Wednesday, July 07, 2010

IAATB, Part III

I don't know about you, but I am more than ready to get this over with. I just want to move on with my life. So without further ado, I give you...


The day after Mother's Day/Race for the Cure day I had my first routine breast MRI. My first MRI of any body part for that matter. Not only was it a Monday - my least favorite day of the week - but I also started out with a very slight, nauseous headache. Even the thought of a White Chocolate Mocha (with whip, of course) did nothing for me. You KNOW I wasn't feeling myself!

As I said, I'd never had an MRI before, but I'd heard plenty about them. The tight quarters and the loud clanking sounds. Didn't sound like something someone with the beginnings of a migraine would enjoy, but I'm made of pretty stern stuff. I mean, come on. I've been through way worse.

So I changed into the pretty little gown (insert heavy sarcasm here), took off my jewelry and followed the nurse down to the interrogation room or whatever they call it. She asked me all kinds of questions about my mastectomy and reconstruction and then I had to flash her my chest so she could draw pictures of all my scars on a piece of paper. That might sound weird to some, but after you've had a plastic surgeon draw on your girls with a felt tip marker, it's not that strange.

After that it was time for the MRI. The table had one of those cushioned face rests like they have on a massage table. In fact the technician told me it was just like a massage, only much more noisy and I wouldn't feel relaxed when it was all over. (I appreciate honesty in my medical staff.) A few inches down from the face rest were two holes. I am not lying. There were two holes for, you know.

**Digression**

This reminds me of when I was pregnant with Taylor. I had always been a tummy sleeper, but when you're hugely pregnant you can't exactly sleep on your belly. Some friends of ours had a "pregnant air mattress", an air mattress with a hole for the impregnated belly. They loaned it to us and Todd took a video of me, 8 months pregnant, demonstrating how to use it. The laying down and getting comfortable parts were fine. The getting up part? Not so much. I couldn't get off the mattress and then I'd start to laugh and my very impregnated rear end (it looked like it was pregnant with twins) would start to jiggle which would make Todd laugh, which would make me laugh and the cycle never seemed to end.

**Digression Over**

I had to reach up above my head and hold onto some handles and then the technician manipulated my udders (because really, that's what I kept thinking of) into their designated slots. After that I closed my eyes and tried to go to my happy place while they slid me into the big tube and the clanking and humming began. Can I just tell you it's hard to go to one's happy place when: a) one's head feels as though it's being jackhammered; and b) it actually sounds like a jackhammer right next to one's head. I tried going to some tropical paradise, but the next thing I knew the natives were chanting loudly and trying to shrink my head. Then I tried going to a peaceful meadow with a gently rippling brook, but a huge grizzly bear showed up. He had a deafening roar and very sharp claws.

They had told me the test would last about 25 minutes. With my head in a hole I had no way of knowing how much time was passing, but after a while I figured it had to have been more than 25 minutes. Finally the test was over and the technician came to help me off the torture device table. She apologized and told me that they had to take more views than she originally thought so I was on the table close to 45 minutes instead. The longest 45 minutes of my entire life.

The migraine became more intense as the test went on and the drive home was miserable. But I drugged up on Excedrin Migraine, took a nap in my chair and felt much better when I woke up.

Bottom line - clear baseline. I'll go through all that stuff every week if it means I get to hear the words No Evidence of Disease. I would prefer to go through it all with a venti White Chocolate Mocha, though. With whip, of course.

Labels: breast cancer

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Tuesday, July 06, 2010

IAATB - Part II (And An Apology)

First the apology. I'm sorry. I know there are several of you whose lives revolve around this blog and I've gone over a month - a whole, long month - without blogging at all, the longest I've ever gone. And after I promised to endeavor to attempt to try to do better. I will make no more promises. Ever.

I'm just joshing you about people whose lives revolve around this blog. I only know of, like, two. Not really. Just one. Okay. That's an exaggeration as well. I just thought it would make me sound more important. Guess I'll just get on with it.

June was quite a month around here, but before I can elaborate I need to finish the It's All About The Boobs trilogy. Of course, it's been so long since the events happened that this will be the Readers' Digest Condensed version because I've forgotten most of what I was going to tell you. So here we go:


PART TWO

On Sunday, May 9, Mother's Day, I got up super early and met my friend and photography mentor, Gail, in the church parking lot and we drove into Philly for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Just the hanging out with Gail was awesome. We never seem to run out of things to talk about. I love that about her.

I was smart and brought my pink gloves with me, just in case it was cold. It was freezing. I was dumb and left the gloves in the car. I was also in need of coffee, but the line to the Wawa tent with the free coffee seemed like it went all the way back to the church parking lot we had just come from. The line for the free iced tea was non-existent, however, so I got my caffeine fix that way. On a frigid morning, but you know. We do what we need to do.

We mosied toward the Art Museum steps where they have the Survivor's Parade and for some reason, I didn't want to do the parade. I just wanted to stand there with Gail and watch it. It was the right thing for me to do because walking down those steps with all the other women in the pink survivor t-shirts is very surreal. But watching all those pink shirts move down the steps is very moving. Next year I'm sure I'll take that walk, but I'm glad I got to watch it as a survivor.

The rest of the morning went pretty much how you'd expect it. We walked and walked and walked and then went to brunch in the city before coming home, where I took a nice, long nap. I know there were other things I wanted to mention, but I can't remember. I'm sure they were vastly entertaining and worthy of some kind of an award, but this is what I get for waiting so long to report.

