31 October 2011

Hallowe'en (That's how they spell it in Canada)

If I were feeling better, like if perhaps I'd finished my chemo already and was back on the recovery track rather than still in the trenches of the fight, we'd be having a whole lot more fun with Halloween this year.

How often does a gal get to capitalize on being bald? Here are a few I've considered:

There are a ton of costumes waiting for me, but sadly, they will remain waiting - Halloween is on a Monday, which sucks, and I'm just not up to partying. But the possibilities are endless... don't you think?

30 October 2011

It's Cancer Limerick Sunday!

I wanted a costume with me-ness
Perhaps a strong goddess like Venus?
It is unfortunate
But I have to admit
My head makes me look like a penis.  

29 October 2011

Hair (not the musical)

When the girls found out I'd have to have chemo, they started crying because they didn't want me to lose my hair.  They were worried how I'd look and thought that people would be mean to me (read: them,) if I was bald.  So when I asked them if they wanted to shave my head, all of a sudden my being bald had a lot more appeal.  I made the appointment for 8 days after my first chemo, having been told that my hair would start falling out 7 - 10 days after my treatment.

People have asked if my hair had started to fall out and no, it hadn't.  But I wasn't about to wait around for it to do so.  I have to be a little more proactive than that.

On Wednesday, I picked up the girls after school and we drove over to the Greene, where my hairdresser has recently relocated.  She has a room in a co-op salon out there and has been doing my hair and the kids hair for about 5 years.  The girls are very comfortable with her as am I and so that's where we shaved my head.

The deal was Emily, my hairdresser, would shave a strip down the middle of my head and then the girls would each take turns and get to shave one whole side.  Emily put the shortest guard she had, 1/16 inch, on the clippers and made the borderline, showing the girls how to hold the clippers flat against my head and push them through the hair, pausing to shake off the excess.  They decided who was going to do which side.  Because if all of the details are not negotiated before we begin any endeavor where they are both involved, fights and tears ensue.  They are never a united front - they have not yet realized that there is strength in numbers.  I was nervous, but with the guard on there was very little chance of either of the kids injuring me.  Especially with Emily supervising.


Who wants to go first??  Naomi screamed "ME!"  True to each of their personalities, Naomi just wanted to jump in with both feet, and Miriam wanted to observe a little before she committed.  Naomi began confidently in the back and then moved to the side, did some in the front and then back to the back again.  She got a little frisky around the ears. Luckily, Emily was there to help out folding it down out of the way so she wouldn't nick me.  She was fascinated by it, spending a little time just holding the clippers to feel them vibrating in her hand.  "They tickle!" she shrieked.  And she asked me if it tickled on my head.  It did not.  She was very proud of herself when she was finished with her side.  If you know Naomi, then you can imagine what her response was - having done it once, she's obviously qualified to be a hairdresser now.

So then it was Miriam's turn and she approached it much more methodically, following along the lines and being more thoughtful, and somewhat less skilled than her capricious sister.  It was a stark illustration of their personalities.  It took more time for Miriam to do her side.  She was concerned about whether she was hurting me and paused for guidance from Emily, as well as help around my ear.  She was less enthusiastic about it than Naomi, and quite sober.  I'm not sure if it's because she went second and so when she was done I was essentially bald, or if the meaning of the whole experience was weighing on her.

After the girls were finished, Emily cleaned up any spots that needed attention, gave both Miriam and Naomi a trim and having let the clippers cool down while she was doing the kids, went back over again without the guard.  I'm so glad I thought to include the kids in this stepping stone, because having done it themselves, it has given them a sense of control over the situation.  I'm no longer bald because of chemotherapy.  I'm bald because they got to shave mom's head.  In the whole history of time, how many kids can say that?  "What did you do yesterday?"  "Oh, I shaved my Mom's head."   How cool is THAT?

And there you have it.

28 October 2011

Second Guessing Third


So the third thing I started second guessing myself  about was the time frame it took me to finally bring up my breast changes to my doctor.  I already had two, 2cm tumors by the time I talked to my regular doctor.  I had seen a breast change over a year earlier, but because I had had a clean mammogram I thought it was ok.

Likewise, I bought into the myth that if it hurts, it can't be cancer because cancer doesn't hurt.  That's malarky.  My nipple had been sore and sensitive for some time.  Instead of it raising a red flag for me, it comforted me because I assumed it was ok because I had ALWAYS heard that cancer doesn't hurt.

That new PSA by Rethink Breast Cancer really hit home for me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsyE2rCW71o

Watch it, learn from it.  The L and C part of TLC is what saved my life.  I didn't feel a lump, I had regular mammograms and I still ended up with Stage 2 breast cancer.  No one knows your boobs like you.  If you see ANYTHING different, ask your doctor for diagnostic testing.  Even if your mammogram comes back clean.  ESPECIALLY if your mamo comes back clean!

