I need new glasses

Good morning. My arms are just waking up. The tuck & roll just ever so lightly causing discomfort. I've GOT to get new glasses. The letters on the screen are all blurred, I'm typing from memory, hope it's not total crap.I've been away for awhile.  Just a mental vacation. Took a break from the pokes and clip boards to normalize my life. "Good luck with that one" rattles in my head. Now I realize that it's the journaling that keeps me normal. So much has happened, so here goes.

The minnow (Tom nicknamed my car after the tour boat from Gilligan's Island - another story) splits a thick blanket of fog as I approach the freeway. This stretch of I-5 gets the most traffic yet there is always plenty of space to merge between the inter-state eighteen wheelers and the blue haired hat drivers. Being a new card caring member of the blue hairs I confidently hit the gas and make my move.  Similarly to typing this journal I blindly maintain speed and set my course towards work.  Being half city-town and half country almost anything can pop up on the highway. I expect a deer, a skunk or a homeless man pushing a wooden cart but what happened on this morning caught me totally by surprise. While I'm maintaining a respectable speed in the right lane the fog plays games and swirls, thickens, rises then Thunks on my windshield. Nothing. I continue to drive neck stretched forward, eyes fast on the road ahead, carefully watching for the next exit. In the distance the fog thins and I see movement on the road, I slow and pump my brakes to warn those behind me that I'm changing speed. It is very silent, only road noise in my ears.  Then I see it. Standing firm, holding his ground, daring me to make my move.  All time seemed to stop as I approached this beautiful creature in the road. He was not confused, just caught in the fog on the wrong side of the road.  He knew what he had to do. Morning came without a warning and he lost track of time and found himself in the commuter lane. Wise and agile the coyote stepped aside, He watched me carefully as I passed. Our eyes met, his golden and alert.  My first bit of visual clarity in years. I saw every bristly thread of his mane, the deep thick coat and bushy tail, the hot breath in the fog.  I felt alive and hopeful for the coyote. It was surreal.

The fog hung around all day, but the next morning I saw no evidence on the side of the road that the creature hadn't successfully navigated the asphalt river. I saw hawks and turkey vultures, but no coyote or coyote remains. I'm pleased and angry at the same time. Pleases that nature works and angry that this creature had to face the minnow, knowing it wasn't a fair fight.

This minor experience reminds me that I really need to get new glasses. Or does it mean I need to take off my blinders? Whatever. I did resolve to being more aware of the world around me.  The world, it seems, has thrown down the gauntlet. I rescheduled my physical therapy, saw my radiologist, am meeting with my oncologist, had a bone density scan, started taking hormone inhibitors, scheduled my next (left) mammogram, and will  soon be seeing Dr. K-H to re initiate the chest expansion process. Oh boy. Gotta get new glasses, this new world is really worth seeing.

It's a new day happy New Year: 2011

It's a new dawn.  It's a new day. And I'm FEELING gooooood.

Stayed up as late as I could then had a restful sleep. The New Year has arrived - although we had snow flurries last night the sun is shinning brightly this morning and a strong wind assaults the house and everything around it. It feels fresh and stings like sea breeze. All the old carried away with the fall leaves and branches.  The sun warms the rooftops which hiss and steam. A single bird perched on the pitched roof stands firm against the wind. Could it be a woodpecker? In an instant it's gone. 

Tom and I have been enjoying the bird show on our deck. Attracted to sunflower seeds the large ones line up in the bare sycamore and take turns while the little ones peck at the seconds tossed about underneath. Joey doesn't mind them at all. The local televised farmer says that providing water is just as important as seed. So we placed a water dish out.  No activity there. The neighboring birdbath meets those particular needs I suppose.

I mention this all only because of my new year resolution.  I resolve to be more conscience of my world. Not  necessarily the news or current events, but the physical space I occupy, the impact of my being, what I leave in my wake, how I influence the future.

I kept waiting for a BIG change in my life.  Well.....That certainly  happened. But I didn't feel changed by it, only challenged and daunted, and exhausted. 2010 didn't make me a better person. I thought I would wake up one morning and feel ...something new inside. Something that would carry me through the rest of my life, because, after all, I just went to hell and back and it should mean something!! I remember thinking there were angels all around me.  So I resolve to being more patient, and purposeful, more giving and less expectant, more caring and less judgmental. This will not happen naturally.  I will have to make it happen. I expect to brave my own instincts, like the bird on the pitched roof, and fight against what's easy, even if I get blown away, I resolve to try.

Happy New Year.  Welcome 2011. This little Woodpecker eats black-eyed peas and sends love, hugs and kisses to you all.

Major Pain: May 25, 2010

Tuesday, May 25, 2010 7:31 PM, CDT

Thank you for getting your mammograms. I'd like to share some thoughts on pain: Although I have had the normal growing and aging pains I don't believe I have ever really lived with pain. It was clear to me the moment of my first needle biopsy that I never really experienced pain. I am now managing pain. It sucks. I worry that I will get hooked on my pain meds. I experimented and learned I can't maintain without my pain meds. It sucks. I know I will get over my pain, but now I understand I now know what I fear, the pain. 

My pain isn't what I expected it would be. It goes beyond localized hurt, it's deeper and unlocalized, it's cold, dull and gray. It doesn't throb, it's sneeky and crawls, it occassionaly and unexpectedly jabs and stabs-then hides behind needle pricks. My pain changes my mood, my energy my appetite and zaps me of confidence and motivation. I've had to learn to "get in front of the pain". New concept for me..do not wait for the pain and take the meds...take the meds before you need them. I was told that effectively managing the pain decreases the recovery time by 50%.  It wasn't until I was told this that I understood that I need to stay in front of the pain. Pain is such a pain. Geeze...I'm rambling....must be time for my meds.

