Marisa 'eM' Louw

  First published in Parys Gazette on 24 September 2020 I went for my first-ever routine mammogram in December 2017 when I was 43 years old. It showed no signs of malignancy. In July 2019, I decided to go for another screening, and the clinical report stated in big, bold letters: BIRADS category 5–85 per cent chance for malignancy. A second opinion at a different radiologist confirmed that I should go for a biopsy and a few days later, I received the devastating news: I have Stage 2 lobular pleomorphic breast cancer that is positive for hormone receptors and the HER-2 protein. I’ve learnt that there are many different types of breast cancer. My kind of cancer affects less than five per cent of breast cancer patients worldwide and it has a poorer prognosis than other breast cancers. The tumour in my right breast was small – it only measured 15 mm, which is why I did not feel a lump during my self-examinations that I do religiously. But because lobular pleomorphic breast cancer is s...

 

  I remember this day, one year ago, as if it happened yesterday. At 10 o'clock, I walked into the radiology practice for my second-ever routine mammogram. And at noon I left confused, and in tears, because the radiologist found a suspicious mass in my right breast. Four agonising weeks later, my general health practitioner confirmed that I have breast cancer. Over the past 12 months, I have had six surgeries under general anaesthetic and 18 weeks of chemotherapy. I started an 18-month immune targeted therapy regime with an insanely expensive drug called Herceptin. My breast cancer is HER2 positive, which means that I have extra copies of the gene that makes the HER2 protein. The drug attaches itself to the cells and blocks the growth signal, which can slow or stop the spread of cancer significantly. My cancer also tested positive for hormone receptors which means that the estrogen produced by my body acts as food for cancer. As a result, part of my treatment includes blocking my b...

Tuesday, 3 March 2020 - On Friday I will be going for my last chemo session. After a double mastectomy in August last year, I underwent preventative chemotherapy since 25 October 2019, weekly, to help lower the risk of my breast cancer returning.  In combination with chemotherapy, I also receive a drug called Herceptin, every three weeks for 18 months. This drug attempts to block the HER2 protein receptors that cause cancer cells to grow. According to sources, only 1 in 5 breast cancers has this gene variation that produces a surplus of the HER2 protein.  And, because my cancer also tested positive for hormone receptors, from next month, I will start a 5 to 10-year treatment plan that suppresses my ovaries from producing estrogen. This involves an injection once every three months. In combination with the hormone-blocking therapy, I will also be taking a daily drug (Tamoxifen) that blocks estrogen from attaching to the receptor on the cancer cell. This prevents the cancer cel...

  Thursday, 23 January 2020 - Tomorrow, I will be receiving my 12th chemotherapy treatment. Six more to go after that. Since 25 October 2019, I have been receiving 120mg Paclitaxel, 400mg Cimetidine, 12.5mg Phenergan, 250mg Solumedrol, and 1mg Granisetron every Friday. On 22 November I also started receiving 600mg Herceptin every three weeks for 18 months. My body and mind have different reactions to the treatment.  At first, I did not feel anything unusual. My hair started falling out around day 25, but I did not lose all my hair - just severe thinning thereof. Around day 49, I started suffering swelling of my face, body, arms and legs due to water retention. Walking became a bit of an effort because swollen feet hurt when you step on them. I am taking medication for this every morning. Around day 77, I developed a rash all over my scalp, face, chest, and back. By day 87, I have gained almost 7kg, and my clothes don't fit. This morning I woke up with my first mouth sore....

  Wednesday, 4 December 2019 - Tomorrow will be my seventh chemotherapy session. It feels almost unreal to think that I’m already on Day 41 of my 126-day chemo treatment cycle. My hair started falling out on Day 25. Other than that, I cannot say that I have any noticeable side-effects (yet).  Let’s talk about hair loss. When I speak to women in the breast cancer support group, most of them fear hair loss more than any of the other chemotherapy side-effects. I can understand why. Without hair you are exposed. But you must know that hair does not make you who you are. It is not easy having to face the real you, stripped naked for the world to see. You cannot hide the sadness in your eyes by letting your hair fall over your face. And you cannot express sensuality by untying your hair from a bun and shaking it loose to fall over your shoulders. Like the sexy biker-chick that takes off her helmet, or the swimsuit model who gets out of the pool. We use our hair to voice our mood, w...