I had actually planned to write Part III in this post, but I just don't have it in me. You know that road? The one to hell? Well I'm paving that sucker faster than I can say "Bob's Yer Uncle," and I can say that pretty fast. So at some point - I don't know when - I will get to Part III. Really. But I'm not going to promise.

Labels: breast cancer, Race for the Cure

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Saturday, May 29, 2010

It's All About The Boobs - Part I

I know, I know. It’s been two weeks since I tantalized you with the promise of three boob stories. Sorry to leave you hanging. [*snort* That made me think of the old song I used to sing to my mom, “Do your boobs hang low..." But I digress.] Without further ado, here is part one of the boob trilogy.


For most of April and the first week of May I was lied to left and right. Todd lied to me, my friends lied to me, my kids lied to me... and I didn’t know. It’s a little scary how easily these people, people who supposedly care about me, could tell me falsehood after falsehood with a perfectly straight face. Let me give you a small sampling of the bevy of deceptions perpetrated against me.

Early April:

Katie
Katie: I need a tropical recipe for school for extra credit.
Me: How about Hawaiian Chicken? It’s easy and yummy.
Katie: Okay.

Late April:

Laura
Laura: Do you think Katie would want to babysit for us on the 7th?
Me: Probably. We have a surprise birthday party to go to, but I’m sure she would sit for you.
Laura: Great.
Me: So what are you going to do?
Laura: Bill and I are going on a date.
Me: Good for you!

Friday, May 7:

Taylor
Taylor: I’m going to Nick’s.
Me: Are you going to come to Mark’s party?
Taylor: Yeah. We’ll probably swing by at some point.

Todd
Todd: Katie just called and said there’s a leak under the sink at Bill and Laura’s.
Me: Oh, no.
Todd: She said it’s not bad. We’ll just stop on our way to Mark’s party and you can come in and see Laura’s new tile.
Me: Alright. I’ve been wanting to see it…

It went down like this: I walked up to the front door with Todd so I could "see Laura’s new tile while he checked under the sink." When the door opened up there were all these people on the stairs and in the hall yelling “Surprise!” Turns out Todd had spearheaded a surprise party for me with some of our neighbors to celebrate five years of being cancer free. Mark’s wife, Amy, was in on it, too. She happened to be throwing a surprise 40th birthday party for him on the same night and even told him he was going to my surprise party.

They got me good! I had absolutely no inkling of their diabolical plan – the bunch of consummate fibbers. They had a luau for me, hence the Hawaiian Chicken recipe Katie wrangled out of me. Todd played the guitar while Katie sang "Grace" by Saving Jane - one of my favorite songs she sings. After that Taylor played his guitar some while we all sat around, eating and laughing and just having a good time. But the fun didn’t stop there. Oh, no it didn’t. There was also a cake. A boob cake.


(I blocked out the nipples ala Girls Gone Wild commercials so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of my virtuous readers. Or reader. Whatever.)

And that', mi amigos, is Part I. I promise to endeavor to attempt to try to get Part II up in a more timely manner.

Labels: anniversaries, breast cancer, family, friends

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Thursday, May 13, 2010

IAATB - A Trilogy

Get ready 'cause it's coming. I'm starting a trilogy of posts called It's All About The Boobs. Why? Because I can. That and I figure it's better than one long post about the three separate "boob" events of the past week.



So stay tuned...

Labels: breast cancer

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Monday, May 03, 2010

Five Years Ago Today...

Five years ago today I had the life-saving surgery to remove the cancerous tumor from my body. Not only was the malignancy removed, my entire left breast was removed.

Five years ago today I had a huge incision across the concave side of my chest and a drainage tube at each end. Of course, five years ago today I didn't actually see the incision. That happened five years ago tomorrow.

Five years ago today we didn't know exactly what we were dealing with - if the cancer had spread and what kind of treatment I'd have to go through.

Five years ago today I had a lot of questions. Or at least I think I had a lot of questions. Five years ago today I was on pretty good meds so I might not have had any questions other than when I'd get the next happy pill.

Five years ago today I knew my life had been forever altered, but I had no idea to what extent. Five years ago today I figured I'd go through treatment - whatever that might mean - and eventually everything would be back to normal.

Five years ago today I was a little delusional.

Five years ago today somebody stole my pink ribbon car magnet off the back of my van while I was having a mastectomy.

Five years ago today the surgical waiting room was full of people I love with all my heart. Those people prayed for me, they told stories about me and they ate my peanut M&Ms.

Five years ago today I assured those people I love that everything would be okay as I left them at the surgical waiting room on my way back to pre-op. (I might not have been quite so magnanimous had I known they were going to eat my peanut M&Ms.)

Five years ago today I sang "I Want To Be Sedated" as they wheeled me into the operating room. At least that's the story Todd tells. With my history it's very likely.

Five years ago today my sister, Terri, and my Mother-In-Law went shopping and bought me all sorts of beautiful things to make my recovery as pleasant as possible.

More than five years ago today I believed Todd loved me and God would see us through this whole ordeal.

Five years ago today was the start of that belief turning into knowledge.

Today is a huge day for me. Five years in the life of a cancer survivor is a big thing. It's that magic day when the risk of recurrence or metastasis is reduced. I like the sound of that.

But...

Today is the day after Lynn Redgrave died from breast cancer.

Today I have breast cancer sisters with recurrences and metastases.

Today I'm thrilled to have made it to five years with my four favorite words, "No Evidence of Disease", but I can't help but think of those who haven't been so fortunate.

So...

Today I will celebrate my milestone.

Today I will enjoy the beautiful roses Todd bought me.

Today I will relish every kind comment either in person or on my Facebook status.

Today I will thank God for my good health.

And...