Typical, I'm embarrased to call and ask for a refill. What's that all about?  I've identified  my need to be strong and stay in front of the pain.

I appreciate everyone's offer to come and help.  Right now I'm doing well (staying in front of the pain).  I will get my Chemo schedule this Thursday and will have a better idea if and when I may need help. But I'm always open to company.  Radiation therapy will be 5/days a week, for 6 weeks after the Chemo therapy, several months away. I've decided I will take off 2 weeks from work during radiation, probably the last 2 weeks.  I expect some major pain management will be in order. 

Don't want to be a PAIN, but if you haven't gotten your exam, please do not wait, do not hesitate, be good to yourself and Get-er-done.   Love you!! 

May 21, 2010

Friday, May 21, 2010 8:44 PM, CDT

Had a new experience with Dr.Kennedy-hair. I was in the exam room trying to remove my sweater-it was taking a bit of time and my earings kept hanging up on the collar.  With most of it off but awkwardly entanged who should walk in on me?...Yes. He must think I'm challenged in the dressing myself department. With a team of lovely student nurses looking  on (they were all shinely and new) Dr. K-H raised a chain and positioned it over my chest.  The chain wavered and like a divining rod located the location of the expander port nestled in my chest wall. With no more than a tiny needle prick I received two whole ounces of saline, the first of many deposits to reserve room for the future implant. 

Met with the radioligist today.  Another beautiful 13 year old professional. We talked for about 2 hours about my diagnosis, current treatment and what to expect when it's time to receive radiation. 5 treatments a week for 6 weeks. Radiation to the chest wall and lymp nodes in my neck. I learned a lot and have options although gently encouraged to go the chemo/radiation path. Again, sometimes this and sometimes that . . it's all a mystery and we have to wait and see.  At least I was able to undress and dress without incident.

Back to work: May 19, 2010

Wednesday, May 19, 2010 8:58 PM, CDT

Yes, I'm back to work. I've learned what I can and can't do. But I mostly sit at a desk: type, talk and shuffle papers. I shuffle the best I can through the halls trying to be inconspicuous. It's very therapeutic for me to keep busy.  It's a good thing day time TV is so terrible. My arm is feeling MUCH better. Going commando was the best idea I've had so far.  The swelling has gone down, the tingle in my neck and shoulder is totally gone but my skin is still sensitive - which may just be the nerves waking up.  I take a 20 minute power nap at lunch time (close the door, turn off the light and put my feet up) followed by a brisk walk around the parking lot.  Today the Janitorial Manager assigned me my own bathroom which he will personally sanitize daily.  Nice. Sleep is coming easy. I have my first injection tomorrow to start the "stretching" process in preparation for an implant. Friday is my first visit with the radiologist/oncologist - just a consultation, radiation won't happen for several months.  More hurry up an wait, but at least I'm busy.  Love You All!!!

Sans-A-Boob May 19, 2010

Wednesday, May 19, 2010 9:09 AM, CDT

Okay, can't always have good days. Monday, back to work was fine.  No problem.  Yesterday was more difficult, I may have overdone it.  Today I'm going"Sans-a-boob", meaning I'm not wearing a camisole, sports bra or any type of fake breast.  The elastic bands around my chest and under arm are too irritating and causes me great discomfort. So I'm going Commando above the waiste. Nice. Turtle neck jersey, loose over blouse with a shiney neckace (to distract), jeans and boots.  Not exactly corporate, but warm and comfy.  I expect to kick some "A" today, get some work done.  Looking forward to the physical therapy - doing my exercises,  have good range of motion this morning. I can put my hand behind my head without pain. Keeping my eye on my drug intake - will kep it real. 

Big Bed: May 16, 2010

Sunday, May 16, 2010 10:14 AM, CDT

Big Bed: Had a difficult night. My skin (tummy, chest & arm) is sensitive, feels like I have a sunburn.  Clothes irritate and sleeping was tough.  My head hurts, my arm is stiff, burning with pin and needles. Someone is stepping on my chest. Dag Nab-It!!  I thought I was getting better. Tears streaming down my cheeks, Tom brought me the drugs.  I learned our big bed works better on my back and now have a step stool to get into it. I no longer flop and flip, I wish I could, but it's so nice to be back in the big bed. Feeling like I may not be able to return to work tomorrow...just one day at a time.

Underwear May 15, 2010

Saturday, May 15, 2010 9:03 PM, CDT

Feeling funny all under: I have to share my underwear story. My navigator insisted I needed to purchase a special post surgery under garment that would house my little buddies and keep me together. It was expensive and totally useless. I only had to pay  the $25.00 copay but feel especially cheated when I bought the perfect post surgery outfit for $12.00 at Wal-Mart. Getting ready to leave I chose to put my own underwear (panties) on instead of waiting for assistance.  Why would I need anyone to help me put on my underwear?  I didn't fully appreciate at the time how inflicted my right arm was. I was still protecting my chest. As I stood with my hospital gown wide open in the back (untied) I attempted to step into my panties. It was then I realized I had a very limited range of motion. I managed to pull up my panties up my left leg, while the right side stubborning clung to my leg below my knee.  With my left hand, under the hospital gown I pulled and got my hand tangled in the elastic and in a very compromising position heard.."Do you need some help?"  It was Dr. Kennedy-Hair looking on with a twisted smirk..holding in a laugh.  I babbled something about how stupid I must be if I can't even put on my panties ... we shared a moment of shrugged shoulders, raised eyebrows as if to answer... I don't know, how stupied must I be. I managed to untangle my hand and cover my ass.  He dismissed himself and I continued my struggle when Carl (the ever wonderful CNA) came in to help.  He was sweet-holding my gown closed as I shuffled (panties at my knees) to the bathroom to sit down on the toilet to catch my breath.

