The Good Life

A whirlwind of activities! A complete beauty and wardrobe makeover to help me find just the right look! The new master suite was completed in record time with a custom closet made to fit all my new clothes. I can't believe the master bath is actually done! Relaxing in my new claw foot bubble tub is like having my very own spa. The best part is it was all done with recycled and green materials!

After the organizer helped me go through years of clutter and held a tremendously successful yard sale, I was surprised to open my eyes and see my new home office. The ingenious filing system, cleaver shelving unit and state of the art computer and peripherals will make working at my very own home based business so easy! Using cleaver painting techniques and creative art projects I must say my living room never looked better. I can’t believe all the extra room in the kitchen now that we accessed some unused closet space! I now have a place for all my professional quality cooking equipment the personal chef left for us and I am set to cook all the nutritional dishes I learned to make.

I just love the new look for the front of the house. The garden is so colorful and, using native plants, it is now so easy to maintain. The water feature adds a zen feel and the new house numbers and lights give our little house such curb appeal!

It was amazing how the dog trainer tuned into the issues my dogs were having and turned them around so quickly. The two treadmills, one for us and one for the dogs, is working wonders on their energy level and my waistline! Not only do they mind my every command, but might even be considered for their own TV show! I can’t wait to take them out to our newly certified backyard habitat, or maybe take a ride on my custom Orange County Chopper…..

Well, after spending the day moping around and watching HGTV, TLC and DYI what do you expect my fantasies to be like? Oy, back to the realities of my comfortably cluttered house, weedy garden, tiny bath and unruly, but lovable, dogs and cats. Monday we return to UNC to discuss treatment options with my oncologist.

Biopsy Report

The biopsy report states that the cells found in my rib are metastatic breast cancer. Not the news we wanted, but what we expected. Monday we meet with my oncologist and discuss all the options. I think I'll take today day off and just veg for the day. My body is still sore from the biopsy and my brain probably needs a vacation from reality. Maybe I can find a good movie on TV or start a book, or just take a nap. Thanks for all the good wishes and cyper support, it really is nice to know so many people care.
Hugs,
Jean

Ouch - bone scan and beyond

So even though the nurse said they would, they didn't give me any of the good drugs until they were 95% done and then not very much then. They couldn't find any spots on the the arm that were good targets for the biopsy (could be good news if there are no mets, or it could be they are just too small) so they had to go after the spot on my rib. At first I could watch the screen showing the CT image as they advanced the needle bit by bit through my back to the rib. At one point I got to thinking "gee, here I'm watching as a very long needle is being shoved throught the muscle of my back towards a spot on my rib where they will dig in and suck cells out of the bone." So I decided to close my eyes and pretend that this was not happening. Good choice if I say so myself! So now I wait until at least Wednesday when I should be able to get the results of the biopsy.

Many of you have sent me emails saying that you don't know what to say to me during this dificult time. You are doing just fine. It is not the words that show me you care, it is the time you take to email or even just read My Blog, emails or follow me on facebook. But I do understant your delima, what can be said that is helpful at a time like this? I'll have to think about it and I'll make a post on that. Any of you who have been in a similar situation as I am now please feel free to make a comment on this post with your suggestions of what was and what was not helpful to hear.

Nesting

Today I went into what I call my reverse nesting stage. Instead of cleaning and organizing for bringing home baby, it is cleaning and organizing in case you don't come home. It is not that I expect something bad to happen, but if it should, I'd hate to have someone come in and see how dirty my house is. When I first got cancer I made me best friend swear that if Doug called and told her I had died, she’d run right over and clean my house. I mean, if you are laying in your bed dying, the last thing on your mind should be what are people going to think of your messy house, right?

So I cleaned my bathroom. I hate to admit it, and don't tell my mother, (oh yes, she has Alzheimer’s, she won't remember) but I don't do it very often except for those automatic cleaner things. So, instead of obsessing over the thought that tomorrow they are going to stick a very long needle into one of my bones, I’m obsessing over my bathroom, laundry and office desk. Heck, at least I’ll be getting something good out of this medical set back!

Hum, seems I keep thinking of other terms for what’s happening. Is that denial, or a warped sense of humor, you decide:

• medical set back
• blip on my health chart
• revisiting old ills
• health vacation (can mean two things, a health induced vacation or my vacation from health)
• getting the most from your insurance company
• hypochondria debunked
• extreme attention seeking
• and my favorite – no guilt laziness

Jean

bad news is worse than worse news...

It’s funny, when you are given bad news, but, the possibly is there that it could be even worse, your mind tends to focus on that worst possible outcome. When you get the worst news, you can relax, thinking that at least you don’t have to worry that it could be even more horrible. I’m finding that I am less obsessed with the bad of this situation than I was when I was just thinking that this was just a simple re-occurrence BUT there was a possibility of metastasis.

I’m also finding that it easy to let go of it and just go about my business as if everything was normal. Heck, I can even float the possibility that maybe the bone biopsy will show nothing bad. Of course my chest and stomach are telling me otherwise. Stupid chest and stomach!

So our little treat for today is to take the canoe out on the creek this afternoon. Since my cousin, the marine, is coming, I’ll let the men paddle and I’ll sit in the middle with the little dogs and enjoy the scenery. We haven’t taken Mattie on the water yet (Rosie is an old sea dog already) so hopefully she will find it interesting and not terrifying.

Jean, who enjoyed a simple day of laundry, paperwork and basement organizing (or attempt thereof)

OMG - I HAVE CANCER

Well it took 3 weeks, 2 hours and 23 minutes, but it finally hit me, I have cancer. I don't think it hit me this hard the first time. Long story short, in separating squabbling kitties, one bit me. Not a horrible bite, but it drew blood and for some reason it started a flood of tears that just didn't stop. And not just tears, but actually keening. After calling my husband to come home, I laid on the couch and just sobbed and sobbed. My two little doggies kept sticking their faces in my face trying to see what was wrong.

I guess it was a realization that I couldn't face before or it just needed a 'hand' to get the emotions flowing out and not stay bottled up. I don't know. But I do feel a little better today. It is still a hard concept to hold on to. With the wonderful new treatments today, most breast cancers can be considered cured, so as soon as you are diagnosed you can call yourself a cancer survivor. But if the bone biopsy on Monday shows metastases (like they expect it to) I will not be cured. It can be controlled, so it is not total doom and gloom, but it is a different mindset for me.

Just a thought, but every time you give to organizations that search for a cure, you are helping to cure me also. I have no doubt that research will continue to make advances in the treatment and cure for breast and other cancers, so if you can spare an extra few cents, donate to a cancer research organization of your choice. Also, early detection is still the best hope for anyone who gets cancer. For breast cancer, yearly mammograms and monthly breast checks are a must. Colo-rectal screenings and regular check ups are not just important, but could be life saving.

So, as my roller coaster ride creeps up towards another peek, I'll use this time to take a breath, take one day at a time and take care of myself! Why don't all of you join me in taking this weekend to stop for a minute and appreciate the little things, like the morning dew on the grass, a bird soaring above, a tiny ant struggling to carry a leaf, the antics of a pet and/or the embrace of a loved one. You will be amazed at how, even when you feel like the world is crashing down on you, you can find peace, laughter and love!

Jean

AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH

I just got a phone call from UNC. "Good news" she started out with. My mind immediately filled in the rest of the sentence "they had looked at the wrong x-rays, you are fine!" But Noooo, the good news was they could get me in for the bone biopsy tomorrow. Well, not as good as telling me I don't have metastatic cancer, getting the test done ASAP was pretty good. Less time to obsess over it.
Then the phone rings again.... "I am so sorry, they just called from radiology that they can't do the biopsy until Monday." Flip, someone just turned the switch on the roller coaster to send it into overtime....
Wow, I am really taking this hard. My stomach is in knots and a lump has snapped to attention in my throat. I just want this done already.... Well, I better turn off the water works before my little dog gets upset and has diarrhea all over the place.
Jean, not a happy camper today.

Another day another pot hole

Damn, ya'll really suck at wishing....

The news is not great. Though the preliminary report didn't see it, there are two suspicious spots that they cannot rule out as metastases. One on my 12th rib is very likely cancer and then there is a spot on my upper arm. In a way it would be good if the spot on my arm is malignant because it would be easier to biopsy then the rib. Surgery has been scrubbed (instead of scrubbing for surgery) until after the bone biopsy, which hopefully will happen on Friday.

At the moment I am looking at another round of chemotherapy along with radiation. In stage IV cancer you don't get a cure, but it can be managed. The fact that they only see two spots and that it has been almost 7 years between cancers is a good thing. So, it could have been worse.

A couple of words of advice: it is probably better not to look certain things up on the Internet beforehand. I looked at the procedure for a bone biopsy and it really doesn't sound like fun. I guess it is the description of the sharp pain you might feel as the long thin needle is jabbed into the bone that gives me the willies.