  It's been a while since my last real social interaction with a group of people and this weekend's social activities made me realise it may be a good idea to give everyone an update on my health. Living a normal life I am blessed not having experienced any chemo side-effects so far after four sessions. I shaved my hair by choice and am keeping it short, just in case it starts falling out. I am up and about and am not quite sure why people were so surprised to see me at work this weekend. My cancer diagnoses is not a death sentence and there is no reason for me to be bedridden. My body is recovering from four surgeries since August 2019, all under general anesthetic, and the side-effects from anesthesia and all the antibiotics are leaving me slightly fatigued and with a little 'brain fog' at times.  I have a healthy appetite, I sleep well, I go to gym, I play outside with my animals, I wash the car, I work in the garden... I’m pretty much living a normal life. And I am ...

  Friday, 1 November 2019 - Over the last three months Fridays have almost lost that ‘happy’ feeling because hubby and I have been spending them mostly in doctors’ consulting rooms or in the hospital. But it is strange how one gets used to it. Very much the same way I had to get used to spending between four and six hours in the car every other day to drive to and from Parys for client meetings in Johannesburg. Some projects required me to make the commute daily. Although it is a pretty relaxing drive for most of the trip, the traffic in Johannesburg can be brutal and at best unpredictable. If you are feeling ill, or had a bad night’s sleep, or in a bad mood the trip feels extra long. And no matter how ‘good’ the day has been, one is generally exhausted by the time you get back home, especially if you have been the driver all day long. But this blog post is not about commuting; I just wanted you to know that my medical team is not 10 km away, but 130 km. This is my reason for bein...

  Friday, 25 October 2019 - I wake up in an anxious mood. If the surgeon is happy with how my wounds are healing I will be starting chemo today. Hubby is irritable this morning. I guess it is because we never know what is going to happen when we meet the surgeon. Each time we go there it seems as if something else is wrong: complications, more surgery, more complications, more procedures... What will today bring? Should I pack an overnight bag for yet another hospital stay?  At 8 am we got into to the car and I tackled the trip from Parys to Rosebank behind the wheel of the Black Widow. We arrived just in time for my 9:45 am appointment. The surgeon examined my wounds and expressed happiness at the healing process. My left wound still has stitches in after last week’s fat necrosis complication and my right breast is healing really well after the debridement procedure on 27 September. New skin is growing nicely and have covered almost the full area of the wound. He gives me th...

  I'm scrolling through the Twitter hashtag #BreastCancerAwarenessMonth and even though there are more stories of survival than anything else, I cannot deny that I am afraid. My body is recovering well after the three surgeries I had on 1 August (lumpectomy - 1 hour), 30 August (bilateral mastectomy and reconstructive surgery - 3 hours), and 29 September (debridement - 1 hour). Yesterday I managed to drive the 140 km from Parys to Joburg and back for business meetings. I was fatigued and sore by the time I arrived back home, but I am slowly getting my independence back. My body is still suffering some unpleasant side effects from being on antibiotics non-stop since 30 August. The last dose is today and hopefully, I won't be put onto another course when I see the surgeon tomorrow for a follow-up. Tomorrow I'm also meeting another oncologist for a second opinion. The first oncologist still hasn't confirmed to me in person what stage my cancer is in. I have a stack of rep...

  On the 8th of July, I went for a routine mammogram and on the 23rd of July it was confirmed - I have breast cancer. Following an array of diagnostics tests and surgery, I finally sat opposite my oncologist on the 21st of August receiving the news that I have aggressive Grade 3 invasive lobular breast cancer. A week later I was admitted to hospital for a bilateral (double) skin-saving mastectomy and direct to implant breast reconstruction. Today, on the 16th of September, I heard that I will start chemotherapy in the next two or three weeks. But let's take a step back and allow me to explain a few things. Cancer cells were found in my right breast. My type of cancer is stimulated by estrogen and it has aggressive growth patterns. During the mastectomy, we managed to obtain what the doctors call surgical clearance. This means that all the cancer cells were removed during the surgery. A total of eight lymph nodes were removed around the area of the cancer (six in the right breast an...

  As you may be aware by now, I have been diagnosed with aggressive grade 3 invasive lobular breast cancer about three weeks ago. I have since had a bilateral (double) mastectomy and will be finding out whether I will be receiving chemotherapy this coming Monday. Those of you who know me knows that I am level-headed and able to do multiple things at once. I am a hard worker who is dedicated to my clients and work-related commitments. My personal affairs have always played second fiddle. But over the past three weeks, I had to learn to put my personal affairs first. And it came with several sacrifices - some by choice and others forced. Being diagnosed with cancer has, so far, been an administrative nightmare! First and most frustrating is being passed from doctor to doctor to doctor. And each visit comes with diagnostic tests and a medical bill that is not covered by my entry-level hospital plan. My inbox looks like a tornado hit it with all the invoices from doctors, pathologists,...