I wonder if I had mentioned this to my doctor when I first noticed something different if I could have avoided chemo and unquestionably, the answer is yes.  I would have caught this a year ago.  My tumors would have been small enough that the oncologist would not have recommended chemo.  I would have been Stage 1, and possibly even in situ, instead of invasive.  Dan also beats himself up about not pushing me to get it checked.  He even noticed a difference, but I told him my mamo was clean and so we just never discussed it again.

Even with my family history and my awareness of the disease I made a stupidly uninformed decision.  We are told that mammograms are the be all and end all but frankly they aren't and while they are a good screening tool for some women they are virtually useless for women with dense breast tissue.  I don't even know if a radiologist ever mentioned that my breast tissue was dense or not.  Ask the quesion - Is my breast tissue dense?  Is this an effective screening tool for me?  Is there a better method for me to be screened? But most of all, be vigilant and an advocate for your health.  You know how you are supposed to look and feel.  If you notice a change, ask your doctor.

=====
Miscellany


A couple of things:  First, several of you told me to expect my symptoms to get worse with the next round of chemo, as the effects are cumulative.  I know this.  But for me the worst part of anything is not knowing.  I know they type of yuck I will feel and can mentally and otherwise prepare for it.  I know the approximate duration so I can pace myself and anticipate when it will end.  The yuck may be worse, but I am better off having already done it once.

Secondly, several of you have asked if I'm still accepting hats.  Hell, yes!  I'm still waiting for the perfect one.  Last night Dan and I went out and I wore a hat my sister Michelle and nephew Jason picked up for me in Disneyland.  It's kind of a loose cap, black with sparkly stuff under a crochet-type top.  It is actually pretty cool but I was mortified to see that it looked rather unfortunately like a beret, (a la Monica.)  And that just won't do.

27 October 2011

Second Guessing Second

In addition to second guessing my decision to do breast reconstruction, this weekend had me seriously second guessing my decision to be aggressive and absolutely do chemo.

Dr. Kimo really was unable to give us a percentage point of my chances of a recurrence without it. He listened to my story of my mom dying from her second bout and said, "alrighty then, chemo it is!"

I wonder what lasting effects this decision will create. Certainly lowering my chance of recurrence is cool, but what if they come out with something amazingly targeted in the next five years that will eliminate my chance of recurrence, and in the meantime I've permanently damaged some organ I'm going to want to work for some time, like a liver or kidney?  If I only ate shoots and leaves for the rest of my life would my chances be even lower than with chemo? If I pray, scream, go live with beggars in India or remove all man-made materials from my environment would my chance of recurrence be even lower?

It is accepted practice to introduce weird drugs into a cancer patient, even when they remain quite unsure of the outcome.  They basically administer them with an epi-pen at the ready, waiting to see if you're going to go into respiratory failure or anaphylaxis.  And that's just for when you are there.  All sorts of odd things happen after that - hot flashes, rashes, muscle spasms, nausea, diarrhea, constipation, infections etc.  Who knows what the long term affects are?  Will it increase my chances of dementia?  Organ failure?  Leave me prone to bacterial, viral or fungal infections?  Lower my capacity to generate new cells in the areas that are currently being damaged?  (Fast splitting cells like hair, nails, digestive tract, skin, etc.)  Alternative medicine sites are extremely negative about chemo.  Some people swear by the roots and shoots method, prayer or meditation, etc.  And there are an equally weird number of holistic remedies out there as well.  

Chemo is not a healthy choice... but for many like me, it's our only choice. And I knew that it sucked, but I didn't know it sucked this bad. I guess it's like childbirth - people can tell you it hurts more than anything else you've ever done but nothing really prepares you for it. (Unless you are one of those lucky bitches who pop them out with no trouble at all.)  Did I need chemo?  Not sure.  Is it worth it?  Again, not sure, because there's just no way to tell if they got all the cancer when they did my mastectomy.  And even if they didn't, there's no way to tell if the chemo is finding it and eradicating it.  And even if it is, there's no way to tell if more or different cancer will pop up in the future.

We'll see how the next one goes. I really did not know what to expect but now I've done one I assume it will be easier next time. I'll just expect to be down with flu-like symptoms for four or five days and call in reserves. I am starting to feel better, although I'm seriously worn out by the time half the day is over. More naps needed!

26 October 2011

Second Guessing First

Last weekend sucked.  And while I was laying in bed feeling sorry for myself I started second guessing myself. The Chemo made my chest muscles spasm which felt pretty bad after Two-Drain had added 60 cc's to each expander the week before.  And so I started second guessing my decision to do reconstruction.