Sunday I will walk in the Philadelphia Race for the Cure for every woman I know who has dealt/is dealing with this disease.

Today Todd gave me a dozen red roses and five pink roses:



Today Todd gave me five more pink roses for my bedside table:



Today it's good to be me.

Crossposted at Mothers With Cancer

Labels: anniversaries, breast cancer

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Monday, April 26, 2010

Hidey Ho, There!

Let me reintroduce myself since it's been so long. My name is Jenster and I write this blog about nothing. Nice to be reconnected. So much for the old, "I'm going to write a post at least once a week", blabber. I knew I should have said once a month.

I have so much to write about. So much nothing, but so much nonetheless. I mean a lot of life-altering things, but I'm not going to go there today. Nope. I'm going to do what I do best. Whine! So grab the cheese and crackers and join me, won't you?

Let me give you a quick Jenster history since it's been so long. Five years ago I went through six months of chemotherapy for breast cancer. I had a minimum of side effects from the treatment, but my last three treatments were each delayed a week due to extremely low white blood counts. Those extremely low white blood counts gave me thrush every single time. I'd get a wicked case of the nasties, take oral medication along with a disgusting "swish and swallow" which would give me some relief, only to take another treatment and get another flare up. I never really got rid of the swelling before it would hit again. No big deal as far as side effects go, but icky.

Fast forward four-and-a-half years. I still get thrush. Or at least thrush-like symptoms. Swelling of the insides of my cheeks and lips and a swollen tongue with a lovely coating that reminds me of an old (and I mean old) Shelley Berman comedy routine about a hangover where his "tongue is hairy and his teeth itch".

Friday evening I noticed some funny looking bumps on the insides of my lips and cheeks. *sigh* I knew what was next. Sure enough, yesterday morning I woke up with the hairy tongue, but thankfully my teeth didn't itch. I told the family I wasn't going to church and proceeded to climb back into bed where I fell back into unconscious bliss and stayed there until 12:30 or so. The whole day, or what was left of it, was a big blob of absolutely nothing. Jammies all day long. Nice.

The homemade remedy for this current yuckiness? Swishing one part Maalox and one part Benadryl. Doesn't that sound appetizing? I have to be careful not to swallow it because the Benadryl puts me to sleep, though I'm definitely drinking that stuff down tonight so I can get a good night's sleep. Besides, it's now traveling down my throat. Lovely, isn't it??

On another, but similar note, I found out at my last oncology check-up that some of my bones have lost 13% density in the last two years. That does not make me happy. Not one little bit. So now I'm eating Viactin like it's candy (because that's what they want you to think) and I really, really need to start doing some strength training. Does sitting on the love seat and lifting my computer off of the floor and onto my lap count?

As "inconvenient" as these things are, though, I am richly blessed. In one week I will be celebrating my five year cancerversary - a milestone I've been looking forward to acknowledging. Some of my Mothers With Cancer have not been quite so blessed. There have been two new cases of mets in the last month or so and I just hurt for them. But these women are total rock stars! Not happy about it, of course, but their attitudes are stellar. Truly amazing.

When I think of these brave warriors I know I don't have anything to whine about. And yet... I do. 'Cause that's how I roll.

Labels: breast cancer

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Friday, March 19, 2010

I'm So Lame

You may or may not recall the goal I had set for myself back in January. Not a resolution for the new year. Homie don't play that. But I did make a goal to write on this blog and my Trippin' Through The Bible blog at least once a week. I did really well for about a week. Or maybe a month. So I'm scrapping that goal because it was a failure of epic proportions. Moving on...

My last post was about the February MOPS meeting and this post will be about the March MOPS meeting. This past Wednesday I spoke about breast cancer. I had worked on gathering the facts and figures and statistics and risks and plans and prepared a very detailed, very educational talk. It was good, too. Very informative and oh so very boring. It just didn't feel right. I'm not an educator. I'm a gabber. So Tuesday night I tossed my hard work out the window and just let it go.

I had nothing prepared for Wednesday night. No notes, no cue cards - nothing. I just told my story. The problem with that is there's a lot of story. I could easily have talked for hours and I feel almost like I did. I do know that by the time I sat down I'd been up there for somewhere around an hour, give or take. Part of that time, though, was a question and answer period at the end. These ladies asked great questions and I was more than happy to answer them. At least then I knew I was talking about what they wanted to hear.

But the talk was easy. It felt right, not forced like the more informative talk would have been. And they were such a gracious audience and made me feel like they might have actually been interested! Really!

My friend, Gail, who is a rockin' photographer extraordinaire, made boob cupcakes. Quite cute, too, with little nipples. Except for mine. Mine had a heart tattoo instead.



Aren't those great? I debated whether or not I should post the picture here because, you know, this blog has always been pretty PG. Or maybe PG-13. Definitely not R. Maybe M for mature audiences like on a video game? I dunno. Anyway, I decided to go ahead and post the picture because: a) I think the cupcakes are awesome and very appropriate to the subject matter; and b) I think her simple picture of cupcakes is artistic. OH! You should see the Cat In The Hat cupcakes she made and the pictures she took of those! Really good. I could go on and on about Gail, but then this post would be about her and not me and we all know how narcissistic and egotistical I am so I'll just leave it at that. Except to say she's really awesome. Really super and incredibly awesome.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Labels: breast cancer, MOPS, speaking

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Sunday, January 17, 2010

Randomosity

Katie's still skiing and enjoying every minute of it. Last night she called but could hardly talk because she was laughing so hard. I have no idea what was so funny, but I couldn't help giggling. I am definitely ready for her to come home, though. I miss her and I'm not ashamed to say so! Depending on the phase of her teenage girl angsty hormonal emotions when she gets home I may be ready for her to go skiing again next week, but we'll just play that one by ear.