So this roller coaster has added another steep curve. Have I told you all how much I hate roller Coasters? I mean, I don't even go on the baby ones at fairs. When I was in college I went with my cousins to Rye Playland and they convinced me to go on an itty bitty rollercoaster. My cousin Ric was about 14 at the time and I don’t think he appreciated that I grabbed hold of him, buried my head in his arm and just kept repeating “get me off, get me off.”

So I guess my visit to Cancerland is a permanent stay.

And I was hoping for Asheville.

Jean

it's back

Jul 12, 2009

Well, after almost 7 years my cancer has come back. I will again post updates and thoughts for friends and family to follow. When I can find it, I'll post my original blog from my first trip to
cancer land. At the moment my body is reacting more than my mind. I "feel" OK, but my body is showing all the signs of stress, fear and anxiety.

Thank you for being here with me for this new journey.

Love,
Jean

7/10/09
It is so hard to describe what I am feeling. My body feels it appropriately: tight chest,
twisted stomach, lump in throat. Yet my mind just can’t wrap itself around the prospect.
Either it is numb, or racing to avoid the thoughts that should come. Biopsy was Tuesday. I always think the worst and so don’t feel that my gut is telling me anything significant. I felt that the Nurse Practitioner looked fairly serious when looking at the lump, but then I think she could be less dismissive than some, who might try to make it seem like noting, their way to ward off worry. It is a tight rope they have to walk in dealing with patients. Be too concern then the patient worries needlessly. Be too optimistic the patient feels dismissed or like a hypochondriac.
So whether it was just an over load of cases, or it wasn’t marked as rushed as it was suppose to be, I didn’t get the results until after 3 pm Thurs. instead of Wed. She was apologetic for taking so long to get back to me, and the fact that she didn’t start off the conversation with “good news” I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Finally, after explaining why it took so long (the explanation felt like it had lasted 20 minutes when in reality it was probably about 1). She said she was sorry to say that the biopsy did show it was breast cancer. Punch to the stomach. I was holding Mattie (I had taken her into work after her vet appointment) and I could only sit in the hall as I didn’t have a free hand to reopen the door to my office. I listened to the conversation, and I comprehended it, but I can’t remember really hearing it. They will contact Dr. Carey and set me up for a clinic day. I asked if all the tests can be done in one day and she said that should not be a problem. If it is only that one area, then they will discuss whether to excise it more fully and/or do radiation. They will start back at square one with all the staging tests I had the first time to see if it had spread to other areas of my body. If that is the case then more options will be looked at.

My first reaction was relief to finally hear something. Then a moment of fear/sadness/concern until my mind went numb and could not feel anything. Although my body could feel it. I felt like I had been hit by a Mac truck. Could have been the reaction to tensing due to the biopsy, I don’t know. Also some form of PTSD from my original diagnosis. Cancer. It is there, it is real. I’ve said I’m a cancer survivor but I never really related to the word cancer. Now I have it again. Here, in at least one small part of my chest, cells are growing willy nilly, taking over blood supplies and trying to grow into spaces where healthy tissue needs to be. It is unseen and unfelt by me, but it is there. I don’t know if this will be the beginning of the end, or just another bump in the road. I can’t even begin to comprehend how this will change our lives, as so much has changed in the past 10 years. The death of my father, my mother’s illness and my becoming her mother substitute. My first cancer and the treatments that went with that. Then our move to Jacksonville in order to have health coverage. Doug’s mother’s Alzheimer’s and her move to Jacksonville and his caring for her. Her death and my mother’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. Then Doug’s AFib which brought on his stroke only 3 months ago. So much change and turmoil that, in a way, these changes now will not be out of the ordinary.

And Doug’s worry and concern. Since his stroke, stress makes his speech so much more difficult and this definitely is stressing him. His concern for his job from the economy part, and now he is low on time off and his has his speech therapy and doctor’s appointments. I think I am more worried about him than I am for myself.

7/13/09
Ever since I received this new diagnosis I have been nauseous. I know it is my body telling me I am under stress, scared and probably a little angry. I am also so very tired. This is my brain telling me it is not ready to deal with this just yet. So my body wants to deal with it and my mind doesn't....stay tuned to see who wins!

7/17/09

A POEM BY ME

A lumpectomy
Where I had my mastectomy
Is the epitome
Of shity-osity

After a week of imagining the worst, the preliminary report from the scans show no metastasis. Though this is a cliche, it really did feel like a huge weight had been lifted off me.

Funny how perspective works. I'm thrilled to just have cancer and not metastatic cancer!

Anyway, we go back to UNC on Wednesday to meet with the doctors and then back up on Friday for out-patient surgery. Some time after that I'll have 6 weeks of radiation.

When we got home from being at UNC all day this past Wednesday, one of our dogs had had diarrhea all over the hall and another dog was throwing up all over the den. I've got to take the little one to the vet this afternoon. Life goes on no matter what!

7/21/09
The oncology nurse had left a voice mail for me to call her yesterday, but Doug was having his acupuncture and we did not get back until after 6 pm. I called this morning and she told me that the official report from the bone scan states that they could not rule out metastasis in upper arm and on 12th rib, which was not present on previous bone scans. My heart sank. She said she wanted to be straight with me but that it still isn’t clear that it is bad. She said they will probably want to do a biopsy of the rib. I thought I was OK with it, but when I went to the refrigerator to grab some lunch, I just could not eat anything. My first reaction was not to tell anyone so I didn’t put them on this roller coaster with me, but then I didn't want to ride this alone. I emailed my sister. I had planned on not telling Doug, he was so happy and relieved when we thought there was nothing to worry about, but I feel like I need to tell him. Why does caring for yourself sometimes conflict with caring for those you love?

So, tomorrow I should know more than I know right now, and I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not! Since the week I spent depressed becasue I was sure I was going to die from this bout of cancer REALLY upset my little rescue dog (the one who had the diarrhea) I need to keep a positive attitude.

Below is my previous journal from 2002. After this my new posts will appear first. I'll try to keep them updated as often as possible.

My journey though Breast Cancer

20 Oct 2002
I am going to attempt to keep a journal of my travel though this world of breast cancer I've recently entered. Here goes.

I think we have all thought about the "what if I get cancer" scenario. I know I have, a lot. Every medical test I had I was always sure they'd find cancer, but not this time. I had gone in for a routine physical exam and was asked when my last mammogram was.

“Last year I believe”
“Nope, your last one was in 1999. Go get one.”
So I made an appointment for the next week, had my breast squish and headed back to the waiting room to see if they “came out OK.” So I read a magazine and waited and was called back in for a few more.
“So I moved, huh?”
“Ah, no, the Radiologist just wanted a couple of other views”

I didn’t like that statement and it got worse when she said I needed an ultrasound. I’ve had lumps before and it’s always been nothing. But this time it wasn’t. The Radiologist came in and asked when I felt the lump. I hadn’t felt anything and neither had my doctor when he did a physical exam last week. The doctor had a very worried look on her face and told me they were going to call my doctor and I should have a biopsy done right away. This freaked me out. I had to pick up my dog from the groomer's and a cat from the vet and my husband was in a meeting all day so I kind of drove around aimlessly. How would I tell my husband? 24 years ago when we first met he had just lost his first wife to breast cancer. But then, I’ve had biopsies before and they were always benign. This would also. That Friday I went in for a biopsy and from the discussions that were taken place, I had a bad feeling. This “lump” (I still couldn’t feel it) was almost 2 inches and not even at the edges. Seeing that on the mammogram gave me a really bad feeling. I was also talked to about donating some of the tissue for research if it were positive. So 8 core samples were taken and we wouldn’t hear the results until the next Wednesday. Doug and I were a wreck. I could only imagine the worst and he tried so hard to keep a positive outlook, but it was so hard.

In the mean time our 14-year-old golden lab mix was getting sick, but Doug was busy with a new job and I was pretty much taken to the bed. On Monday we get a letter telling us our cobra insurance would run out November 1st.
On Wednesday we went to the breast clinic at UNC and was told it was cancer. We pretty much knew that and in a way it was a relief to actually know something. We were there for over 6 hours meeting doctors, getting information and our minds were pretty much filled up by the time we left. That weekend we went down to visit our daughter in college and my mother who lives in the same town. It was good for them to see I was actually OK.

We got home on Sunday night and I had to be at UNC for tests the next Monday at 8 AM. That morning our dog Maggie had trouble getting up and seemed really out of it. We rushed her over to the vets and told them we had to go to the hospital so they kept her there. I had blood work and other pre-care services. Then I had a MUHGA (A nuclear medicine heart scan) for a couple of hours. That night we went back for a CAT Scan of my lungs and liver. It took 4 sticks until they could find a vein.