No doubt had I opted for just the mastectomy my recovery from the initial surgery would have been faster and less uncomfortable.  The big question is how 'comfortable' would I be going through the rest of my life with a completely flat chest?  It would be like tattooing 'breast cancer' on my forehead.

When Two-Drain made the 'pocket' for the expander to go in, he did so by separating the pec major from the pec minor.  They aren't really connected, rather they have a membrane between them that lets them move independently.  The muscles are still attached at their insertion points - he didn't mess with that.  The pec major is attached to the chest wall under the expanders.  All he did was kind of slide in the expander from the side.  So how does it stay there instead of shooting into my armpit when I lie down?  He lifted the serratus muscle over top of the pec and attached it to close the hole in the side.  So when I get expanded, I feel tension in my back along the serratus insertion points on my ribs.  Additionally, I feel the strain in my pec, from the insertion points around my shoulder to my breast bone to the intercostal insertions on the lower ribs.

My original boobs were sitting a good deal south of where my foobs are perched and I'm worried my foobs won't look age appropriate.  I suppose with the right bra I could have put my boobs back where they started, but they were happier hanging around and it looked right on my body.  One reason I'm not opting for my original size is that I think they would look ridiculous, like a shelf below my chin.  Another reason I'm not going as big is because saline is denser than breast tissue, which means that if a foob and a boob were the same size, the foob would be heavier.  I can't imagine MORE weight on my chest.

I've been expanded twice now, and I no longer look like 'Ken'.  I'm sort of half-way between 'Skipper' and 'Midge'.  (Albeit bald and 30 pounds overweight.) I have adolescent foobs.  I'm thinking just one or two more and I can stop.  I'm not shooting for Barbie.    

25 October 2011

A Little Story


FYI: I am feeling better today - less overall pain and malaise, a little more energy and motivation, much more hope.

My husband is an interesting individual.  At times he is hard to fathom, part of why he calls himself an enigma wrapped in a conundrum, covered by mystery, but mostly I just never know what the hell is going on inside his big brain and why it seems to crowd out what appears to me to be obvious and simple.  So it is with these diverse angles we approach my illness.

Dan never remembers anything he can look up.  Why waste perfectly good brain space on a detail that can be found by googling it?  (Mostly because he forgets to google it.) I prefer to keep lists, and bits and pieces in my head, which drives him crazy.  He thinks it's passive aggressive for me to know that N has gym Monday and Wednesday, instead of putting it on the calendar.  (It's on the list by her back-pack.)  I like to do things a certain way, mostly born of trial and error.  He prefers to re-invent the wheel constantly.  It takes me too much energy to re-invent the wheel.

His family experience was very different than mine.  Early on he dealt with types of illnesses I've not had to.  On the flip side, I've dealt with our own flavor of dysfunction.  Overall, it seems we've arrived at a good strong balance of coping and have managed to knit together a stable environment for the kids.

Because of his military training, or perhaps in spite of it, he can divorce himself emotionally from some volatile situations where I get too involved, likewise, because of my strong dissociation coping mechanism, I too can shut off at key moments.  All in all, we seem to compliment each other well, which makes this journey easier.

Chemo makes me crazy.  No other way to explain it.  I get exceptionally frustrated with being unable to express myself.  I give up hope after feeling rotten for days on end.  I second-guess my decisions for moving forward.  I take nail scissors to my hair and hack away at it.

This is why I love my husband.  When we were discussing the hair incident, he was able to put it in a light where suddenly, it didn't seem crazy at all.  And that made me feel much, much better.

24 October 2011

The Bad Part About Cancer



Up to now, I've been pretty upbeat about this whole cancer thing.  I did my surgery, I saw my doctors, etc. No problem.  This weekend began the worst part of my whole endeavor.  This is where the rubber meets the road. The surgery was pretty cut and dried, no pun intended, but having to subject oneself to medicine that is worse than the disease is both discouraging and medieval.


I am firmly convinced that in the future, chemotherapy will be looked upon like leeches.  What were we thinking?  So as I sit here in bed and feel my insides fighting against the poison I've had doctors introduce, I can only imagine the crap that's going on inside.  My skin and lips, the inside of my mouth and my mucous membranes are drying up and breaking down.  My stomach hurts from constipation, despite slamming 4 to 5 liters of water a day, in addition to other fluids.  I've been eating fruits, veggies and whole grain fiber - to no avail.  My head hurts, constantly, and Saturday morning I developed a fever.  I now have to gauge whether I want to take tylenol and/or ibuprofen to deal with the pain and risk masking an elevated temperature that could be the clue to some weird infection my body can no longer fight because I've destroyed my immune system.  And what is with the weird muscle spasms?  You know when you have a really big stretch and your muscles contract and then relax?  Well mine do the stretch part and contract, and then they won't let go.  Likewise I've got eye twitches, hiccups and don't even get me going on my chest.  My foobs are like clenched fists.  Is this really what we've come up with to fight cancer?  This is it?  'Cause I must say it pretty much sucks ass.