***

Five of Taylor's buddies came over last night and ate burgers, played Wii and watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog. He wanted the guys to watch the DVD, but said he couldn't bring himself to invite his friends over for burgers and a musical. It's pretty funny stuff, though, and definitely not your average musical. Besides, half of them watch Glee so I guess they decided watching Dr. Horrible would not compromise their manliness any further.

***

Speaking of Wii, I got Todd the Wii Resort for Christmas. He's been practicing the ping pong so he can take on our neighbor, John. They talk smack to each other and everything, but it's really hard to take them seriously when you see their cute little Miis with their Aloha shirts and goofy smiles. Men Boys.

***

After months of no thrush-like symptoms, I woke up Friday morning with the insides of my cheeks swollen and my tongue more swollen than normal. I could hardly talk or eat without biting my tongue or cheeks. But there's nothing to be done about it because it's not actually thrush, just a side effect of having horrible thrush during chemo NEARLY FOUR YEARS AGO! Plech. It happens when I get worn down, but I didn't have a bad week or anything so I'm not sure why it happened this time. I didn't sleep so well for several nights so maybe that's it. I don't know. It's still swollen, but not as bad as it had been. Stupid tongue.

Just last week I was thinking about how much better I'm doing in my head than I was even a year ago. And I definitely am, but every now and again these little reminders that I'm not the same as I was before cancer pop up. I don't often think about my new normal anymore and it's kind of funny that something as benign as a swollen tongue can bring it back. But I'm very happy to say that, while it used to feel like a scab being pulled off a gaping wound, it's now just a bruise. And not even a yucky black and blue or purplish-green bruise. A barely bruise. The kind you have to look at closely to see if it's just a smudge of dirt or an actual bruise. And I have to say it feels good. But I still don't like my stupid tongue.

***

I think that's enough randomosity for the morning. I'm off to write my thoughts about the Tower of Babel, now.

Ciao!!

Labels: breast cancer, family, random

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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Are You Kidding Me??

I'm hopping mad about the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force's new recommendations on mammography and other excrement concerning breast cancer screening. These new guidelines seriously make me nauseous.

1. No mammograms until 50 and then only every other year.

* Because false positive mammograms cause undo anxiety and unnecessary biopsies.

Please forgive my insensitivity, but so-freakin-what! Isn't one woman's life worth just a little bit more than another woman's temporary anxiety? Not only that, but some mammograms scream CANCER! My oncologist took one look at my films and gave me a 95% probability of a malignancy.

Oncologist Mary Daly, chair of the clinical genetics department at Fox Chase Cancer Center in Philadelphia, said the reevaluation was flawed by its reliance on data from outmoded technology, namely film mammography. Digital mammograms, the new standard, have reduced the false-positive rate in women under 50.

* While annual mammography for all women beginning at age 40 reduced the death rate from breast cancer by at least 15 percent, the modeling studies showed the added benefit of starting before age 50 was modest, the researchers found.

Apparently the modest number of lives saved by annual mammography before 50 isn't worth anxiety and unnecessary biopsies in false-positive women.

* "... Petitti said. "Then there's the whole other line of problems that come into play, which is where there are some breast cancers detected that grow very slowly and would never have killed you."

But what about the very aggressive breast cancers, usually found in YOUNGER WOMEN? Those women have a much better chance of long-term survival when that cancer is found early.

And what about those women over 50 who have routine mammograms every year? My mother, for example. Her cancer was aggressive and if she hadn't had a mammogram until the following year there's no telling how far it would have spread.

2. [the task force] concludes that there is insufficient evidence to continue routine mammograms beyond age 74.

My mother was 73 when her cancer was found! So according to these guidelines, if her routine mammogram had been later in the year, like maybe AFTER she had turned 74, her cancer wouldn't have been found until it was much too late. What sense does this make???

3. The task force's new guidelines... also recommend against teaching women to do regular self-exams of their breasts.

Where's a punching bag when I really need one? This one slays me because here's the deal. Under the old guidelines, routine mammograms didn't start until age 40 because younger, denser breasts make it more difficult to interpret changes in the tissue. I was under 40 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Why? Because I just happened to be the patient of the best gynecologist in the entire world and he taught me how to do self-exams so I found my cancer early enough to treat it successfully. Even at that it had spread to my lymph nodes and was stage 2a, so what if I had waited until I was 40? My chances of recurrence would have greatly increased.

The whole thing just makes me want to cry. I feel like we've taken two steps back and I worry what this will mean for women. Breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer deaths in women, but the statistics have been getting increasingly better due to early detection. I'm so afraid of a backslide because of these new guidelines.

So pardon me while I drag my soap box over here and climb on.

Ladies - know your breasts!! Husbands - know your wives breasts!! Contact your doctor if you notice any of the following:

- A lump that stays the same size throughout your cycle or gets bigger
Breast changes:
- Thickening
- Swelling
- Distortion
- Tenderness
- Skin irritation
- Redness
- Scaliness
- Peau d’orange (dimpled skin resembling an orange peel)
Nipple abnormalities:
- Ulceration
- Retraction
- Spontaneous discharge

Don't freak out because chances are you don't have cancer. But don't you think it's worth a little anxiety and a needle in your boob to be safe rather than sorry?

And feel free to thumb your nose at the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force.

*Italicized sections taken from the Washington Post, Tuesday, November 17, 2009.