Later when it came time to dress for my departure The Nurse came into help me with the bubbles.  She was going to pin the tubes to my shirt . . . but NO!  I have a camisole!  So Tom and the Nurse worked diligently to corset me into this poorly designed contraption.  I had to step into it. The three of us pulled and tugged to get the elastic banded empire waist over my big old butt.  The elastic band included a velcro band that convienienty helf two little round "pockets" for the bubbles. Geeze...the velcro attached itself to my panties, the body of the camisol folded and twisted around the bra top...after some good heave-hos & POP, the whole garment was successfully twisted at my middrif. Now my arms needed to go into the shoulder straps.  RIGHT. Remember, no range of motion. After several attempst the three of us under the watchful eye of Carl got me stapped in - pockets in place and tubes tightly tucked away.  All this could have been easily accomplished with my front loading pocketed bed jacket.  Who knew? I will be returning the camisole with a note to the maker as to why the velcro sucks, the pockets suck, the shoulder straps suck, the empire elastic band sucks, the giant puffy boobs make for a wonderful seatbelt protector.  Wal-Mart, again, came to my rescure with a $11.00 sports bra that snaps in the front, it's wide enough under my arm to hold in the back fat reminent that currently has nothing to support it (used to be held by the breast). So easy to put on, no pulling or pulling- it holds a nice little fake breast and makes me feel good all under.  I went shopping and felt nearer to normal.  Gotta remember to not over do it. 

Braless in SO May 12, 2010

Wednesday, May 12, 2010 4:35 PM, PDT

Bye Bye Buddies,  I really hate to see you go.  Bye Bye              B U D D I E S!! ......no this is not some bizarre Broadway tribute to bubble pocket pals, just a sigh of releif.  With just a little coaxing Dr.Berekely-girl pulled the extra plug and emancipated this home girl.  Doing so well, no tape..no tubes..no pocket buddies. I almost feel pretty.
So now what?  More waiting.  In a few weeks I'll return to the oncologist for a new game plan to include Chemo and radiation.  Looks like many more months to come.  The right arm is still a bit weird-in a deep sleep, slowly waking up.  Tingle and pin pricks, total absence of feeling. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't.  I still feel very protective to the shoulder, the chest, and find I keep my elbow in and wrist raised to my waist level. I'll get over it.  No problem typing (has nothing to do with content and spelling). Nice celebraton, the sun made a showing and the evening is delightful. Braless in Southern Oregon. I will try to drive this weekend to see how well I may do making the 45 minute drive to Grants Pass next week. At least it's a straight road with very little variations.  The seatbelt will be challenging especially now that the local police have announced a new dedication to the CLICK-IT or TICKET law and will be on the lookout for violaters.  I will need to break out the big boob pads included with the camisole for extra padding.  ...Sorry officer I pulled over to the side of the road because my boob pad slipped and the seatbelt snapped . . . . . and Ouch !!  I wonder if Dr.Kennedy hair will give a note authorizing Sansa-belt driving.

Love to Jackie for being there, again.  Girl I owe you. 
Thank you Sara and Norm for the goodies. I plan on many mornings brunching on the deck.  Yumm.. Yumm. 
Ladies & Gents at work-The bonzai garden will be a morning reminder that Angels live all around us and life is good.  Thank You. 
Bye Bye Buddies!! Hello PORT - life goes on. 

Ninja and pocket buddies May 10, 2010

Monday, May 10, 2010 4:43 PM, PDT

Pocket Buddies.
Week two. It's been a week since my surgery. I'm doing really well, but still very tired. Last night I had 4 1/2 hour of uninterrupted sleep. Since the hospital I was either waken or woke up on my own at least every two hours.  I don't think I have had any REM sleep and today my body is begging for it. Jackie and I had another nice day just being sisters.  When she left to help a friend I  went down hard.
I have two little pocket buddies, these granade shaped bulbs (drainage tubes) attached to my back remind me of the Cyborg movies.  It's weird how there are no bandages, just a single strip of tape over the major incision. The pocket buddies tubing comes directly out of my skin. The only discomfort is when there is a little tug, mainly when I forget they are there and try to reposition or travel about the house.  With good luck these little buddies will be removed this week which will allow me more freedom. I just can't see going out and about with these tucked into my pocket.  Although I could, I just don't want to. That brings me to my Ninja suits.  I really scored on these comfy outfits I picked up at (of all places) Walmart.  Soft cotton jersey top and bottoms with all the qualities for the occassion:  1) Buttons in Front - the buttons are LARGE @ 1 inch buttons making it easy to put on, over the buddies, and easily buttoned with one hand.  2)  3/4 Length sleaves - cool, yet covers most the arm - sleaves stay out of the way at the sink - no wet cuffs.  3) Soft cotton threaded seams - no scratching, not lumps can't even feel them  4) Large outer pockets for my buddies.  These pockets also create a pocket on the INSIDE - so I can put the buddies on the inside - NEAT!  5) soft wide covered waist band pants-wide leg make it easy to pull up with one hand, if needed. Soft draw string if needed.  6) short pant length-jodpurs. No tripping over cuffs, easy to slip over shoes, cool and breathable.  They can be worn indoors, outdoors, to the store or to bed.  Really nice. I bought 3 sets.  Funny little lady clothes but with a few beads and fashion sandles better than my alternative (old running T-shirts and wholly sweats).  These will be good during Chemo with a camisole . I plan on getting some BIG danggly earrings and a loud glittery tote bag to accent wigs, hats, and scarfs.  Going for the big girl look.