Tuesday we went to pick up our dog and were told she had a hemorrhage in her eye and an x-ray showed numerous tumors in her lungs. It was probably some form of cancer. Life sucked at that moment. We took her home but that evening it became clear to us she was uncomfortable. She could not stand or walk on her own so Doug and I slept in sleeping bags on either side of her that night. The next morning we took her in and had her put to sleep. We held her as life slipped away and sobbed. Then I had to go to the hospital where I was told my scan was clear except for a small spot on my liver and I’d need an MRI of that. I agree to another part of that study so I needed to have an MRI done of my breasts before I had any treatment. So at 6:30 am the next morning I had a contrast MRI done and then went to Mammography where they injected my tumor 4 times with radioactive isotopes. I was then taken to outpatient surgery where I was put to sleep (in the human sense) and had my sentinel lymph nodes mapped out and removed. Because my bladder tends to like to stay asleep after anesthesia I had to stay until I could pee, so we finally got to go home at 8:30 pm. Now we wait for the results of the lymph nodes. Next week I get to have a bone scan, MRI of the liver and a port placement. Chemo will start next Friday where I can expect an early menopause and mucho hair loss.
We’ll we’re up to date now.

21 Oct 2002
A couple of months ago I joined weight watchers. As of last week I had lost 9.2 pounds. 9.2, not 10 but a good effort and I was proud of myself. Thursday, having no food all day and just the IV and some apple juice and water I was sure I would add to that number. Imagine my surprise and dismay when I stepped back on my scale and saw I had GAINED 10 pounds. 10, not even just 9.2. Well the good news is it was mostly fluids and I’m back down a bit, but not to what I had originally lost. And the real kicker, the medical oncologist informed me that people tend to GAIN weight on chemotherapy. Now that just doesn’t seem fair does it?

I also love my daughter’s honesty. She was feeling blue and called to talk. I was validating to her what a bad few weeks she had with the news of my cancer and then the death of our dog. She said, “Yes, everyone is really nice and understanding about the cancer, but they just don’t understand about Maggie and that’s what really has me upset.” And that’s the truth; the kids are pretty optimistic about my chances with cancer because they grew up with all the new medical advances. Cancer isn’t the death sentence we grew up with it being. But the loss of our dog, our friend for 14 years. Sarah was 4 and Henry 6 when she came to live with us. She was their sibling more than a pet. Doug and I were whisked back to cancerland immediately after we had Maggie put to sleep and have been busy dealing with my medical concerns, financial concerns and household concerns. But the children have had only the news that their friend is gone. How my heart aches for them. How I worry about their schoolwork, this all came at midterms.

Back to me, I can understand now the zeal with which the women of the 60’s took off and burned their bras. I have been wearing a pressure bra since my surgery on Thursday and am about to scream. Two more days to go until I see the doctor and I know if I have a match handy I’ll leap from the exam table to the nearest trashcan and put “ole bindy” into it in flames. What joy I will feel! For now, I just bitch…

23 Oct 2002
I don’t like MRIs. Now, they are not the worst things in the world when you think about it, nothing pounds on you, you get to lay down (there used to be something where you sat in a chair and it flipped you all around while the x-ray machine stayed still) and the tech talks to you through really neat earphones. But, still, you are lying in a tube with not more than a couple of inches of space between you and the machine and it makes the most awful noises. At rest it sounds like a train just about to pull out of the station, then it pings and pongs and sounds like you are in a very bad video game. Thank goodness it was only about 15 or 20 minutes. But then, I’m not too crazy about the biopsies and other stuff either. I wonder what the chemo will be like? Damn, I should have been more specific when I wished for more time to just lie around and have all kinds of people pay attention to me.

Tomorrow I get a port placement which is a good thing because I am so stuck with holes I’m afraid to drink a glass of water… The port will be placed under my clavicle and will make a place for easy insertion of the chemo lines. I also get to have a BB placed in my breast. One of the nurses told me a of woman who had the chemo before surgery like I’m doing and when they went in to remove the tumor, it had shrunk to nothing and all they found was the BB. So, I have this 4 cm tumor and I’m thinking, if it shrinks away, I’m going to have this BB rattling around in my breast. I don’t know, might make an interesting rattle…

Thank you for all the good thoughts and comforting comments I’ve received. The best was a cousin who had been putting off her mammogram and after hearing from about me she made an appointment. PLEASE, don’t put off your mammograms. That’s my new mantra! I keep kicking myself for the two years I put off mine.

date?
I know everyone is thinking “Oh, how brave Jean is, taking all this like a trooper.” Bullshit. Wednesday I was a bundle of nerves as I was going to have the port placed. The port is a doorbell-looking thing that is placed under the skin on your chest and a tube leads directly into one of the large veins in your chest. It’s completely enclosed so all they have to do to access it is stick a needle into the button looking part, which is some kind of rubber material. It really makes it much easier than hunting for a good vein each time and as mine have been tending to blow (a medical term meaning “Oops, we need to do another stick”) it was a good idea. But for some reason, this really freaked me out. The procedure is done in the x-ray lab under local anesthesia. I’m not good with being cut and fiddled with while I’m awake so I was quite nervous. So while we were waiting to start I kept looking at Doug with pleading eyes to take me a way from there. Being the mean person he was, he made me stay.

“You promised you’d fight this and this is part of the fight”
“I know, but I really, really don’t want this”

Then the nice nurse came in and gave me morphine and something else shot in the butt. Now, they must put something extra in it to make it sting so badly so you won’t want it all the time, but after it stopped stinging and started working I was feeling a little better. When they took me into the room they gave me the really good stuff and I hardly remember anything of the procedure at all. Then we spent the next few hours at the Breast Clinic getting some good news, all my tests are clear! They had taken out 4 lymph nodes and none had any evidence of cancer! My liver scan and bone scan were clean so the cancer had not spread. The only down news was that there were several other legions and calcifications in that breast and the surgeon is not comfortable leaving it, so after chemo I’ll have a mastectomy. I’m OK with that. When I was younger my breasts were too small, now they are too large so they never were “just right” anyway. In fact I never even could nurse on the left one, so “off with you” as King Henry the VIII might have said! Reconstruction is an option but one I really don’t have to think about for a while, so I’m not going to.

Today was my first chemo treatment. I must say it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Having the port made it easy to access and a lot less painful. First I got hydrated with saline (boy does that add pounds, I’ll have to schedule my Weight Watchers weigh in BEFORE my infusions) then I got to take some big pills for nausea and allergy prevention. Then they manually infused a syringe of bright red chemo called Adriamycin. This is assured to cause my hair to fall out in about 2 weeks. It also made my pee pink. Then I got infused with Cyclophosphamide over the next hour. That has made everything taste funny. In all I was there about 6 hours, but it shouldn’t take so long next time. Now I’m feeling a bit queasy and with a headache. I took something for that and will get another does before I go to bed. Supposedly I should feel at my worst in the next 2 days and then start to feel better with the nausea, then I’ll start to feel fatigued as it affects my red and white blood cells, and as soon as that starts to get better, I start all over again. Four times total, so one down, three to go.

The doctor gave me a prescription for a wig. I really thought it might be fun to turn that into the pharmacy, but wasn’t feeling up to “joking around” when I came home. I can take it to several places around here, but I’m not sure I’d like to wear a wig. There have been times when my cat, Mudgie) will lie on my pillow and circle around my head like a wig, and well, I can’t imagine walking around like that (although I might enjoy it when it gets cold and I have no hair on my head, hum…) so we’ll see.

You know, a lot of people have cancer. The infusion room was packed; I was lucky to get a chair! People come with family and friends, books, knitting (I learned a new crochet stitch) and a volunteer goes around handing out juice, cracker and blankets. I really didn’t feel like chatting much, but it was nice having Doug by my side to squeeze my hand every once and a while! I’m also really grateful to my friend Marion who will make a quick run by the house and let the poor doggies out when our appointment time seems to stretch way past their bladder capacities!

Tuesday, Oct. 29, 2002
OK, I’m finally recovering from the chemo, it was worse than I previously told you. By Friday night I was lying in bed hugging a big mixing bowl as anything I tried to keep down took an immediate u-turn and headed out the shortest route. They always say don’t eat your favorite foods because the last thing down is what you remember most, for me it was the pill that was supposed to help my nausea. Didn’t make the next few days any easier. Monday I went in for another biopsy done for the research and at no charge to me. I also get a research coordinator, Rachel, who is sweet as can be. She gets to stay and hold my hand during procedures if I want and even had the doctor prescribe some strong medicines for my nausea. Anyway, They suspected and confirmed several other lesions in my breast, but since I have opted for a mastectomy rather than trying for a lumpectomy, there was no need to biopsy them, just the original mass to see what effect the first treatment of chemo had on it. They also implanted a small gold BB in the tumor incase it shrinks away to nothing so they can examine what’s left of it. So, I actually have a heart of gold at the moment!!