Dan cannot believe how much I've been sleeping.  Sure, I've been popping the ambien and Klonopin, but he's calculated that I've slept more in the past month than I did the entire year after Miriam was born. I'm not sure if I need the sleep or if it's merely a defense mechanism.  


Have I mentioned my head itches?  Hair should be starting to fall out by Tuesday - the girls will shave my head on Wednesday.


Planning is a special hell for me these days.  I have thoughts that pop up, like "N needs a small pumpkin to take to school on Monday," but the logistics of making that happen in any logical manner or time frame are just beyond my capacity.  I feel unable to deal with anything.  Dan doesn't know what I need from him and I can't articulate it.  I don't know what he needs from me and frankly it wouldn't matter, since I am officially broke now and can't do anything.  People ask me things and it's like they are speaking English, but I just don't see how whatever it is they are saying relates to me.  Communication is getting more and more difficult as I can no longer think of the correct words to express my thoughts.  It took me six weeks just to write the previous paragraph.  And forget about pictures... graphics are canceled until further notice.   


The only think keeping me sane is going for strolls - getting out in some fresh air and walking to loosen up my muscles and joints.  And that pretty well exhausts me.  I've got a doctor appointment today and we'll see how I weather that.  And I need to call the oncologist and ask for something for the cankers in my mouth.  


This is harder than I thought it would be. I hope I can forget about it soon.

23 October 2011

It's Cancer Limerick Sunday!

From surgery, it's been five weeks
I've had lots of valleys, few peaks
I'm healing so slowly
My spirits are lowly
Some exercise is what I seeks.

21 October 2011

Words fail me...


A very quick post to say that chemo brain is quickly overtaking me.  I am having trouble sorting thoughts, organizing ideas and finishing
sentences.

I spent the day in bed uncomfortable.  The tightness in my chest is really troubling.  Like a weight that won't lift. I'll talk to Two-Drain about it on Monday and see if he can do anything.  I'm assuming it's from either swelling or water retention from the steroids.

I did manage to get the mortgage re-fi package together today.  I'm not even sure how that happened but there was some email involved - and a disc of some sort.  And then I turned into a lump of blubber rolling around in bed fighting the cats for space.

I'm going to go snuggle with N & D right now.  They got all my surgical tape and glue off tonight and so I no longer have cat hair stuck all over my chest.  It's the small things.

20 October 2011

What Really Went Down in Chemo


My first chemo was two days ago. It was blissfully uneventful.  I think that's the goal they shoot for, having loaded me up with antihistamines and steroids and anti-nausea meds, and them encouraging me to take my OTC pain meds for any discomfort going on.

So they did a quick exam, drew blood and plugged me in.  Here I am starting to get my benadryl and anti-nausea.  The benadryl hit like a brick wall and made me feel pretty dopey, but I recovered once it started metabolizing as it usually wires me instead of knocking me out.  After that I got some more steroids which made my face turn bright red.  Then a little respite while they watched to see if I would blow up or something, and then they started the taxotere with the requisite warnings about letting them know if I was going into respiratory arrest.  

The taxotere took a long time, like about 2 hours.  So while that was happening, I turned to... my trusty iPad with some movies I downloaded.  One chick flick later I was pretty well done with that.  I've been napping a lot during the day and I didn't sleep well the night before chemo because of the other steroids they gave me to take pre-and-post chemo.  But I had so much going on that I couldn't really sleep so instead I just snuggled down
 with my music and toasty blankets and chilled.  Matt ran to wally-world to get me some more ibuprofen and I loaded up to combat my headache. So then they started the cytoxan with the other warning that if I had any ill-effects to let them know right away.  It all went off without a hitch.  Except for the inevitable for me...
I was advised to slam water continually so I spent a good deal of time walking back and forth to the bathroom.  Plugged in.

I was back again yesterday for my shot to boost my white blood count and I mentioned a couple of discomforts but they encouraged me to tough it out and call if they persisted past today.  The only difference I can feel right now is some muscle spasms, my pee smells like chemicals and I have no desire to do anything but lie in bed all day.  Thankfully, I can do so.

19 October 2011

A little cheat today


I have a guest Limerick!  Thanks to Kay for this little ditty!