Labels: breast cancer, news

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Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Another Six Months

So I saw the White Russian today. As doctor’s appointments go it was fairly pleasant. My biggest complaint every time I go is that they’re too prompt and I don’t get to read nearly as much in the waiting room as I’d like to. Which was a crying shame today because I’m reading this fabulous book that Laurie Kingston, a Mothers With Cancer friend of mine, wrote: Not Done Yet: Living Through Breast Cancer. She started a blog at the time of her breast cancer diagnosis and the book is a compilation of her posts. I’ll be doing a complete review when I finish, but suffice it to say I’m thoroughly enjoying it. Kind of a weird thing to say considering it’s about her experience with breast cancer, isn't it? But she’s funny and her way of dealing with things strongly resonates with me. And that’s all you get until I finish, which could have been today if the oncologist’s office was just a little less efficient.

On the way back to the scale I asked the nurse if I could just tell her how much I weighed and if so, I’m 125. She answered with, “So am I. But you’re going to have to stand on the scale anyway.” Then we went in the room for the preliminary vitals and blood work. Because I had lymph nodes removed I can’t have blood pressure or blood draws or anything that could aggravate the lymph system and cause lymphedema in my left arm. When the nurse asked which arm I drew a total blank. For a minute I couldn’t remember which side was okay to use. We both laughed and agreed that was a great thing.

Vitals taken and blood sucked, she handed me a robe and left the room. Which meant I had to disrobe from the waist up. Which meant persons other than myself would be seeing my underarms. D’oh!! Not only are left armed vitals off limits, so is shaving the left underarm. If you’ve been around here for the last couple of years you know I went through three sessions of laser hair removal which seemed to do the trick. Except it didn’t and now I have to go back for a touch up, though I keep forgetting to make the appointment and I hardly ever Veet because it’s so inconvenient and it kind of burns, too. But do you know what I say to sparsely hairy armpits at the doctor’s office? “Whatever.”

The appointment itself was very good and almost great. I think we spent at least half the time discussing college choices for Taylor – my doctor is pushing for Penn State and laments that his girls chose Yale, Harvard and Temple. Not a huge concern for us. But this appointment was supposed to be about me so let's get back to that.

My blood work was great (surprise, surprise, my white count was on the low side of normal). My vitals were great. My tumor markers were low. Everything was as it should be which is very good. I’ll get a bone density test in January, see the doctor in March and we’ll be that much closer to my 5 years.

The one glitch in the appointment is that I will be on the Arimidex two years longer than originally prescribed. The plan had been post-chemo treatment for five years which for me was two years of Tamoxifen followed by three years of Arimidex. There’s been a new study, however, that says there’s a better success rate when the patient stays on the Arimidex for five whole years regardless of how long she had been on any other post-chemo medication. A little disappointing, but I’m not going to complain about it (at least not at the moment). It’s small beans compared to the grand scheme of things.

Finally I checked out and high tailed it for the Starbuck’s down the street for my venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip to complete my visit. Because a trip to the doctor’s isn’t over until I’m sipping that sweet nectar of life and making yummy sounds. Besides, my oncologist’s office is about 40 minutes away and I needed something for the ride home.

Labels: breast cancer, Health, reading

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Friday, August 21, 2009

Have Boobs, Will Travel

The day after my mastectomy I was released from the hospital with a nearly concave left chest and a drainage tube at each end of the incision that ran from mid-chest to under my arm, stopping just short of my back. I looked like a Cyborg.

Not until I saw my surgeon ten days later and had both tubes removed was I able to get a special bra with a puff to “even things out”. Which hadn’t been such a big deal because I really wasn’t feeling wearing anything remotely nice with plastic sucky thingies protruding from my body, but I was excited when I was finally allowed to get a post-surgical bra.

I liken it to getting a training bra. It looked kind of like one and came in sizes such as small, medium, etc. The assistant in the Women’s Resource Center looked at my ta (the singular of tatas), nodded her head and said, “Medium bra, small puff”. Whatever. I couldn’t be sad about the “small puff” comment because small was better than nothing, which is what I had on the left side. I couldn’t wait to get home and put on my new bra with the insert to see how my tops looked.

Running to my room like a kid at Christmas, I practically threw off the shirt I was wearing. I had already ripped the packaging off the puff in the car and stuffed it into the convenient pocket of my new best friend. I fastened the clasp, adjusted the straps and looked in the mirror only to be totally deflated (no pun intended). The “small puff” was too big! It didn’t even me out, it just made me lopsided in the opposite direction. So I pulled out the filling until it was just about the right size. I guess that would be extra small.

The humiliation didn’t end there, though. A couple weeks later when I received my chemo-port the professional staff had to keep asking me which side I’d had my mastectomy on. Really? I chronicled that experience here (which also includes me on drugs) because if I’m going to share one embarrassing moment I might as well go the whole way.

Finally I was given the go ahead to get a real mastectomy bra and prosthesis. Barbara Graves Intimates in Little Rock is one of the few shops in the area that have mastectomy merchandise so my friend, Beth, and I decided to go into town for dinner and a boob.

Prescription in hand, we weaved our way through the beautiful lingerie that wouldn’t work well on a uniboob and found the very pleasant fit specialist. She took us to the prosthesis room with boxes and boxes of silicone blobs and asked my cup size. I didn’t want to say Almost-a-Boob so instead I came out and told her what I was thinking.

I knew I would eventually have reconstruction and was fairly certain I would have a prophylactic mastectomy at that time. If I was going to go through all that trouble you could be sure I’d be making the surgeon earn his money. So instead of matching up my right breast I wanted to see what it would be like as a larger version of me. The problem, however, is that insurance will only pay for one prosthesis if you had a single mastectomy and those puppies are expensive.

