee -jumping in india, you are required to participate.  Just sayin'. So increase that health insurance and get those passports ready! Love to all and thank you for reading.