There is a young woman named Roby(n)
Whose boobs are now small, hard and knobby
At the clinic she sat
With her nephew named Matt..
He was for the day - chemo sabe!

And a reminder to be on the lookout for hats - 1 week until M and N shave my head, and this is what you are up against.  (The fur bits on the ends squeak!)

18 October 2011

First Chemo

I am doing a brief post to just say that chemo went really well for me today.  I tolerated both drugs swimmingly and had no adverse reactions.  The prep drugs I took yesterday and then the pre-drugs I took today agitated me so I've had very little sleep.  I couldn't sleep last night, nor did I nod off during treatment.  I had a headache going in and took 800 mg of ibuprofen which knocked it out.  I think the headache was from being so tired. I'm about to take another dose.  When I got home I ate a light meal of noodle soup, popped a tranquelizer and laid down for a 3 hour rest.  I just ate dinner and I'm headed back to bed.  I'll detail more tomorrow.

But for now - one down, three to go.

17 October 2011

Technology is Working Against Me

Screw you, Blogger Ipad and Iphone app!  You suck! One of the reasons I did not get very many posts out last week is that I was using my mobile devices to post and the damn apps lost four separate posts I had written, including one I wrote last night and 'saved'.  Back to square one, in this case, the desk top.

Here's where I'm at today.  I started driving yesterday.  Shoulder checking is still a little dicey, and right turns, (where I have to crank my left arm around,) are a little uncomfortable, and I'm sure I won't be doing any long trips in the the next month because I get tired holding my arms up, but for booting around town I think I'm good to go.  My right arm is almost back to normal.  Good mobility, a little nerve discomfort and some weakness from doing nothing for a month.  Left arm has much more limited mobility, much more nerve discomfort and already started out weaker than my right so now it sucks completely.

I'm REALLY tired.  I'm not sure if it's because my body is still healing from surgery, if I have some depression starting, (I don't really like having to get out of bed,) or if I'm just turning into a lazy slug from the past month.  It's been wonderful laying in bed in the morning while Matt has been getting the kids off to school.  I'm really gonna miss that!!!

My chest is starting to loosen up a bit.  It still feels weird, and I sense that it will never feel right again, but like any major life change, normal never returns, one just gets used to the 'new' normal.  I'll be doing some stretching exercises this week as I can, in preparation of my next expansion in another week.

I was able to enjoy a night out on Saturday and attended the Harman Elementary PTO Fundraiser.  It was Trivia night and OUR TEAM WON!  I was even able to answer a question that no one else on the team knew.     We all had a really great time, the PTO raised a good pile of cash and I was able to say hi and thanks to a number of folks who have been helping and sending good wishes my way.  I was actually feeling well enough to drink a little and Dan was worried that I looked and felt too good, and people who had been providing meals would be all pissed off that I was 'better.'  "Act more frail!" he advised.  Not gonna - I start chemo tomorrow and expect to crash and burn by the end of the week.

Matt will come with me to my chemo - they've got wifi and we downloaded the Hangover and a chick-flick for me.  I'm planning on popping a Klonopin tonight to calm me down, as I am already a little anxious about it.  I'll get steroids, anti-nausea and Benadryl before the cancer drugs.  Benadryl wires me instead of knocking me out.  If all goes well, and I can tolerate the chemo well, we'll be out of there in 3 - 4 hours.  If not, it could take 5 - 7.  We'll take some healthy snacks, (cut up apples,) and I'm planning on downing a smoothie in the morning.  (I don't want anything that's going to be gross in the event it makes a return appearance.)  It should be smooth sailing tomorrow - side affects and bad stuff tends to accumulate with the treatment so since tomorrow is Number 1, all should be fine - white blood cell count, etc.

One thing I have noticed - evidently I've started anticipating 'chemo brain'.  I have, of late, been struggling for words, forgetting ideas before I have a chance to articulate them, misplacing items and generally been out of it.  I'm working really hard to let go of the frustration that comes along with that.

I'd write a post while I'm getting chemo, but the app SUCKS and I don't want to lose it.  If I feel up to it, I'll email myself one so I can post from the desk-top when I get home.

  

16 October 2011 - Part Deux

Growing a Pair

At last Thursday's Two-Drain follow-up, we jumped to another milestone.  I had been getting really progressively better for 3 or 4 days.  My pain had diminished so that I was not even taking ibuprofen, my nerves had calmed to the point where it felt sensitive, but not burning, and I was feeling well enough to walk.  I still had some tightness across my chest and under my arms, but that was merely uncomfortable, not painful. And he cleared me to ditch the ace bandages.

So I haven't been posting because I've been busy doing other stuff that needed to be done.  And then resting because doing what needs to be done really wipes me out.   