That’s when the helpful lady told me it’s very common for women to return their “breasts” after reconstruction. The foobs (fake + boobs = foobs) are then cleaned and sterilized and given to women with no insurance. So Blue Cross/Blue Shield bought a regular foob for me and Barbara Graves donated a filler foob for the other side. And a happy day it was when I could proudly stuff my bra and not feel like a fraud.

The Girls (as Beth named them) were treated very special. Every night they had to come out of their pocket, get washed and then put to bed in their cradle. Seriously, that’s what the box was called. A cradle. Sometimes they were hot and sometimes they were heavy and sometimes they misbehaved abominably - like when I went swimming at the YMCA in my new mastectomy swimsuit and the Girls decided they’d rather swim around my waist instead of stay where they were supposed to – but for the most part they were my good friends. They did their part to make me feel a little more normal than I otherwise would have. That is until late December 2006 when I put them away for the last time and had reconstruction.

We had moved to Pennsylvania six months before my reconstruction so I wasn’t able to drop the Girls off at Barbara Graves' when I happened to be out running errands. They slept peacefully in their boxes on the shelf of my closet for two-and-a-half years. And then a month ago we drove down to Arkansas for a visit.

Instead of luggage in the back of the car, we had our dog. The luggage had to go in a special travel bag on top which had to be taken off and put inside the car during our overnight stay on the way down and the way back. Along with the luggage was a bag full of mastectomy bras and camisoles and two boxes with breast prostheses in them. When we stopped on our way down the guys were taking everything out of the bag – a bit of a pain – and I heard Todd tell Taylor, “Well at least we won’t be bringing mom’s boobs home with us.” Because, you know, they were so large and unwieldy.

While on vacation my mother and I ran into Little Rock one day and I took all the mastectomy paraphernalia with me. We drove up to Barbara Graves, I walked in with all my goodies and the attendants seemed as appreciative as if I’d donated a bajillion dollars. Or maybe a couple grand. And it made me happy. Maybe now some woman with crummy or no insurance will be able to feel a little more normal than she otherwise would have.

Cross-posted at Mother's With Cancer

Labels: breast cancer, reconstruction

Mused by Jenster :: 7:20 PM :: 14 People musing:

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Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Turning a Corner

It's nearly 11:00 and I really should be in bed, but I had to tell you this!

After about a week of restless sleeping, last night was great. I slept like a rock! But it made it very difficult to get up this morning. A couple hours of consciousness and two cups of coffee didn't make much of a dent in the heavy fog that enveloped me.

As I went about my day I kept thinking there was something significant about today - June 2nd. A tickle in the back of my mind which I just attributed to the mental sludge I waded though. There's a lot going on at work right now - two weeks of preschool camps; gearing up for Kids' Camp; services starting up in the new building this Sunday - I decided it was the organized chaos of the many activities.

And then I received the following text message from my friend, Beth:

Cancer sucks. Remembering your first chemo tx. I'm so glad it's behind you. You are a champion, my friend... Love you bunches.

That was it!! That's what I was forgetting to remember. Four years ago today I had my first chemotherapy treatment. This is the first time in that four years I haven't thought about or even remembered what was then a myriad of significant dates related to my cancer.

It may not seem like a big thing, but to me it's huge. Poor Beth felt bad for reminding me, but I'm glad she did. It felt good to realize I had forgotten just why June 2nd was significant. I'm no longer a cancer patient, I haven't been for a long time. But it's only been the last nine months or so that I've actually felt like something other than a breast cancer survivor. Today only served to prove to myself I'm really moving on.

Oh, and Beth. I love you bunches, too!!

Cross-posted at Mothers with Cancer

Labels: anniversaries, breast cancer

Mused by Jenster :: 10:48 PM :: 11 People musing:

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Sunday, May 03, 2009

Happy Cancerversary To Me

I posted this over at Mothers With Cancer and I figured, "Hey! Why not post it here, too?"

Today marks the four year anniversary of my survivorship. Everybody seems to have differing ideas of when that starts, but my family has always considered the day I had the cancer removed from my body as the day I became a survivor. So I awoke to eight red and four pink roses.

I still have times when I mourn what I've lost or get angry at how my body has aged with stiffness and arthritis, but those emotions come less and less. The events of four years ago seem surreal, almost no big deal at times. Funny how my husband never sees it that way.

But while my body has healed and my life has moved past the crisis, my head hit a little glitch. I found myself in a perpetual funk that I couldn't seem to shake. I'd never dealt with clinical depression and had always been able to pull myself out of the pit we all find ourselves in from time to time. But this time there was no escaping. I finally accepted that I was probably depressed.

When I explained my lack of interest and blase' attitude to my doctor she acknowledged what I had already figured out. Not a bad depression - it wasn't affecting my relationships (much) or my work - but a depression nonetheless. I told her how ridiculous it is when everything is so much better than it was just a couple of years ago. I wasn't depressed then, why should I be depressed now? Easy, she said. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in survival mode for so long, doing what I had to do, that now I have the time to be depressed (Greatly paraphrased here.)

I'm now on the very mildest of antidepressants and it seems to be doing the trick. I've started slowly shedding the pounds I gained with treatment and the following medical issues I had. My life is about all sorts of things other than cancer and my husband and I are training to do the Philadelphia 3Day in October.

I finally feel more like a thriver and not just a survivor!