Happy Mothers Day: May 9, 2010

Sunday, May 9, 2010 6:10 AM, PDT

Happy Mothers Day to all.  It is a beautiful blue sky morning.  I woke myself up before Tom could get to my bedside.  I feel great.  Had a difficult night, worried that I over-dosed myself on pain meds and antibiotics.  But there is no arguing with a sleepy self and I needed something to worry about. So I woke up every 2 hours to see if I made it alive. Yep, I'm still here. I may have exercised my right arm a little too much yesterday and focused on a new pain in the center or my chest. The skin fold allows for some stretching  but I may have overdone it. Today the feeling in my arm has mostly returned and I there is no swelling. Good.

Following I'm going to go into my hospital experience. I don't recommend you read it unless you are SOOO bored and really have nothing better to do.  But I do want to document the time as remembered by a drugged out Semi-Senior (or senior in training-I think 55 is the official age of dementia) So here goes:

We woke early Tuesday for the 5:30am registration time. I packed a small bag to include books, change of clothes , personal toilet items. After Tom's coffee we rose to our feet and looked at one another, squared our shoulders and proceeded to the garage. We drove silently to the hospital, after a brief reminder of which way to go (where are we going today..is it RVMC or Providence? the destinations are all blending). We recalculated and headed towards the main entrance.
We were met by the predictable volunteer who happily and with great gusto escorted us to the intercom-ed door to the surgery waiting area. After a brief wait Vada Nichols was called and we entered the sterile and orderly environment we had toured just the day before.  That was a good idea. I felt confident I was in good hands. The surgery attendant even remembered us from the day before. Nice. It's weird that I'm getting a little weak and nervous as I write this down. Tom was with me when a nurse respectfully pulled the shoulder of my newly dawned hospital gown to expose by right breast.  She applied a very thick white cream to my nipple without ever really touching me (Neat trick) while Tom looked on. In the wrong context this could have appeared very kinky. THEN she siran wrapped the whole thing like a hostess cupcake and covered me up.  This was numbing cream in preparation for the needle pricks-toxic chemical injections.  The cream needed an hour to really sink in. I don't remember the details, but an IV was inserted in my left hand and I believe some drugs may have been added because I do remember giggling while Tom looked wide-eyed and surprised at my new disposition.  I was instructed to lie down and was covered with a warm blanket. Hmmm..warm blankets.  That's the ticket.  Hostess cupcake all warm and melty. I closed my eyes and saw a square clown head- it made me laugh. The bed was wheeled through doors and down hallways.  I watched the ceiling tiles change form modern white tiles to stained yellow ones, I knew I had left the new surgery center.  I was met by a nice young man who explained he was going to insert a needle into by breast, just around the nipple. It was done.  I felt nothing. More waiting. Now it gets really vague. I don't know where Tom is. Surgery time, I'm wheeled into the operating room.  I look around it is bright, very large room, with many people busy checking equipment, setting the table, washing dishes (that's what I thought, anyway). with a heave and ho I was transferred to an ironing board and strapped down so I wouldn't fall off. Young ladies were speaking to each other in a familiar and casual manner (did I hear the clinking of wine glasses?) could have been about the previous evenings exploits. Out of nowhere a friendly face drops down into sight, smiles and says. .(what?) . .I see a plastic face mask approaching slowly....next thing I know I'm groggy and giggly and speaking to Tom. I guess I was on the table for about 3 hours and 45 minutes?? Not sure, doesn't really matter, to me anyway.  It was torture for Tom and Jackie. Maybe they should offer drugs to the family members.   - well that's enough for now. I'll continue the hospital adventure later. 

Now I'm sleepy again. The sun has gone behind a cloud and the room is in shadows. I feel good. I feel safe at home. I feel loved.  Happy Moms day to me. Yeah, happy moms day to me. 

Nap time May 8, 2010

Saturday, May 8, 2010 11:34 AM, PDT

I'm Back.
Home again, home again jigg-y-dy jig. The past few days have been  interesting to say the least. It'a all behind me, just a gray memory, a fuzzy dream. For the record I'll go into what I remember later. But first want to share that I felt all the love and wishes from the sisterhood of the traveling red jacket.  You all gave me strength-it worked, I feel strong and ready for Phase II.

Yesterday was a beautiful day. Jackie and I spent a nice quiet day together. Jackie took good care of me while Tom returned to work for a few hours. 72 degrees on the deck ,I enjoyed a PB&J, a Drummy fruit cup and sun chips.  I haven't lost my appetite.  Altough I have lost 8 pounds, I'm enjoying small meals of simple foods.  I realized this morning how much I enjoy, I mean reall enjoy, a cup of coffee.

I mentioned it was a beautiful day, but not perfect. I was surprised to receive a call from my surgeon so soon, but the pathology lab results came in. The node cluster that was removed (18) tested positive for cancer.  This means chemo, radiation then hormone treatment.  It's going to be a long haul. Dr. Kennedy-hair will hold off on the reconstruction until after the treatments.  I finally took a good look at my chest.  It's not a preatty picture, but it's interesting. I mean really amazing. You can see that the surgeon left as much skin as possible. It's sort of like a deflated tire.
Tom has discovered he is a natural care provider. He is so wonderful. Turned in the walkie talkies and now focused on my medical needs, keeping the house clean and finding creative ways to assure I'm comfortable and safe. Life is good - it is exhausting, but good.  I feel good. but just gotta remember to not do too much. Need a nap.