I had wanted to hold off expanding* (*see note) so I could chill before I start chemo on Tuesday.  A whole pain-free week to exercise, rest, sleep etc.  Two-Drain shut that down pretty quick with the following explanation.  The 'pocket' where my expanders sit is an artificial one made by separating my pec major from my pec minor.  My body wants to cordon off the area with tissue.  The longer we wait to expand it, the tougher that material will be.  The tougher the material, the more it will hurt.  

* Note:

When I had my mastectomy, the breast surgeon removed all the breast tissue and then handed off to the plastic surgeon.  The plastic surgeon made the 'pocket' and inserted expanders.  Expanders are silicone bags with a valve or port.  They are filled with saline.  When they are first put in, a small amount of saline is added, about 70 - 170 cc of fluid.  After the incisions heal and skin adheres to the muscle, more saline is added at intervals to expand the pocket and overlying muscle and skin, until the desired size is achieved.  The same method is used to stretch skin for burn, birth defect or accident victims where a skin transplant is not used.  

The port has a metal disc in it that serves a couple of purposes.  First, it stops the syringe from poking a hole in the bag, and secondly it is a marker for the doc to find it under the skin.  If you've ever used a stud-finder on drywall, it's essentially the same thing.  The doc moved the device over my foob until the marker registered and then took a sharpie and marked the spot.  (Sort of like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction before he sticks the massive adrenalin needle in Uma Thurman's heart.)  Then the nurse swabbed me with iodine and Two-Drain poked a gigantic syringe full of saline through my pec into the port and added 60 cc's to each side.  How did I  know it was gigantic?  Did I watch?  Hell to the NO!  I shut my eyes as soon as I saw him starting to fill it.  But Dan said, "Wow!  That needle's even bigger than the one they shoved in my knee!"   The nurse pretty well told him SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!

I have no feeling in the skin where my boobs used to be.  All of those nerves travel up through the breast tissue and are fed by it.  When they removed the tissue, the connection was broken to there is a huge swath of nothing in my front.  But I can feel pressure.  And evidently, the muscle underneath has some form of rudimentary communication going on because when that needle jammed through it, right pec seized into a knot.  The nurse told me to relax because it wouldn't hurt as much and I'll be damned if I didn't try but pec 1 had a mind of it's own and would not let go.  It's been spasming ever since.  I was somewhat more prepared for the left side and that one went a little easier.

So now my chest just feels weird.  I have tightness under my arms again, (like I'm wearing a suit jacket that is too small,) and I feel like I can't take a whole breath, and I'm having muscle spasms in funky places - like in my back.  It's all connected, so why not? Another weird place it is hurting is on my sides over my ribcage.   Also, the place where my cleavage will be feels gross.  Like the skin is tearing away from the breast-bone.  Am I heading down the road to a uni-boob?  Not sure.  Although I do have confidence in Two-Drain.  

After the initial swelling went down after surgery, my chest kind of looked like Ken's - flat, square, blank pecs.  They are now kind of round-ish.  I still have lots of surgical tape over my insicions, but the scabs are almost gone.  In another week or two the tape should wear off and I'll just have a red line across the middle of each lump.  Two-Drain wants to expand weekly but I was able to push him off a week because of my chemo appointment on next Tuesday.  I don't think I'll need more than two or three more appointments to get to my new size, which will be smaller than my old size.  In the meantime, I'm back on ibuprofen and I'm resting today.   And I now can say I'm officially growing a pair.

16 October 2011

It's Cancer Limerick Sunday!


When looking for something to wear
A flat chest was too much to bear
I'm replacing my boobs,
With saline filled 'foobs'
I'm officially growing a pair!

11 October 2011

Nuts and Bolts

We've had another changing of the guard this week.  As my sister Michelle prepared to leave on Monday, her son arrived to help out.  So I've had the blessing of a live-in family member since two days before surgery.  I can't tell you how thankful I am to my family for helping out.  It has provided a stable base for the kids - while there are wildly divergent parenting styles involved, we've managed to keep them on a regular schedule with homemade lunches, homework help after school and a walk to and from Harman.


We have also been the thankful recipients of a very active meal train, with sustenance arriving like clockwork Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  Again, this has been a godsend for the kids, as our normal sit-down dinner routine continues.  I shudder to think how much cereal the kids would be eating for dinner without the help we're receiving.  I am thanking my lucky stars that we are in this community full of caring folks who are bending over backwards to support us with whatever we need to keep on keeping on.  I can't imagine having cancer anywhere else in the world!