Labels: anniversaries, breast cancer

Mused by Jenster :: 9:43 AM :: 16 People musing:

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Monday, February 02, 2009

Reaching A Goal Or Two

Todd and I have been talking about doing the Breast Cancer 3-Day for a couple of years now. Last year I knew three women who did the walk in three different cities, our own favorite, Gretchen, being one of them, and they gave me the courage to go all the way. So on Saturday Todd and I signed up to do the Breast Cancer 3-Day in October. That would be 60 miles of walking over a period of three days. That would be approximately 20 miles of walking a day. Of walking. Twenty miles. In one day.

As if that's not daunting enough, we also have to raise $2,300. Each. That would be $4,600 for both of us.

Friday night while we were just chillin' with the fam Todd looked at me and said something to the effect that $4,600 is a lot of money and it was up to me to decide whether we would do it or not. I told him we could make our choice after the meeting the next morning. But I realized I had already made my decision. I need to do this for so many reasons.

There is, of course, the big picture. 85% of the money raised goes directly to the Susan G. Komen Foundation and every advancement in breast cancer research, treatment, education and prevention in the last 25 years has been touched by a Komen for the Cure grant. This alone is worth the walk to me. The difference in breast cancer treatments between 25 years ago and when I was treated almost four years ago is staggering. While everybody wants a cure to end the disease for good, advancement in treatments are welcome by all who have to go through them.

In the last three years I have met more women who have the disease, so many of them young women with children still at home. Cancer isn't fun at any age, but the side effects of treatment for a pre-menopausal woman can rob her of the normal aging process and causes early onset osteoporosis, arthritis, and a whole host of other issues usually reserved for older women. I don't like it and I know these other young women don't like it either. So again, I want to stop this disease in its tracks.

But I have a couple personal reasons, too. For one thing, it will help me get into better shape. It will force me to walk and walk and walk some more. It will also force Todd to walk and walk and walk some more and I'm looking forward to just hanging out with him without a TV or other distractions (like my computer).

Even more than that, though, is that I feel like I have to do this for my own self. I need this challenge. I've spent so much time as a patient or being limited in some way and it's time to prove to myself that I am neither anymore.

Which brings me back to the fund raising portion. The whole point of doing this is to raise money to eradicate breast cancer. The 3Day website has some great tools, one of which is the ability to download your email contacts, edit one of their generic letters and send them all off. Todd, being a lets-do-this-thing-right-this-very-second-and-not-wait-another-second kind of guy sent out his emails Monday night. By Tuesday afternoon he had exceeded his goal thanks to some very generous friends!

He also dusted off his blog, Jenni and Me, wrote his post and made me all sniffly. One read of that post and you'll see why I like him so very much.

I'm now at the part where I hit you up with my request. I ask for your prayers. Pray that I can raise the rest of my goal; pray that Todd and I will stick with our training regimen; pray that we walk the 60 miles with no blisters or any other maladies; pray for all the other walkers; and pray for a cure.

Of course, if you would like to help me reach my goal that would be great, too! You can click on the button at the bottom of this post and it will take you to a donation page. I'll also put a button up on my side bar and just keep it up until the walk.

Labels: 3-Day, breast cancer

Mused by Jenster :: 9:52 PM :: 10 People musing:

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Saturday, January 31, 2009

Time

Crossposted at Mothers With Cancer

Todd and I will celebrate our 21st anniversary in June. Some days it doesn’t seem half that long and others it seems like our golden anniversary is just a few years away. I’ve been trying to organize all my photographs from the past 21+ years and I can’t help but linger over pictures of the kids at different stages of their lives. It’s a bittersweet thing to be sure. How did Taylor go from that six-year-old muscle man to a junior in high school considering colleges and careers? Or that adorable three-year-old girl with the curly brown hair. When did Katie turn into a 14-year-old with the confidence to sing in front of an audience of junior high and high school students?

“Cherish these moments. They won’t last long.” How often did I hear those words when my kids were small? Probably more than I can count. I listened and I DID cherish those moments. The conveyers of such wisdom were right. Each instant was over in a blink of an eye.

I love getting a glimpse of the adults Taylor and Katie are turning into. Most of the time I thoroughly enjoy hanging out with my teenagers, but sometimes I wish I could just jump in a time machine and go back to when they were little.

Time is such a funny thing. It never goes at the same speed. When you’re sitting in a boring classroom those 50 minutes seem to stretch on forever. But when you’re doing something you love it seems to breeze by. While I was looking through the photographs it hit me. I’m three months shy of the four year anniversary of my diagnosis.

That first year felt more like several years. I’d start to see the light at the end of the tunnel, only to realize it was a speeding train heading right for me. It was a frustrating year, full of immense physical and emotional struggles. I really thought once I was told there was no more cancer (never thinking I might have a metastasis or recurrence) everything would get back to normal.

But instead of normal, my family moved, settled into our new home, and then I started planning my reconstruction. Once I felt recovered from that I found myself having a complete hysterectomy with removal of my ovaries, throwing me into instant menopause for the third time. It was just one thing after another after another.
2008 was the first year since my diagnosis that was truly good. It took three years for me to get to that point and it felt like forever. But now it sometimes seems like a lifetime ago. Until I wear myself out and end up with thrush and ulcers on the roof of my mouth, courtesy of whatever funky things chemo did to me three years ago.

I don’t delude myself into thinking it will ever be forgotten. My body will always carry the battle scars as reminders. I am once again a happy and contented person except now there is a bit of mournfulness just under the surface that wasn’t there before. That has gotten better with time and I am hopeful it will someday go away - maybe when I finally and completely accept my “new normal.”