Smile, be happy. May 3, 2010

Monday, May 3, 2010 1:38 PM, CDT

Back from Pre-Op, I chose a festive spring salmon tunic with wranglers-to offset the walkie talkies, flats and some sparkely bobbels & beads. I was greated like the queen on coronation day. No change to my diagnosis, no change in the schedule - 5:00 AM tomoorow it is.  All looks good, nodes and lumps as we last left them.  Again, no news is good news. The navigator walked us through the front doors, of the hospital. Because of the early morning  schedule we wanted to be sure we knew our way around.  No surprises.  Lovely volunteers will sign us in (there is always someone there-I'll have to remember to be a hospital volunteer someday) and escort us to the surgery unit.  Tom needed a lay of land. Where will he sit? How far can he go in the process with me? What will he do?? I suggest a good book. So as it goes, Tom can stay with me up to the point of surgery. Then there is a nice seperate waiting room with private consultation rooms for doctors to meet family members aftwerwards. I get to take relaxing drugs and lie on my back under warm blankets while the practiced miricle workers set the stage for action.  Wheel me here, there and BAMMM I'm down and under. Not looking for the extra soreness of the implant. Oh vanity. Didn't know I had it in me.
As we left the hospital tour and ran some errands I took note of the gloomy weather. Tom returned to work and I look around and see all the little tasks left undone and begin to worry.  My stomach hurts, I feel a little queezy, I didn't sleep well at all last night and expect the same tonight. Smile..Be Happy.."B"called.

If it sqawks like a duck.... May 2, 2010

Sunday, May 2, 2010 5:29 PM, CDT

Sunday: All my laundry is done. The guest bedroom underwent a mini-make over...looks like control central.  TV..Work laptop..Blackberry..Cell Phone..Personal laptop..clock radio..chargers..Ohhh yes, and a camouflage walkie-talkie that squawks like a duck.  Tom, the dear, went from a baby monitor to hunting gear. He's being helpful. I'm covered.

Tomorrow is the Pre-Op meeting with the surgeon at 9:30 then a hospital walk through with the navigator.  What does one wear to a pre-op? I wonder if I can take my walkie talkie?

A Parisole? May 1, 2010

Saturday, May 1, 2010 8:44 PM, CDT

Went to the Comfort Zone this morning to purchase my camisole (or as Tom calls it, parisole). It's a hot little number with velcro pockets for drainage tubes and soft poofy inserts that are bigger than my butt. My poor little boobies just sadly hang there under the clingy flesh colored fabric. Good grief, I was "fitted" for a large.  I pity the fool who is an extra large. I was too embarrased to wear my ill fitting bras or share my bra size so I wore a flattening sport bra thingy and claimed I didn't know my size. The fitter, a very nice lady, was confused as she sized up my flattened chest and big 'ol broad back.  We shared a smile and giggled at the puffy inserts. It was a cool experience.  Oh yeah, my insurance paid for it.  $65.00!!!!  Sad but true, there were 5 other women there being fitted for post operative underwear. 

Back to the drawing board. May 1, 2010

Saturday, May 1, 2010 8:11 PM, CDT

Back to drawing board:

The last few weeks have been interesting, to say the least. The MRI results came back and there is good news.  The tumor does not appear to be attached to the chest wall as originally thought.  Bad news, there is another (tiny, itsy bitsy) tumor in front of the known one.  What this means is the lumpectomy would have to be more severe and wouldn’t leave me with much of a breast.  So, back to the drawing board.  Let’s throw all the plans, appointments, schedules and treatments out the window and start ALL over again.  So what does this mean?

Recommend the full Monty:

It is now recommended to go with the simple mastectomy.  Okay. No chemo? But I have all these adorable hats!  No radiation? Well maybe chemo, maybe chemo and radiation, maybe radiation only maybe, maybe, maybe.  It all depends on the lymph node biopsy during the surgery.  If the cancer is present in the sentinel nodes, then more nodes will be “taken” and sent to pathology (results in about a week). If no cancer then maybe this, or maybe that. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It all depends.

So I can’t fret over all these maybes.  I will just forge ahead; ask questions but stay off the internet. But I couldn’t help myself. I read up on reconstructive surgery and decided it was an option I needed to consider. Why not?  If I’m a good candidate (healthy in all other respects), my insurance (by law) has to pay for it…let’s think big!  The full Monty.

What are we talking about here?  Dolly Parton? I think not.  How about a little lift and a little extra on top?  Just once I’d like to show a little cleavage. So I contact my navigator and ask her to set me up with an appointment.   OOOOppps – there are a lot of maybes thrown at me. 

As time goes by:

Okay, so I started this adventure April 1st. It’s now May 1st.  I still have my lump, my breast, my hair, my poor sleeping habits and a growing anxiety.  I’m now so impatient I want to strip naked and walk into the hospital and shout “take it, take it off-get me out of the this cancer suit”.  If the cancer doesn’t get me, the waiting will.  I realize the whole mastectomy thing is really very simple. If it were my gall bladder (what is a gall, anyway?) I wouldn’t hesitate or be fearful, but the removal of a breast is so visible.  Am I starting to fear this operation – well, give me enough time to dwell on it I will. 

It’s funny to me. We see it every day, pink this and that.  We all know someone with breast cancer and yet we continue to celebrate the boob. Hooters, Jugs, fun bags, rack, etc., etc., etc., yet it’s these mammary glands that are betraying women everywhere.  The hormones that make us the nurturing mothers, compassionate care givers and domestic protectors of hearth and home are killing us.  So after we nurse what do we need them for? 

They just look so nice in a bikini! 

Yeah, but what about my butt?