Here is a question, how do I react when I see someone I haven’t seen in a long time and they ask how I am? I ran into someone I worked with several years ago and she asked how I was doing. “Fine” was my first inclination, but as I was having to sit down in the grocery store because I was too exhausted from trudging the aisles (I left the rest of the trip to Doug and I found a table and chair) I figure “Fine” didn’t seem too genuine. So I told her I had breast cancer. Actually it was the right thing to do because she stopped and we talked a bit, I found out what she was up to and things. If I had answered “Fine” we might have just said “Hello” and that was it. I did encourage her to go get a mammogram.

I’m not so up on this cancer thing right now, it has really made me feel yucky. I had gotten to the point at the gym I could use the rowing machine for 20 minutes and then do 30 reps of different crunches, but now, a few twists at the grocery store wipes me out for the day. Oh well. I’m 10 days and counting on the hair thing.

Thursday, Oct. 31, 2002
My mood seems to go up and down. Last night I was pretty blue. I looked at a web site that listed my stage of breast cancer as having a 65% survival rate. I never did like statistics, but those numbers were a bit too low for me (I’m a bit black and white and I like 100% or nothing). But, I’m at a stage II because of the size of the tumor rather than that it had spread, so that gives me a little better odds. But, It did damper my optimism. I’m also contemplating what it’s going to be like being bald and semi-breastless. I never really thought much about my hair, but now I tend to look at it every time I pass a mirror. I also wonder what it will be like being uni-breasted. I was sort of that what when I was nursing Sarah on only one breast (a bit lopsided) but I wasn’t completely missing that other breast. I’m not worried about my looks, I’m not what you would call a classic beauty, or even unclasical, but I was symmetrical (OK, except for the 2 ½ years I nursed Sarah) and now I will be missing a body part. At the moment I’m not considering reconstruction. I’m not a fan for extra pain and surgery and when I mentioned it to Doug he said “Can’t you just get those things you put in your bra?” so it’s not a big deal to him. The only attraction is a chance tummy tuck with one procedure. But, like I said, I’m not up for any extra incisions and pain.

I attended my final Weight Watchers meeting as I’ve put my membership on hold while loosing weight isn’t a priority now, but just to pat my self on the back a little, since I started 9 weeks ago I’ve lost 14 pounds. Of course this week I lost 6 pounds because I couldn’t keep much down over the weekend. But, when I had my sentinel node biopsy surgery, the IVs and extra fluids made me gain 10 pounds that one day and I didn’t even eat anything! So, I can still feel good about the 14 pounds!

Saturday, November 2, 2002
I’m feeling pretty good today. Probably because no one has done anything to me in almost a week! My appetite is back, too much back, but I guess that is good. I’ve become obsessed with my hair. I keep checking to see if it’s still there, pulling to see if it’s coming out yet and searching the web for unique and comfortable head covering.

A question for any medical people out there reading this: 10 days ago when I had the port placement I was given a morphine and something else injection in my rear end before the procedure. Lately that spot has been hurting, just like a needle is sticking me. It’s not constant, just when I move after not moving for a while. Why? Just wondering.


Monday November 4, 2002
Halloween:
In the 10 years we’ve been in this house we have always made a “Halloween Scene” in our big front window, usually involving a lot of the kids toys dressed up and a few costumes on the animals. With both kids out of the house this year I hadn’t really thought of doing that, but I did think of writing “Breast Cancer” in big letters across the window. It’s supposed to be scary, it’s Halloween! But I figured it really wouldn’t be appropriate, especially for the kids coming around. So all I did was dress up the dogs. Trooper was humiliated in a pink sparkly tee shirt and Rosie, well; Rosie was the cutest thing I ever saw in her maroon dolls dress. When she stood up she looked like the strangest child you ever saw. Kids would yell for their mothers to “come look at the dressed up puppy” or giggle as she danced and twirled hoping for a treat herself. One young child asked me why we dressed our dog up. I looked at her with a straight face and said, “well, it’s Halloween” and she looked at me and said, “Oh, OK” and walked away with her candy and I’m sure she was thinking we were the strangest house she stopped at!

Now for me:
The good news is that physically I’m feeling pretty much like my old self. Most of the soreness has gone, I’ve got my appetite back big time and I’m really feeling like I have most of my old energy back. Emotionally I feel like I’m in a never-never land. I really can’t focus on cancer since I feel pretty good. The only indications are if I look at the stitches on my chest and under my arm and the blue spot on my breast (from the dye used in the sentinel node biopsy). Haven’t lost any hair yet but I did start having menopausal symptoms. I work up in the middle of the night with sweat just pouring off me. The problem is what to do with myself. I feel well enough right now to be out working, but how do I look for a job when I know I’ll be sick every 3 weeks and face surgery in January? I could clean up the house, but I’ve only known about my cancer for a month and I never cleaned it all up in the years proceeding, so I don’t think that’s going to happen. I know I must keep busy or depression will set in hard, so here are a few options. I can finish reupholstering the chair I stripped before I got my diagnosis, although I haven’t been able to find the strapping I need just 3 more feet of. I can sew the hat and socks I bought patterns and material for, or put them in the pile of the other material I bought to sew something wonderful with. I could organize a room in my house (same principal as cleaning the house, so not much chance there). I could do an art project, but believe me; Sarah did not get her talent from me.

Maybe I should start small, after all I have been sick… I’ll take a shower and put on ‘outside’ clothes (flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt have felt so good!), put some laundry in the machine (Doug has been keeping up with the underwear, but the jeans and shirts are piling up) and maybe I’ll take the dogs for a walk. That sounds pretty good, productive but not overly ambitious. Maybe I’ll only take the dogs outside around the property, and gee, shits and pants? We can find a few shirts around here someplace… and what’s wrong with wearing flannel pants outside? The shower is a must thought, I do have some dignity!

Continue to tune in to see what Jean does wither her time. As you can tell a lot of it is spent sitting at the computer, but that’s good, right?

Wednesday, November 5, 2002
Oh boy, now I’m neutropenic. That means my white blood count is very low and I am prone to infections. So now I get to wear a mask when I venture outside. I’ve already gotten a little paranoid and keep a small bottle of hand sanitizer in my pocket for times like after I voted using the pen many others had touched that day. So for now, wearing a mask in public (it will go great with my now thinning hair), frequent hand washing (is it OCD or is it cancer? You be the judge), no eating raw fruits and vegetables, not touching plants and flowers and definitely not cleaning out the litter box (not that I ever did anyway). Are we having fun yet?

Another thing I learned today, accessing through my port HURTS. First off the needle looks like a giant fang (I heard the nurse describe it a like a mosquito, but believe me, think tarantula fang) and they said it would sting a little. Ever wonder what it must feel like being bitten by a vampire? Ask me. But to be honest it did ease up after a few very long seconds and I didn’t have to worry about a vein collapsing and it didn’t hurt a bit coming out. So that was my adventure today.

Thursday, November 7, 2002
Today I am feeling frightened. I know my cancer is serious, but I’ve been pretty much assured that the chance of a cure was very good. But now I’ve developed a complication that, although was not unexpected, has truly frightened me. My absolute neutrophil count (ANC) is at 0. That means I am extremely susceptible to infections that can be life threatening. I now look at anyone with a cough or sniffle as a possible assassin. I wash my hands relentlessly and worry about what bottles and containers in my refrigerator might be covered in bacteria. I will wear a mask when I am outside in public and keep the hand sanitizer handy in my pocket. But mostly I worry about every ache and pain, every red spot on my body, every possible sore in my mouth. This isn’t a very happy way to live. Hopefully next week my counts will have gone up and I don't have to be so afraid. I really don’t like having cancer.

Friday, November 8, 2002
I lost about 1/3 of my hair today in the shower. It is such a strange feeling to be rinsing your hair and have fistfuls of it come out in your hands. The bottom of the tub was layered in hair. I guess the rest will come out in the next few days. I don’t know if I’m ready to see the bald me. It doesn’t hurt when it’s coming out, but my head feels like it used to when I would sleep in curlers years ago. I also feel that feeling under my arms and in my pubic area. I guess that’s what hair follicles dying feels like. It’s really eerie.