In the past 3 or 4 days I have crossed over some kind of a milestone in the healing process because I do not have as much pain and I have much better mobility.  I'm still pissed off I can't walk like I used to, and I've lost a ton of muscle tone.  But I'm able to do a little more everyday.  One thing I did not count on was gaining weight.  But three weeks in bed feeling yucky and consoling oneself with goodies people keep dropping off is taking its toll. When I gain weight, I usually gain it all over.  But now the fat cells have been removed from my chest area the excess fat that would have ended up there is settling around my middle, (in addition to the fat that would have ended up there anyway.)  Ouch. As soon as I feel up to it I'll get back on the walking program.  And get back to eating what I should instead of what I want.  I'm hoping that is tomorrow.

FYI: I start chemo in a week.

9 October 2011

It's Cancer Limerick Sunday!

After the knife and the drains,
I wonder if cancer remains
So just to make sure,
I'll have to endure
A mixture of drugs through my veins

8 October 2011

Today I am announcing my Awesome Hat! contest.

For those of you who don't have the pleasure of living in the Mid-West Region of the United States, in a 90 year old drafty house, (draughty, for you Canucks and Brits,) trust me when I say that when I get my head shaved, I'm going to be cold.

I know I've been admonishing y'all to be on the look our for cool hats for me since I began this adventure.  I'm thinking along the lines of this, or this:

But I certainly wouldn't be averse to these:

Now some of you may feel these are more my style:










And that is entirely your prerogative.  Just don't get me this:

Because I already have one.

Some other hints:  my scalp will be sensitive so the fewer seams, knots, and bumps, the more likely I'll be able to wear it.  All hats submitted will become my property to do with what I desire, which will probably be donating them to the hat and glove drive my Temple sponsors every year.  The winning hat(s) will grace my head throughout the winter and the submitters will be the recipients of my undying (get it?) gratitude, as well as something awesome as soon as I figure out an appropriate awesome prize.  (Soliciting for ideas.)  For those of you who are not local, if you would like to snail mail me something, contact me and I'll privately  provide an address.

May the best hat win!

6 October 2011

A Word about October

I've recently read a piece written by a widower who lost his young wife to breast cancer.  He said that October was a painful time for him because of the constant reminders of what killed his wife.  You can't walk into a sporting event, grocery store or restaurant without seeing a pink ribbon this month.

Breast cancer awareness is a nice idea, but I think that given its incredibly high profile, it is somewhat redundant.  OK, maybe that's not the right term, but you get my drift.  And for every survivor who celebrates, there are family members left behind of one who didn't win their battle.  It's not just about the survivors, and in fact, I'm not sure it should be.

When we commemorate big battles and victories in war, it is most often a solemn occasion remembering those who lost their lives.  I feel as though those who lost their battle with cancer are mostly ignored during the month of 'cancer awareness'.  And those currently fighting are cheered on, and those who won are celebrated.  That seems ass-backwards to me.  Shouldn't we be respectful and sensitive to families who have lost someone?  Isn't beating cancer enough of a win?  Do survivors have to celebrate?

Now that I'm in both camps, I feel pretty qualified to comment.

My Thoughts:


Pink is not my favorite color.
I am not my cancer.
As I continue to live my life, I hope I will remain a mother, wife, sister, daughter, aunt, and friend. Not a 'survivor'.
I will take from this experience lessons to apply to the other areas of my life.
And I will move beyond it.
I will not forget I lost my mom to this disease and when I think of cancer, 'triumph' is not what will come to mind.

I prefer to think of October as Get-Ready-For-Halloween Month.
Hang the ghosts in the tree, 
Put together the costumes, 
Buy the candy I say I'm not going to hand out every year, 
Carve the pumpkins, 
Roast the seeds, 
And debate whether we're going to have a party.  (OK, definitely NOT this year.)  


But I won't be wearing pink.  (Unless I choose a costume like this:)

4 October 2011

Chemo 101

So today was my Chemo 101 class. I did not test out. On the plus side, it sounds like they manage nausea well, and are responsive to quality of life issues. Evidently the dark ages of chemotherapy are over and there are a multitude of drugs they can administer to fix cancer, and then a multitude of other drugs they can administer to fix the crap the cancer-fixing drugs cause. I wonder if there is a third tier there as well, (to fix what the fix the cancer-fixing drugs cause, and so on.) I'm not 100% sanguine on all of this poison about to enter my system but at this point I'm thinking that since I've started down this path, I may as well continue instead of doing the smudge-pot, crystal, and shaman route.

Because my course is short (four cycles, 3 weeks apart each,) I shouldn't have some of the problems commonly associated with chemo. I was told that I would totally lose my hair, but I'm good with that. I'll have mouth sores, but they have a relatively easy fix/preventative involving salt and baking soda rinses. Nausea should not be an issue. I may be prone to headaches but that can be combatted by letting them know and they'll slow down the drip. My nails should survive intact. I'll have to have both benedryl and steroids, which both agitate me, so I'll be countering those with a Klonopin, which I currently take for occasional anxiety.