Cup in hand:

Tom and I visited the plastic surgeon.  Good Lordy-Be is he ever adorable.  Thirteen years old, amazing blue eyes, full head of (Kennedy) hair, beautiful teeth and smile-not too big, simply adorable.

The nurse, however, was SCARY!! 10 feet 26 Inches tall, witch black hair all poofed up and cascading down her back (very long hair), obvious work done on her face – it was good work, but she looked like a Barbie doll – couldn’t see any expression.  Turned out, though, she was sweet and found the opportunity to comfort me during the photo session.  YES!!! The medical community now has lovely color images of my dense little breast front and sideways.  They better not show up on YouTube someday.

So Mr. Kennedy-Hair pulls up a chair and with practiced sincerity goes through the pamphlets, drawings, molds, models, and diagrams.  Tom studies the drawings with only one question in mind.  Will he be on standby for same day reconstruction should the lymph nodes prove to be clean of cancer? Yes. He will be there.  Good.

So this is how it works:

With my surgery scheduled for Tuesday, May 3rd I check in at 5:00 am.  No food or drink after midnight the night before -  Like what would I do, eat a box of Cheese-Nips?, maybe.  What I understand is the doctors come in and sign the breast that is to removed so there is no confusion on the table.  But first I have a topical numbing ointment applied to the breast in preparation for some injections around the nipple. A toxic substance is injected around the nipple that will travel through the lymph system mapping the location of the nodes. During the surgery the doctor uses a hand held detector to locate the nodes for removal.  The sentinel nodes (the first 3) are removed and biopsied immediately. If no cancer is discovered the plastic surgeon will step in and implant an expander (after the removal of the nipple and breast tissue).  The expander is a hard plastic breast implant with a port.  After recovery I will return on a regular schedule to have fluid pumped into the implant.  After the desired results are achieved, a second surgery is scheduled to remove the expander and implant the soft breast implant.  At this time I can have the “good” breast augmented to match the new and improved one.  Neat.

If cancer is discovered in the lymph nodes (maybe, again), this type of implant won’t work if I require radiation.  Since radiation changes the cell structure of the skin, healing is difficult and infection almost certain.  And so, back to the drawing board.  Reconstruction is postponed for after radiation and/or chemo therapy and a whole different technique that includes skin and muscle removal from the back and grafted to the chest.  Now…I hesitate. Do I really need a boob? I haven’t worn a bikini --- EVER! I wonder if my insurance would approve a buttectomy.

Waiting: April 10, 2010

Saturday, April 10, 2010 8:09 PM, CDT

Annie’s adventures in oncology:   Waiting

It’s Sunday.  I have my MRI scheduled for Wednesday, 7:00am.  This is good, I’ll be able to go straight to work from there.  I’ve been working with my staff training them on the routine things I do and seeing that they get signed up for appropriate trainings.  I expect I will be focusing on writing the policy manual and job description updates I’ve been putting off.  I still need to get a handle on the group retirement plan and new COBRA/ARRA laws.  This I can do from home mostly.  I don’t really like working from home. The day goes too fast and I really don’t feel as productive.  

I keep waiting for an energy burst.  I have this idea in my head that an instinct similar to the nesting instinct will take over and I will be motivated to dust, mop, arrange, organize and sort.  But it hasn’t come. On the contrary I have to force myself to change my routine. Sundays are for vegging around here. I want to be more organized, ready for the inevitable, prepared to meet what this adventure has in store for me.  Also, to prepare Tom for his new role. 

I bought some moisturizing gloves.  My hands are so dry and my fingernails a mess.  I need to get my skin healthy.  I love these gloves!!  Why haven’t I done this before?  Don’t know.  Guess it’s about not spending money on me. Tom wants a pair. Cute.

Do I go ahead and color my hair now?  Cover the gray or let it go?  Think I’ll color my hair today, after I disinfect the laundry room.  This is me waiting for an energy burst.

Put a pork roast in the crock pot.  Thinking about cutting up veggies and freezing them in crock pot ready bags for easy meals.  Throw in some frozen chicken breast, a veggie bag and a few herbs and spices in the morning, dinner ready. Tom doesn’t want me around any knives.  I’m not good with knives.  Me and sharp things have a history. 

Dusted off the treadmill.  30 minutes.  It’s a start. 

Replaced my glass of wine with a glass or orange juice.

Monday:

Going to work –told myself to be happy. After I decided to be happy it really was quite easy.  I’m happy I painted my kitchen Granny Smith Apple green.  Tossed the bras, bought some sports bras…now that’s happy.   30 minutes on the treadmill.  O.J.

Bailey will be meeting us in Las Vegas and travel to 29 Palms with us.  Now that makes me happy. 

March Madness – hey, it’s April already.   I’m still waiting.

New Week: Oh my M.R.I. 

Geeze!  I didn’t know I had claustrophobia.  I really didn’t.  Maybe I don’t.  Maybe the M.R.I. is just a torture devise to test my will…my commitment. 

Long story short, I spent all of 3 seconds in the (old fashioned tube style) torture chamber before my arms and legs involuntarily jerked, my eyes rolled back, my heart jumped into my throat.  Holly COW,  I didn’t know I had claustrophobia. 

Funny seeing Jackie peaking around the corner, wanting to help, I could see the concern on her face when the technician cautioned her “ do not come past the door”.  I was shaken.  She was there.  Thank you Jackie!!!

Had the MRI rescheduled for the next day- an OPEN MRI.  It was a breeze.  Well, the drugs did help. I assured I had a good night sleep by taking some Tylenol PM, skipped the morning coffee and had my PCP prescribe some anti-anxiety drugs – NICE.  Was a little loopy afterwards, so I just went home and relaxed. 