I keep trying to figure out what lesson I am learning here. All adversity is supposed to teach you something. Was it to better appreciate life? I learned that pretty well when my father died. I had been very aware of how fragile life was and I tried to spend the time with my loved ones as much as possible and to find the joy in every moment. I learned to appreciate many of the simple joys in life after my bout with depression when I could not find joy in anything around me. My struggle to guide and raise Sarah taught me to learn to love and appreciate who someone is and not what you want them to be. To see the accomplishments and not the failures and to learn to trust her and myself. So what is this teaching me? That bad things can happen when you least expect them? That our bodies are not under our own control? That we must endure pain and suffering simple because we have no choice? That I was vain about my hair? That I’m afraid of pain? That laughter can put other people at ease but not always yourself? That we aren’t the heroes we imagine ourselves to be? That we don’t know if we have faith, or if having faith isn’t the end all. That we can feel some many different feelings and emotions all at the same time. I am feeling so confused by all of this. How can I have cancer? How can Doug have to go through this all over again? Why were all our plans turned upside down? Why did I miss 2 years of mammograms? (PLEASE get yours annually) Why does Mudgie eat pine needles and then jump on our bed to throw up?

Enough soul searching for tonight. Tomorrow I have to sew a hat as I think my head will be getting cold in the next day or two.

Sunday, November 10, 2002
Well, I’m down to about 25% of the hair I used to have. I look like a mangy dog.

Now the good news about chemotherapy, it does wonders for the complexion. My eczema has cleared up and because I have no white cells to make pus, I have no pimples. It doesn’t do much for depression though and y’all all know about the hair thing. But a clear face is nice!

I’ve been granted that “you have to be accepted” insurance that costs a fortune. Doug and Henry got the BlueCrossBlueShield family coverage, but Sarah has been rejected. I don’t know if it’s her history of asthma or mental health ‘issues’ and we won’t know until we send in a written request for a written explanation. This really sucks, she’s 18 and we may not be able to get normal health insurance for her? What ever happened to ‘spreading’ the risk around? Or is that only for the perfectly healthy? Anyway. We’ll appeal it and hopefully can get some kind of coverage for her until then.

Thursday, November 14, 2002
Thank you to all who have gently reminded me to keep up with my updates. It’s been a rather uneventful week as I am just hanging around inside trying to not be around any germs or infections. I am also waiting for the rest of my hair to fall out. I am down about 90% and have a few stragglers that seem to be holding on strongly to my head. Talk about bad hair days….

Today I go for my research MRI and tomorrow I have my second chemo treatment. I’ll be half way done with my AC treatment when that’s over. Then we’ll decided on when to do surgery and if I need an additional course of chemo.

Yesterday we picked up Maggie’s ashes from the vets. We’ll decide with the children what to do with them. I do miss her so much, but feel her presence around me a lot. I also feel my dad and my grandparents around me. That’s a nice feeling.

We found out Sarah was rejected for insurance because of her mental health history. So we are going with another company that will accept her because they do not offer mental health coverage. They also do not have our family doctors in their network so we either pay out of pocket or find new doctors. Nice huh?

Well, that’s all for now. Thank you for keeping up with me.

Saturday, November 16, 2002
2nd chemo treatment: it sucks
Pumping my body full of nasty chemicals, doing a number on my intestinal tract, my bone marrow and my hair, but hopefully a bigger number on my cancer cells. I feel pretty yucky so I might not post for a few more days.

Saturday, November 23, 2002
I’m back, more or less. Sorry to be away so long, but this was a horrible week. I was about 10% less nauseous than last time, but it lasted a few more days. Then I have the most horrendous heartburn/indigestion you could ever imagine. I mean, I know where they got the inspiration for the alien jumping out of the man’s chest in the Alien’s movie, I never felt anything hurt so bad. Then constipation and I won’t go into the detail of that. But I have not felt good all week. I don’t know if it’s the chemo or the meds they are giving me to combat the side effects. All in all, it really sucks. Hopefully I am on the upswing now. I’ll try to write more later.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002
OK, nausea, severe heartburn, constipation, impaction, diarrhea, constipation, and so how has your week been? So now I have to numb my bottom up and take an atavan before I have a bowel movement. Not a pretty picture, but it’s worse living it. It’s tough when your tongue is asking for some real food but you know what solids go in have to come out and well, we don’t like that action right now. So, I take an acid reducer, laxative, stool softener, atavan, sleeping pill and a few other goodies every day. I never did drugs when I was a teenager, now I feel like a user popping pills and NEEDING them.

So, tomorrow we head down to Savannah to have Thanksgiving with my Mom and pick Sarah up for her winter break. She, by the way failed all her classes because she missed too many of them. She’s trying to either get an incomplete or withdrawal from all of them. It’s tough your first semester away from home to have your Mom get cancer and have your dog die.

It may not sound like it from this post, but I really am feeling better. We’ll be home on Saturday. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Well, after 2 ½ weeks of feeling awful from my last chemo, I finally feel better. Just in time for my next chemo session this coming Friday. We did figure out that I didn’t drink enough after my last session and that may have caused all of my problems, so I’ll have to try to force more fluids this time.

I still have some hair! It’s very thin but I can at least drag a comb through it. I should have lost it all by now, so maybe it will stay. My nails are turning dark, which is another side effect.

I’m really dreading my next chemo session. I am supposed to “embrace” the chemo as it is saving my life, but I just can’t. But after this one I only have one more left, so I guess I can get through it. I don’t have a choice.

Thursday, December 12, 2002
What a week. Last Thursday we were without heat or electricity. It was cold! Sarah and I slept upstairs in our bed surrounded by dogs and cats and Doug stayed up to keep putting bottles of hot water in the fish and newt tank (luckily we have a gas hot water heater). Doug had to forcibly carry the puppy out side in the morning, as she didn’t want to leave the warm bed! Friday I had my 3rd chemo and was pleased to come home to lights and heat! As the nurse was injecting the most caustic of the chemo she mentioned that the 3rd treatment is usually the worst. Great. But, thanks to Doug’s unrelenting directive to “DRINK” and keeping up with the medication I wasn’t as nauseous as the first two times. I was taking about 9 pills every 8 hours and forcing lots of fluids. It still wasn’t fun. I went in for my Neulasta shot on Monday. Neulasta is the $1500 shot that keeps my neutrophils up at a normal level for 21 days. The side effects are bone pain (from over stimulation of the bone marrow) and may be the cause of my severe indigestion. Double doses of Zantac 75 are helping to keep that in check. The fluids, more fibrous foods and a laxative are keeping the other gastrointestinal problems I had last time in check, more or less. But I am VERY fatigued. Taking a shower or even walking up stairs requires a nap. That of course is making Mudgie the bed cat very happy and we have learned that the puppy is quite fond of naps where she can rest against her human companion also. So I’m making the pets happy!

I’m about to shave my head if I can get up the nerve. What little hair I have left (imagine me as a 108 year old) hurts when I wear a hat, yet at times it’s too cold to go without one. So, we’ll see if I can get Doug to help me. My nail beds have turned dark (a side effect of chemo) so I look like I’ve smashed all my fingers, and I have more spots than usual all over my body. I must say I look stunning (got some land in Florida to sell if you believe that one!). I’ve become pretty much of a hermit, more because I don’t feel well than worrying about how I look, but that has caused me to watch too much TV. Food shows*, decorating shows, animal shows and old movies. So even though I have no desire to eat, I have plans for making some pretty elaborate dishes, redecorate my house (all with really clever and inexpensive features found at my local salvage shop…) and well, I still like the Llama idea.

How am I feeling besides physically? It goes up and down. Sometimes I hardly think about the cancer, just feeling yucky. Other times I really get slammed with the notion that I HAVE CANCER. Cancer is bad, I could die from cancer. Of course that freaks me out a little bit. How could I have cancer? All my other ailments have turned out to me nothing; I was just a complainer with nothing ever seriously wrong with me. Why do I have cancer? I used to believe everything was for a reason, but I, of yet, can’t seem to find the reason for this one. I need reason in my life so this is really hard for me to take. I want to know that I’m going through this for a purpose and will come out better for it in the end. But I want to know why NOW. I am so impatient. I am also very scared. Scared of the possible fatality of all this, but to be honest, more frightened of the process. I don’t do well with pain and discomfort. I dread each chemo treatment and the days or weeks of feeling horrible afterwards. I fear the surgery that will rid me of this cancerous breast, and part of who I use to be. I dread the pain of the incisions (please let them give me all the premeds through the IV and not another painful shot in the butt) and the recovery from general anesthesia. I dread looking at my body partially disfigured. I dread having to make the decision of whether to have one breast or two removed. I dread the possibility of 3 more months of chemo and 5 years on a chemo pill. I dread maybe having to go through daily radiation treatments, especially when it will be focused over my heart. I dread living for at least five years (I don’t dread living… it’s the time, well, you know what I mean) wondering if it’s going to come back.

Mind you, I’m just putting my thoughts down here, I don’t think about this ALL the time. Some times I’m trying to figure out what to do with all the junk in my house when I cleverly redecorate with color, whimsical furnishings and all under $500… Sometimes I’m worrying about Doug who is trying so hard to get in enough hours with his job to make a living all the while taking care of me, going to all my appointments, taking care of the dogs and cats, taking care of his mother’s finances and medical problems on the phone, cooking, doing laundry and anything else that needs to be done. Believe me, he is my hero.