I do not have to quarantine myself, just use common sense during cold season - frequent hand washing, avoiding virus shedding sickies, general good health practices (8 hours sleep, good nutrition, exercise body, exercise mind.)

My biggest challenge right now is two-fold. First, my freaking arms are driving me batty - they burn like crazy, laying on them feels like I am flaying them, t-shirts feel like ice picks sticking in my armpits. And second, I can't drive yet. And based on the fact I can't lift my left arm past 45 degrees, I don't know when will be able to drive.

Yesterday we called in reserves. My nephew will be coming down next week when my last sister heads home. He'll see me thru my first chemo appt and hopefully, at four and a half weeks post surgery, I'll be able to drive. As for the armpits, I'm just going to have to keep popping the ibuprofen.

Oh yah, and sometime between now and when I have chemo, our health insurance will be changing and the new insurer requires prior authorization. And evidently will not reimburse retroactively. And we can't get the information on it until we switch over, which will be next week. Fun!

3 October 2011

Ding Dong the Drains are Out!


Today I had my drains removed. I am much more comfortable now.  The doc said I still have to be a slug for a couple of weeks and I should expect to be pretty 'whole' at six weeks.  That's the magic number for any major surgery - 6 weeks.

As promised, a photo.  I had been waiting until the drains were out since they were gross.

As you can see, I'm starting to get really soft around the middle from laying around day after day.  I'm not looking forward to having to build up the stamina that I had amassed before surgery.  It's going to be an uphill climb.

Yesterday I had a fainting spell.  Not sure what's up with that but it hasn't happened so far today so I'm going to assume it was an aberration.  Tomorrow I have my how-to-have-chemo class.  Looking forward to that.

  

2 October 2011

It's Cancer Limerick Sunday


After years of having big tits,
They are now just tiny small bits
If I don't wash my face,
I'll be in a race,
What's bigger? My boobs or my zits?

1 October 2011

Looking Forward to Chemo?

Fall is upon us in earnest and the colder weather brings challenges for me.  I know I complained about the nerve/skin problem being yucky when I sweated, but having now experienced it when I am cold, I've gotta say the sweating was better!  Having goose bumps magnifies the pain.  I've been huddling in bed with my awesome Land's End Heated Mattress Pad (with dual control,) which the cats have discovered that they love.  I had Dan turn on the heat today.  Our Southern California guest is happy about that.

I'm on day three of the new regime, (ace bandages and more rest,) and I can say that it's working wonders for the drains.  My output is now entirely acceptable.  When I get the drains out tomorrow I need to ask the right questions about what to expect post-drains.  How long will it take for me to heal to the point where I can be without the ace bandages?  If I take them off now, will I have fluid buildup?  (I assume yes since the compression seems to be having the most affect on my drainage.)  Once my skin has adhered to the new muscle surface, do I run the risk of separating it if I get back in the gym and work out hard?  And what if I do? What will happen?

I'm eager to take my How-To-Have-Chemo class on Tuesday.  I've done a little reading on it, and of course, the blogs, the blogs... As I found out with the drain situation, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.  I am not at all worried about the hair but I saw some awful pictures showing what it can do to finger and toe nails and that scares me!  My nails are already super soft.  I can't imagine having them compromised further.  I don't know why I didn't make the connection earlier - keratin is keratin and all will be affected.  The kids cried when they heard I'd be having chemo because they think I'll look weird without hair.  And then I told them that they can shave my head when the time comes so now they are ok with it.  In fact, I'd say they are downright looking forward to it.

In a sense I'm looking forward to it too, because up to now I've looked so good that I feel a little guilty for sitting around on my ass all day having folks do for me.  Granted, while I was feeling fabulous until the surgery, I'm actually starting to feel not so fabulous now.  My energy level continues to diminish as I sit around.  Getting no exercise is making me stiff and sore.  I'm not sleeping well.  Resting in the daytime is messing up my sleep schedule, and when I do sleep it's only for fits and bursts because I get uncomfortable.  The nerve discomfort has moved into the realm of pain with the increase of compression on my surgery site.  I'm popping ibuprofen religiously.  And the boredom makes me cranky.  It's much easier to take that from someone who looks like they are fighting cancer, wouldn't you say?  When I lose my hair, my transition from typical person to typical person with cancer will be complete.  By all accounts, chemo should be the valley of my journey and then I can look forward to feeling better and better.  As with all things in my life, once I know where I'm going, I'm itching to get started and get it over with.