Note to self:  Drugs are good. Remember to ask for the drugs.

New week: Still waiting.                                                                                                               4/12/10

Scheduled for a Chemo Class on Wednesday; Electrocardiogram on Thursday; Surgery on Friday-pending the read on the MRI.  

The doctors are working around my schedule so I will be able to attend Mom’s memorial. 

Spent the weekend reading up on Chemo therapy; cleaning the house and getting the house in order. Guess the anticipated energy burst kicked in, a little.

I’ve been preparing more people at work.  It’s interesting how different people react to the news.  My new fear is not being able to drive into work.  Jackie is coaching me.  She fears I won’t recognize my limitations during Chemo and over extend myself.  Her fear is justified.  Even Tom is starting to warn me to “slow down” and be more purposeful with my movements and to WEAR SHOES.

Okay, I get it.  I’m a Klutz. I shall practice grace.

In the Beginning: April 2010

Thursday, April 1, 2010 8:06 PM, CDT

April 1, 2010

 Is it a coincidence that this journal begins on the day of foolery?  Was I foolish not getting checked out sooner? Am I foolish to not fear the future? I don’t know. I’m conflicted about it all.  All I know is I have been diagnosed with breast cancer and have a tough journey ahead.  For my daughter, sisters, nieces and all the women in my life I am determined to document my journey.   At the risk of being foolish or embarrassed I will write.  I will be real.  I will not hold back.

The journey begins with a doctor’s visit and a suspicion that something wasn’t quite right.  Although I was in denial – not me – in private I worried about a slight shadow in the low curve of my right breast. The shadow emphasized a dimple, an indentation that only presented itself as I raised my arms to apply underarm deodorant.  Not one to gaze at myself in the mirror I do not know exactly how long this vague indicator originally presented itself, I can admit (out loud) that it has been at least 2 months and probably 3 or 4 months.  I really thought I was too young to be worried about it.  I’m under 60 and in good health, have small breasts and didn’t feel anything under the shadow.  No pain, no obvious lump, only a shadow.

I haven’t been fastidious about self exams, but I do do them when I think of it.  I’ve tried to understand or imprint in my head the layers of lumps, ridges, soft spots in there but I have to admit, it all felt odd. So the least I could do is compare both sides and try to identify changes.  I didn’t. I didn’t recognize the change until that shadow.   I haven’t been getting annual mammograms.  I didn’t practice good judgment or what I preached.  I couldn’t even admit to myself that I was WAAAY past due for an exam.  And in spite of the fact that Mom and Jackie had breast cancer, I STILL didn’t think it could be me, or did I? Maybe I knew and wasn’t ready to face it.  Foolery indeed.

The Mammogram: 

Less than two weeks ago I was scheduled for a mammogram.  I really hate mammograms.  With small (and what I’ve been told were dense) breast the challenge to fit them on the flat platform to be pressed and captured between the plates is uncomfortable and less than pleasant.  My experience was not what I expected. 

First the facility is really nice. The staff extremely pleasant and not overly sugary.  I was on time, I was seen expeditiously with a professional warmth with just the right amount of detachment to assure me I needn’t be embarrassed in my gown. Silly that I would be asked to alternate the action of slipping my arm out of the sleeve while the gown hung on the other side just slightly covering the other breast.  But I mimicked the professional detachment and obliged to partake in the illusion.  The deed done I returned to my tastefully appointed dressing area, dressed, reapplied my lip gloss and left with a thank you and a smile not expecting (really??) to see these nice people for at least another year.   The desk attendant let me know the results will be sent to my doctor. 

The Results:

So I went home and proud that I did what I needed to do. 

Two days later I received the call from the doctor’s office that there was a dense (there is that word again) area that the radiologist wanted to exam closer and I was scheduled for a follow up appointment the next day. 

A new technician met me, respectfully went over the process.  She did see the shadow and identified the area of concern – said she could feel it.  I could only believe that she had much more experience with breast lumps.  She pressed down with a finger to see if I had any soreness.  I didn’t.  She took her pictures and again I returned to the dressing area, but this time not so confident. 

I wasn’t fearful. Why?  I was more concerned about my lack of concern. Who am I to think even at this stage I will get favorable news. Boy, isn’t denial amazing?  

This time the doctor called and said the radiologist (who is this guy?) recommends a sonogram. So it is scheduled and I meet with the nurse navigator who explains the process and assures me that it will be a quick and simple office procedure.  It was.  Very nice.  Instead of the TV version where cold gel is applied the gel was warm. The sonogram technician was very nice and very professional and pregnant.  After a review is was decided a biopsy was in order.  It was scheduled for the next day.  I’m glad I took the day off.

1.       Mamogram

2.       Compression mammogram

3.       Sonogram

4.       Biopsey – needle biopsy/Sonogram

Oh the Pain, the pain. 

Please don’t let anyone tell you a biopsy doesn’t hurt.  Don’t believe them when they say “you’ll feel a little prick and some pressure”  LITTLE PRICK!!! Good grief.  Little Prick!!!  - Hell, I scared the doctor and the technician when I yelped in pain. 

Imagine a cold soldering iron drilled into your breast – no problem. Then the switch from off to on with instant red hot heat – the burning pain starts as a single point of pain that blossoms like a flower, spreading slow with a unique definition.  I knew exactly where it was and where it traveled. Now multiple by three.  Three samples. It was supposed to be four, but the doctor and technician took pity on me and elected to stop at three.  They were good samples. Thank God. With care and sympathy the doctor assured me that this was unusual (must be because my small breast are do “Dense”).