Well, I’d better end this and go eat supper. I’ve got to keep my intestines regular and my energy up!

*Take some roma tomatoes, cut in half, sprinkle on salt, pepper and dried basil and just enough olive oil to coat. Roast in a 200-degree over for 8 hours and you have some great little tomatoes to eat or add some vinegar and blend in a food processor and you have a fast and no fat tomato vinaigrette salad dressing. Blend up alone and you have a great pasta sauce. (TIPical Mary Ellen, Food Network)

Thursday, December 12, 2002 (part II)
I told Doug tonight I want to move back home to Savannah, and I realize now that I just want to move away from this life I'm living right now. I am basically just existing not living. I can't think about anything but feeling bad, I have nothing to do, not that I feel good enough to do anything anyway. I can't really look forward to feeling better for many months so I just watch TV and feel sorry for myself. Gee, at least when I was depressed I could plan ways to kill myself, that was some sort of planning! I feel so fucked up. Boy am I having a negative day. I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to get out of this mood.

Doug and I thought tonight that we could make money selling pissed off Tee shirts.

Like: Everyone else is getting Christmas and all I get is cancer.

or: I've got cancer, how are you?

or: Fuck You Cancer

I'm supposed to "be positive" and think good thoughts, but all I can do is feel angry. I just have to write this all out and hope that I can exorcize this from my being. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better. The sleeping pill is beginning to kick in, so at least I’m off to dream land. Last night I dreamed about a friend of mine who died several years ago of a more deadly form of cancer. We were in the grocery store and she looked GREAT. I looked like shit. We exchanged pleasantries and she took off down another isle. I decided to ask her about chemo, thinking she knew about my cancer. When I found her I asked her about the effects of chemo and she looked so strange, asking me why I wanted to know. When I told her I had breast cancer she looked so worried and gave me such a warm hug. It felt good. Of course I wondered what she had thought about me looking so horrible before she knew why, but maybe on me it looks normal!

I didn’t shave my head yet, but I did charge up the clippers. Good night.

Sunday, December 15, 2002
I woke up an angel! I was taking a nap and when I awoke, I had a white dog tucked under my left arm and a white cat tucked under the other, they were my wings! Of course they weren’t thrilled when I moved to get up, the angelic little doggie growled at me and the cat just gave me the stare of displeasure. But they are my constant companions when I sleep.

I’m feeling a lot better. I even shaved my head down to about ¼ length of what little I had left. I was looking pretty moth eaten and even Doug agreed I look better with my hair shaved. But, it’s cold. How my life has changed. Before I was diagnosed my friend and I were doing 20 minutes on the rowing machines at the gym plus other warm up and weight training. Now I go to the grocery store and can hardly make it down the isles. A shower is cause for a nap. The extra naps are much to the pleasure to my pets though!

Wednesday, December 18, 2002
So my white counts are normal, but my red blood cells are down. I get to get another strange substance injected into my body. But thanks to advertising I already knew about it, Procrit. I get this once a week for 6 weeks and blood work every month. I do love the cancer nurses, both the Procrit and the Nulasta sting when injected too fast. These nurses all take their time (amazing in this hurry up world) and inject slowly to cause as little sting as possible. In all of this the best thing has been all these wonderful nurses, God bless them.

I’m still fatigued as all get out and I get to get a temporary handicapped-parking sticker. This will be wonderful the next time I have to go to the hospital, parking there is horrible and I usually end up way in the back of the parking deck. Hello front row parking!

I had to go to the eye doctor yesterday and as I walked in I removed my hat (I hat wearing things on my head) and got such a look from all the people standing at the front desk. They all tried to look away or look nonchalant, but in the split second I could see the shocked look I realized that we humans cannot hide our feelings well at all. To put them all at ease I said, “This is my new look, like it?” Then they could ask about my cancer. People just don’t know what to say. I remember coming up with a saying after I was hospitalized for depression about 8 years ago. I knew people knew, but no one would talk about it. So I had a Tee shirt made up with a picture of a woman with a pink elephant on her nose. It said, “We both know there is a pink elephant on my nose, it’s OK to ask if it itches.” We tend to think if we don’t say it, it’s not obvious. Hey you all out there, I’m bald and I have cancer. If you say something it’s not going to revel a secret I didn’t know! But then I think there are people out there who don’t want to talk about it all the time, so in reality, I don’t know the answer to how to handle talking to people about bad stuff.

I have 8 more days to feel good and then my LAST chemo of the AC, or at least I sure hope so!

Sunday, December 22, 2002
Except for a few aches and fatigue, I’m feeling pretty good. I can’t do much because I get so tired, but just not feeling sick is a pleasure. Now I’m trying to psych myself up for my last chemo session and feeling sick again for a few days. Now that I am somewhat enjoying food, even though my taste buds are not at all normal and food still taste funny, I dread the times when even forcing water down my throat is a chore. Oh well, it’s the last time, or it better be.

I am really going back and forth on the decision on whether to remove one or both breasts. On one hand, I don’t want to have to worry all the time about if I feel a lump in that breast or not (especially since I NEVER did feel the cancer in my left breast) and I don’t EVER want to have to go through this chemo again. But, if it goes and I regret it, I can’t put it back on. I’ll also be totally flat up front and I used to wish for big breasts for so much of my younger years. Oh what to do….. Well, any decision has to wait anyway until I meet with my surgeon in January. How does one decided about cutting of one’s body parts? Will I miss them? Do I want to go through the extra pain and discomfort of reconstruction? Will I resent having to put plastic boobs in my bra? I’ve gone braless since my diagnosis (kind of a rebellion against them for doing this to me) so it’s not like I’ve been wearing anything that would revel if I had breasts or not. I like big oversized shirts. But, it hasn’t been summer yet when I like to wear Tee shirts.

We have another worry; we can’t get health insurance for my 18-year-old daughter. 2 insurance companies have rejected her because of her history of asthma, tourettes and arthritis. I’m on a very expensive ‘guaranteed plan’ and we might have to buy one for her. I thought insurance was to spread the cost, not only insure the people who won’t use it. I hope the insurance CEOs who get paid millions of dollars, have fancy houses and great perks never get cancer. But then, they can get special treatment, don’t need to worry about money so all they have to focus on is getting well…. So my extraordinarily high insurance premiums and the money saved from denied services pay their big salaries and I get to not only suffer from cancer, but worry about how we are going to pay all our bills and what happens if our daughter gets sick? I’m not saying that CEOs shouldn’t get paid for their work, but millions of dollars a year? I could live great for the rest of my life (well, depending on what medical stuff I might incur if my cancer should spread, but then that would shorten my life wouldn’t it…) with a 10th of their income. Then 9 other people could live well also. If we just wanted to live contented and free from worry about homelessness and starvation then lot more of us could live on what they take home every year. Oops, sorry about the political tirade, it’s just very frustrating sometimes. We’ll be OK, but I know lots of families who lose everything they have ever built up after something like this. It just doesn’t seem fair, especially when dealing with cancer and serious health issues is bad enough.


Thursday, December 26, 2002
Well, it’s the eve before what is HOPEFULLY my last AC chemo treatment. I am really not looking forward to 4 days of being sick, but then, this stage of my cancer treatment will be done with. With in a few weeks I’ll have surgery and then we’ll see what needs to be done. None of this is something to look forward to, but I have no choice.

One of our cats has been diagnosed with kidney disease, so he’s on a special diet. Four cats, all eating different foods: one gets normal, one gets kidney, one gets old cat food and the youngest gets fat cat food. The puppy gets regular dog food and the other one gets health maintenance food. So, it’s gourmet dining for the Holstein animals here.

Henry spent all yesterday afternoon making a hug pot of chili. He made a special pot for me without the hot stuff, but for himself, Doug and Sarah he made it hot. They say it’s good, and it sure looked pretty and smelled good. If he can’t get a job in the gaming industry, maybe he can be a short order cook somewhere! He said mine was nothing more than a meat and bean stew, but I liked it.

Sarah goes back to school in a week. She wants to go with me tomorrow for my chemo treatment. It will be nice having her sit with me and give Doug a chance to stay home and work. We’ve had some really good talks and she’s a good kid. I’m very proud of her. Actually I’m very proud of both my children. They are good people. I am very lucky!