Three-and-a-half years ago, when I had just barely started down this path, I thought the journey ended after the treatment and the reconstruction and hearing the words, “No Evidence of Disease”. At that time I felt as though I was progressing so slowly and the road to the final destination would be an excruciatingly long one. What I have learned, however, is the journey never ends. Thankfully the scenery changes, though. The desert that appears never ending does finally lead to greener pastures and the journey becomes much more tolerable and eventually pleasurable.

Just like I would love to travel back in time to when my kids were little, I would love to travel back in time to four years ago; before my world changed forever. But if I were to stay in the past I would miss out on so much the present has to offer. Two incredible teenagers who make me laugh and smile and, yes, a little crazy. And a life with more wisdom and depth and even purpose than I knew before.

So if you are in the middle of the desert and are blessed to fully recover from cancer, I offer you hope. The time may drag by right now, but this too shall pass. I promise.

Labels: breast cancer, kids, Mothers With Cancer, nostalgia

Mused by Jenster :: 6:34 PM :: 7 People musing:

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Monday, January 12, 2009

Where In The World Have I Been?

Or more appropriately, where has the last week gone?? Is this what happens when you go back to work? You're actually up and out and doing things and the next thing you know, the entire week is gone and you're onto the next one? And not just the working thing, either, but Todd was in Phoenix last week which meant I was running the kids all over the place just about every night. So who has time to blog? (Sorry Lynilu!)

Saturday I worked in Katie's room with her. Holy moly, is all I'm gonna say. 'Cause really, anything else would just be mean. OH ALL RIGHT! I've just gotta say a little more. What an absolute disaster! We got a lot done, but we're far from finished. We did see - and even vacuum - a good deal of carpet that we haven't see in quite some time. That was exciting.

Saturday night I had a little bit of a meltdown. It was a cumulation of a lot of things - some big, some not so big - all related to cancer in some form or fashion. It sounds pretty lame to me considering I've been out of treatment for over three years now. It's this stinking "new normal". I don't like it. I miss the old normal. I was fairly happy with the old normal. It wasn't perfect by any means, but I was comfortable and content with who I was. Now I have a hard time seeing that same person. And not just my outward appearance, either. Even my way of thinking is different and not necessarily for the better.

I blame Beth Moore for the cryfest. My Home Team is doing her study on David and Friday we watched a video where she talked about the process of dealing with an overwhelming circumstance when you're close to God. With each step she mentioned I could see a short video of my life three-plus years ago played out and, frankly, it hurt.

I saw myself flat on the floor next to my bed, crying my heart out to God. I saw myself during the days before my surgery, praying the doctor was wrong. I saw myself as I was going through chemo, weeping and praying for success and asking to be around long enough to see my grandchildren. I saw myself when I was weak or in pain or heartbroken over my long distance marriage, praying for the strength to just get to the next day. And I saw myself following all my scans and appointment with my oncologist after my last treatment, praising God and thanking Him for getting me through it all.

Try as I might to go to my happy place and ignore Beth Moore altogether, I couldn't do it and I ended up in tears. Stupid Beth Moore. Stupid leaky eyes. But what great friends I have to love me despite my little emotional outburst.

After that I was kept pretty busy and didn't have a lot of time to think about and process the lesson. But deep inside I knew it would happen because there are some things I'm still dealing with that make me very sad, though I tend to just push those matters to the back. But Beth had opened the door and by Saturday night the door flew open and it all came spilling out. Poor Todd. Or I should say poor, wonderful Todd.

There is, as usual, much more to the story that I'm not willing to share. Some things are just too personal (she who wrote nearly every detail of her breast reconstruction says). At least for right now. Some day it will be written down for all to read, though. Because nobody ever told me it would be like this and though I realize everybody is different, I'm finding out these taboo issues are common among survivors.

Not surprisingly, I slept really well Saturday night! And last night, too. I had the hardest time getting out of the bed this morning. Not only that, but I'm just about to admit I'm getting sick. So far I've managed to deny it to myself and everyone else, but the sandpaper in my throat can be ignored for only so long. And now it's after 11:00 and I have to get up early tomorrow!! Because, you know, I'm still working toward that Mother Of The Year thing. Only 352 days left! But I have to say, each freezing morning I get up and out early enough to drive my kids the half a block to the bus stop the less appealing the award is looking to me.

So there you have it. That's where I've been. Right here, doing my thing - whatever that may be.

Labels: awards, breast cancer, homies, reconstruction, sick, whiney

Mused by Jenster :: 10:01 PM :: 9 People musing:

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Friday, October 31, 2008

Breast Cancer Awareness Month Grand Finale

Labels: breast cancer

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Sunday, October 26, 2008

Do You Know?

Today I watched Living Proof and Why I Wore Lipstick to my Mastectomy - both movies about breast cancer. Both GREAT movies about breast cancer. A little hard to watch, but very hopeful and inspiring for different reasons. I'll get into that in another post because they are worth telling you about. I don't have it in me this evening, but I have written today.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer I had no idea what I was in store for. I knew the generals about surgery because I'd had plenty before. I thought I knew about chemotherapy and I also thought this was all just a detour in the road. I found out it wasn't just a detour, but a whole new direction.

I wrote Who Knew? - a post about what I learned - for the Clear blog.

Labels: blog, breast cancer, movies

Mused by Jenster :: 6:31 PM :: 2 People musing:

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Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Stepping Into The Ring

I have a new post up at CLEAR - The Blog.

Labels: breast cancer, CLEAR

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Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Speaking of Writing...

I have my first post as a guest author up at CLEAR - The Blog.

Labels: breast cancer, church, CLEAR, writing

Mused by Jenster :: 10:41 AM :: 0 People musing:

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