The issue is this.  The area, about 1 inch in size-phase 2, is close to my chest wall.  There was extra caution to not puncture my lung with the biopsy needle.  The needle was navigated from the side, but the lanicane just didn’t get there.  So yes, it hurt like hell.  So what.  A sign of life. I got over it.

Learning to sleep:

So Tom and I left the doctor’s office thinking, yes, this wasn’t so bad (in spite of the pain). We went to lunch. Enjoyed sushi while I worked the chop sticks with my left hand, protecting my right side.  I was now packing a cute little circular ice pack in my bra.  After lunch I wanted to complete my kitchen make-over (inspired by Lynn) and pick up a few items at Harry & Davids.  Sure…I was just fine. No problem.  The ice pack melted, the breast calmed down, I wanted to be happy, just pick up a few items to make black bean soup and some trivets to decorate the kitchen walls .  What was I thinking? The doctor said I should take it easy for a few days, not do any cleaning, cooking etc… for 24 hours.  The only thing I complied with was the no showering for 24 hours. 

So that evening I practiced sleeping.  I am a BIG flopper. I flop all night.  I don’t just roll over I flip the covers up in the air propel my body up and twist with the goal of landing in a new position just as the covers land.  I haven’t perfected it yet.  I’m asleep these things take years.  Most of the time I wake up with the sheets twisted sideways, two or three pillows thrown across the room and the nicely folder covers from the closet in a heap in the corner.  Don’t ask. It is so bad I have to sleep in another room from Tom or else he wouldn’t ever get any sleep.

So lying in bed wearing my bra (doctors orders) and panties (not orderd) I practiced sleeping without the flip and the flop. I worried what it was going to be like if I had to protect my chest area, avoid the pain.  I still had the bandages on from the days adventure. I practiced not rolling on my side, not lying on my stomach, not twisting. I lied straight face while I lied (to myself). I couldn’t do it.  I managed to keep the flipping to a minimum but I did roll and change position many times.  That is when the worry set in.  At night learning to sleep.

Okay, long story short:

Okay, long story short.  I got the call the following Tuesday at work (the biopsy was Thursday).  The biopsy was positive for cancer. The doctor gave me the information over the phone. I was thankful he didn’t make me wait for an appointment or a letter in the mail.  He was apologetic, appropriately somber and I found myself assuring him it was okay.   I would be scheduled for an appointment with a surgeon, an oncologist, etc. etc. etc.   Wheels in motion.

I called Tom and Jackie.  I wanted to wait until I had my treatment plan before calling anyone else. It’s simpler and less dramatic if you can say … "and this is what I’m going to do about it."  This is me being practical.  I’m still at work.  I decide to tell my boss. She is supportive and even more calm and practical than me.  Okay, she says, you just do what you have to do. 

I called Bailey. I had to leave a message.  She called back that evening and was calm, supportive and amazingly non-panicky.  A real chip off the ‘ol block.  She is facing her own adventure with abnormal paps and a recent biopsy.   “I enjoy being a girl” 

Berkeley is spelled with 3 e’s:

Tom and I went to see the surgeon, Dr. Kho.  Meticulously she reviewed my pathology, treatment options and we looked at the computer images of my breast; fondled the hardware that transports chemicals into the bloodstream; agreed that a good course of action would be a few months of chemo therapy first to shrink the tumor, then (if all goes well-why should things change now??) surgery to remove the tumor, a lumpectomy or partial mastectomy., followed by radiation.  Tom and I have every confidence that this surgeon knows her stuff.  She has her undergraduate degree from Berkeley, Asian with kind eyes, is about 13 years old and very cute. Everything you want in a surgeon. Before we left her office the oncologist concurred over the phone. Not that she was cute, but the treatment plan was a good one.  I was a good candidate for this type of treatment.  So we left knowing that someone would contact us in a few days to schedule an MRI; I needed some additional lab work done and have a chest X-ray. 

The official pathology:  Infiltrating carcinoma with mixed ductal and lobular features. (I have features, don’t you just love features?)

Surgery a go-go:

Surgery to implant a port for the chemo and biopsy the right lymph nodes is scheduled for April 16th.  Dr. Kho is very busy and that was her next available surgery date.  My biggest concern is whether or not I would be in good enough shape to travel south for mom’s memorial.  Everyone I spoke with knows now our family history and are working to assure I can without a problem.  Hmmmm will the port be detected at the airport? 

The Navigator:

I have a nurse navigator. Tom and I visited her right after our appointment with Dr. Kho. She brought out the diagrams and dioramas, packets of pink literature, models of half breasts and pamphlets. She and Tom bonded.  I think they would have gone out for a cocktail if I hadn’t been there. Pink Champaign or something. I’m glad he has a new friend; I think he is going to need a navigator.

Pillow talk:

It is my plan to keep working as much as I can.  I’ve taken the week following the implant surgery off for recovery so I can be in tip-top shape on the 24the and give me time to plan for future treatment (in other words, laundry and house cleaning).  I will actually see the oncologist the Monday following. Then let the games begin.  I do not know anything beyond this.  It is my plan to forge ahead one day at a time and maintain an as positive attitude as possible.  I will probably work some days from home or partial days as the treatment allows.  A few people at work already know and we have had a few good laughs about baldness and me being a grumpy old lady.  Plans being what they are, plans…I expect some interesting side trips and diversions.  Think I will need a new pillow, no not to cry on. Just planning ahead for those long nights learning to sleep.

Welcome to the Woodpecker and Friends Blog

This is an experiement for the WPs.  I have just created a blog page in GOOGLE to replace the Caring Bridge page.  Let's see if this works.