I do finding myself being somewhat bitter. I don’t think I was ever a bitter person, but I tend to resent all those out there who seem to be riding life without any trials or tribulations. The man who just one that big lottery was already a millionaire. Why do we struggle AND have cancer? I don’t like the way I’ve become. At times I’m so pessimistic and I really resent my cancer. Besides my illness the only other thing I seem to comprehend is the terrible possibilities of war and terrorist attacks which would involve bio, chemical and nuclear weapons. Not much of a bright outlook is it? Then there is the possibility of my cancer spreading or coming back in a year or two. On top of that I’m dealing with the here and now of losing a breast or both in the next few weeks. Gee, and I wonder why I’m so depressed? I need to cheer up. My friend has this great Tee shirt that says “Just snap out of it.” That is what I need to do! Cancer be damned, I’m going to be a happy person again! That’s the ticket; I’ll just stop being depressed. So what if I have cells going wild in my body trying to take over, so what if I’m going to be semi or fully flat chested again (you don’t know how I longed for bigger breasts when I was in my teens), so what if they keep pushing dangerous chemicals into my blood stream that make me sick and tired. Oh boy, I’m depressed again….

But, it’s my last session of this chemo therapy… YEAH!!!!

Wednesday, January 01, 2003
Happy New Year. That’s a relative term! It was happy in that I was able to keep some food down, but I still can’t drink fluids without it hurting. Actually, one thing about this New Year was easier. Every year I struggle with resolutions. I try to pick something doable, but not wasteful. I usually don’t keep them since they mostly have to do with exercise or organizing the house. This year was simple; it was to survive this cancer ordeal I’m going through. It was so nice not to have to agonize over a resolution, that one just came to me, no need to think about it!

I’m not feeling great. Very weak and I KNOW I need to drink more, but I’ve had problems with my esophagus again and drinking fluids just seems to hurt. I would rate this chemo session as second worst of the four. BUT, I should be on the upswing, at least I hope so. On Friday we are driving down to Savannah to take Sarah back to school. It will be a short trip but nice to get some TLC from my mother. We have to come back on Sunday, Doug has work to do. I am also starting another round of tests. Next week is another MRI of my breast. The week after is another mammogram. Sometime I get another heart scan and then I have an appointment to talk to the surgeon. The week of the 20th I’ll have my surgery. They want to wait until my counts get back to normal, but the doctor did say I’d need to have a transfusion before my surgery. This is getting more fun all the time….

I’ve also been very weepy lately. I don’t know why, and it can be about anything. Poor Henry came to my bedroom door to ask a question and I broke into tears. Sweet child asked if he could do anything for me! I asked him to sit and talk with me and he did. Luckily for him the puppy was trying to play with Jacob the cat so he didn’t have to listen to too much of my blabbering. Henry is just like his father and not one to deal with a sobbing woman very well. Sarah on the other hand came in to complain about her life and I complained about mine so we were just very happy to sit there and cry together.

2003, can you believe it!

Saturday, January 11, 2003
Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, but I have had absolutely no energy. If my hemocrat doesn’t go up before I have surgery I’ll have to have a transfusion. Right now my surgery is scheduled for Jan. 22, which is my mother’s birthday. On Monday I have a repeat MUGA (heart scan), mammogram and ultrasound. Then Wednesday I meet with all the doctors at the breast clinic, so it’s a busy week.

Now that I have a date for the surgery, I’m getting cold feet. I know I have to do this, and I’m ready to rid my body of the tumor, but I always worry about going under anesthesia. So I’ll get my will in order, let Doug know all my wishes and hope for the best.
There is a woman I met when Doug and I did the “healing through words” workshop at the cancer support center. She’s about my age and has metastatic breast cancer. It had already spread to her spine when discovered. She goes for chemo every Friday and knows this disease will kill her eventually. But she has such a positive attitude. She is single and a teacher so her students are her family. She continues to teach and run the Quiz Bowel team. I really admire her. Her name is Carol, and I wanted to write about her here so people will know about her. I don’t know why I wanted to write about her, but I felt I should.

Sunday, January 12, 2003
I'm going in for another mammogram tomorrow. I am so afraid that they will find that the cancer has spread. I don’t know why I should have that fear but it’s there. I am also scared that something bad will happen during the surgery and I will die. I worked in a hospital and anesthesia always worries me. Poor Doug, or maybe good for him, but he is so optimistic he can't seem to understand my fears. I so want this all to be just one big bad dream. I know there are stages to grief: disbelief, bargaining, anger, acceptance (I don't know if there are any others in-between) but I seem to be bouncing between them all. These past 3 1/2 months seem to be a fog, like lost time. I hate this. But alas, it’s real and I have to accept that. Even if nothing bad happens, I will live the rest of my life worrying about a reoccurrence. It seemed to me that if I worried about something it never happened, shame on me for not worrying about breast cancer before this! I hope all of your women out there are getting your mammograms.

Well, give me a few more weeks of being pessimistic and then I’ll get in gear and start looking towards the bright side. I’ll see the recovery ahead and start living my life again!

Thursday, January 16, 2003
Good news, the tumor has shrunk up a bit from the chemo! I still need a total mastectomy and I’ve optioned for a bilateral. I just don’t want to have to worry about the other breast developing cancer. So the surgery is set for next Thursday, the 23rd. I’m half relieved and half terrified having the actual date and it being in just a week. But I know it’s for the best. Hopefully they will get it all out and I’ll be cancer free! The next thing on my mind is how are we going to prevent the cats from stepping all over me when I get home from the surgery (I’ll only be in overnight). Doug thinks at bed tray will work, I was thinking of LOTS of pillows. We’ll figure something out, or the cats get banned from our bedroom, which I’d really hate to do to them.

A question, is there a ritual for saying goodbye to body parts? I’ve been thinking about that and there should be. I mean, I’ve had these breasts since I was about 13 and they (well one) did feed my child. I’ll have to think on this one and come up with a perfect ‘good by’ sentiment for them!

In reality I do have one regret, I won’t have a nice soft chest to lay my potential grand babies on… but hopefully I’ll be around to hold them, so it’s a fair trade off I suppose.

Monday, January 20, 2003
It’s amazing how much I’m feeling these days. Just a little jump in my hemocrat can make a big difference. I’m not as tired and have a lot more energy. Well, I guess that will last until Thursday, then I’m back to whimpering sick patient again!

Speaking of that, it is amazing how your mind can be in two places at once. On one hand I would be really unhappy if they postponed the surgery, I do want to get it over with. But at the very same time, I don’t want it. I keep thinking that this time next week I won’t have any breasts. I’m still trying to decide how to handle the good-by. I mean, I’ve had them for at least 30 years; I’ve got to make some sort of send off. I wonder if there is a Jewish ritual for losing a body part? My friend suggested letting 2 balloons go up into the air, or burning my bras. Have a little booby by-by party? How do you say good-by to your breasts?

Then there are the practical matters, how do I keep the cats from stepping on my chest for the next few weeks? Or refuse the puppy that loves for me to pick her up and let her rest on my shoulder? Damn this cancer, it’s really going to put a crimp in my pets’ lives! Oh well.

I don’t know if I’ll post before Thursday, but I’ll try.

Wednesday, January 22, 2003
My surgery tomorrow is at 7:30 am. We have to be at the hospital at 6 am. I’ll be glad to get this over with. I picked up a camisole that has pockets for the drains. It also has polyester breasts I can ‘customize’ and put in the camisole. So, should I be perky or voluptuous? Or I can be flat, which might be the most comfortable.

I’ll be home Friday and will try to post whenever I’m able to.

Wish me luck and say by-by boobies!

Monday, January 27, 2003
I’m still here! I guess I did well in surgery, it lasted 3 hours and the doctor told Doug that he found everything as he expected. I wasn’t in much pain that first day, but was quite a bit sorer on Friday. We could have stayed one more night, but I was ready to go home so we were discharged around 5 pm on Friday. That night and Saturday all my upper body muscles hurt like crazy. The pain meds helped, but moving was a real chore. In the last 2 days the muscle soreness has gotten much better. The incision area twitches a little and itches a lot. Most of the discomfort comes from the very tight sports bra they are making me wear for at least another week. I also have drains, one on each side that Doug gets to empty 3 times a day. I did take a sit down shower on Saturday and under all the bandages, and with my baldhead, I look like an 80 year old man. I guess I’ll have to work on the body image thing. But I am SO VERY relieved to have the surgery over with and the cancer gone, I don’t care how I look!

Wednesday, January 29, 2003
And the good news is…. I am cancer free! No more chemotherapy, no radiation, only 5 years of taking tamoxofin, which is standard procedure! Yeaaaaaaaaa, I’m doing the happy dance!!!! I still have some recovery to do, but this was the best news I could get. The drains will come out on Friday and I have to learn not to baby my arms so much. I may have to keep getting the procrit for a while, but I can handle that. I also have to get the port removed from my chest, but they may wait a wile on that. In the mean time I look like Buddha: bald head, flat chest and big belly. Right now I think it’s the luckiest look I can think of!

Thank you to everyone who has called, emailed, written or even just read my ranting for the last few months, I have felt your good thoughts and it has given me strength! I’ll not end this journal yet and I am still traveling on this journey, but I’m just enjoying a few days sitting in a beautiful fields of wild flowers, the sun shinning down from a bright blue sky and the birds singing. Can you tell I’m happy!


Friday, January 31, 2003
A lot of emotions have been settling down in my head the last few days. Because we had to put our dog Maggie to sleep the week after I was diagnosed (she was getting sick, but really failed that week) I don’t think I ever really had a chance to mourn for her. That’s been hitting me lately. I am also, even though I’ve been given a great prognosis, feeling like at 46 my life has changed drastically, being in menopause, having no breasts and having to take a pill daily for the next five years which could have serious and deadly side effects. But then, when I went to get my procrit shot today at the infusion room, I saw the woman whom I told y’all about who had had her bilateral mastectomy the day I had my sentinel node biopsy. She had her whole family there with her. Anyway, she was undergoing her chemotherapy and we asked how each was doing. I told her I had just had my mastectomy but was doing well and I asked her what chemo she was on. She said AC (which was what I had had) and then added she was also on something else (I can’t remember the name) because she has bone cancer also. I felt so sad for her. When I got in the car I told Doug how lucky I felt. Funny how a different perspective can change things.

I am also still trying to understand my own mindset on all of this. I still don’t always feel this is real, yet I KNOW it is. I think I should be feeling one particular way and I just don’t. I guess I think I know what other people are feeling and I should feel the same way, but the mind is a funny thing. Our perception of how others feel mostly does not match the reality of what they are feeling. Also, feeling are so individual and not really under our control. They just are and we have to just let them be. They are messages as to what is going on within ourselves and change as everything in us and surrounding us changes. We need to take all in consideration, not one particular ‘feeling or thought,’ when making up our minds about how to react, or live with any particular decisions. I can be happy, sad, scared and emboldened all with in a few minutes of each other. I need to base my actions them all, not just one.

Also, I find that I put on a very strong face to others. It’s not just a façade, but also a way for me to deal with it. I may not actually feel so light about all this, but in talking that way to someone else, it helps add that lightness to the darker feeling I may be having. It also protects me from acting on emotions that I’m not ready to deal with yet. It is important for me to acknowledge this to myself, that this dialectic of both feeling being true is OK. That one is not my ‘true’ feeling and the other is a fake. That was a hard concept for me to accept. And it’s OK for me to allow my darker feeling in sometimes and to express my light hearted ones.

Speaking of light hearted, this may not strike some as funny, but has really tickled my funny bone. I get a card in the mail for every appointment made for me at the UNC Hospitals. Sometimes, when I am to see several doctors I’ll get several cards, sometimes with appointments only minutes apart. As you know last Thursday, the 23rd at 7:30 am, I had my bilateral mastectomy. On Saturday, the 25th I received a card in the mail for my check up appointment on the 29th AND for a mammogram on the 23rd, 10 am. I figured the computer made an error. In a conversation with Rachel, who has been coordinating all my appointments and treatments I told her about the ‘appointment’ and she said well, technically, you did, or at least part of you did go down for a mammogram. Seems that specimens are routinely sent down to be x-rayed to pinpoint all the suspicious areas for the pathologist. But she was surprised that they made an appointment for it. When I was in x-ray school we would refer, although taught not to, our patients as the “gall bladder in room 2” or “bilateral ankle in chair 3.” Gee, I really was the “breast in tray 1.” Well, it made me laugh to think about it!

Question: Is it still considered flashing if there are no breasts?

Friday, February 07, 2003
I’m recovering a little more each day. I have some stiffness in my arms, phantom and shooting pains that “may or may not” go away. I didn’t know about this lingering pain business… I do my exercises every day hoping to alleviate the stiffness, so it might get better. What fun I’m having!

But, I am feeling better and have no major stuff coming up for the future. I still have to have my port removed, but that should only involve some bee sting type pain as they numb up the area and remove it under local. I will be checked every 3 months, then 6 months and then yearly for the next 10 years.

I really tired of all this pain and discomfort and bedtime seems to be the worst. Probably a combination of the day’s activity and no distractions from my body’s discomforts. Thank goodness for sleeping pills. I’ll deal with that addiction later on. I did wake up with my angle wings again, little white dog on one side, little white cat on the other. But since they both hate and fear each other, it makes for an interesting pair of wings!

Monday, February 10, 2003
The mind is a funny thing; it can accept things at different levels at different times. I believe this is a protective measure so that too much information doesn’t “click” all at one and overwhelm the person. For instance, I’ve known about having to have a mastectomy for several months now, and I’ve been without my breasts for 2 ½ weeks now. But only last night did I really feel the loss of my breasts. I missed them, they were a part of my body for a long time now and they were gone. My body is different and I had to cry and mourn this loss.

I know I’m getting frustrated with this constant pain and discomfort. I don’t have mobility back in my arms yet, especially the right one. Where my skin isn’t numb, it’s hypersensitive. It’s kind like a bad sunburn. Then there are the shooting pains I get as nerves awake and look for their former connections. And the tightness. Where once I was soft and squishy, my skin is pulled tight, like a band going around my chest. But I am alive and I don’t have to worry about the cancer continuing to grow and spread. That is good consolation. I can finally call my self a cancer survivor!

Saturday, February 15, 2003
It’s funny how little things can mean so much. Doug and I had a very pleasant Valentine’s Day yesterday. News of another ice storm sent us in search of all our batteries, candles and fish keeping warm equipment. Doug cleaned up and tested the fireplace then we went out for canned food and extra batteries and candles. He gave me some pretty tulips and a sweet card, but his real gift came this morning and he doesn’t even know it. We were gathering up all the laundry so we don’t run out of underwear when the power goes off. As he was taking the stuff down stairs I said wait and I removed my robe and tee shirt so he can wash those also. Now, vanity has never been one of my strong points, but I do worry about how my altered appearance looks, as I’ve not gotten used to it yet. At the doctor’s office the other day I noticed when I was being examined Doug was averting his eyes. When I asked him if it bothered him he said, “No, I just didn’t want to stare.” I worried that he was just trying not to hurt my feelings and really doesn’t want to look at my now scarred up chest. Well, this morning as I was taking off my tee shirt he commented how the scars were getting smaller and then looked at the entire area affected by the surgery and proclaimed that it was healing nicely and looked good. I can’t tell you how much this meant to me. The fact that he was comfortable with my deformity, that it didn’t repulse him and that he can see the improvement that each day of healing makes. It really is the simple things that mean so much!

As far as my recovery, I am doing my stretches several times a day. I see a lot of improvement, but there is still a lot of pain in my right arm. I have to remind myself to stand up straight and not allow my shoulders to hunch over and undo all the good stretching I’ve done. I am also having several hot flashes a day. That might come in handy if our power goes out again in this storm!

Well, we’re off to find some lamp oil and another bundle of firewood.

Sunday, February 23, 2003
So we never lost power and the storm turned out rather mild, at least we were prepared!

I had my port a cath removed on Friday. The port is a metal rimed thingy with a rubber center that was placed under my skin just below the collarbone. A catheter is threaded through a vein from it into a larger vein near my heart. It was used to administer the chemotherapy. It was removed under local. It wouldn’t have been that bad except my skin is pretty sensitive in that area and my anxiety level was at or about peak. They had me wearing a mask and hat (to protect me from my own germs?) and I was lying on a hard x-ray table (it was preformed in the vascular x-ray department). The numbing medicine stung like heck before it numbed me up. He told me to count to ten and for some strange reason, I counted backward, but it didn’t ease the pain any, especially as he injected more to numb it up deeper. Then the doctor was too nice to tell just about what he was doing just before he did it. I’m not good with that. When he says, “I’m cutting now, can you feel that?” I felt it even though I didn’t. I had also had developed a lot of scar tissue around the port and it was difficult to remove. I kept thinking he had to be done with the tugging and scraping and then he’d say, “Almost got it,” and work some more. I was not a happy camper. After he did finally pull it out, he held it up to show me. I felt a little lightheaded by then. Then he sewed me up with stiff black stitches, unlike the surgeon who stitched under the skin and then used steri strips to close the incision. So I’ve got to have those removed in 10 days. To make matters worse, when I go home I was getting something to drink and hit my head on the cabinet door. My body is so tired of pain I just stood there and sobbed. Poor Doug didn’t know what to do except put his arm around me.

The next day we had a tornado watch and in trying to keep one of our cats downstairs he (the cat) tore out five of his back claws. We didn’t know this until I saw blood on our bed. He hid the rest of that day, but today he and I cuddled and commiserated about our pain.

On Tuesday I may be driving down to Savannah to take my daughter back to school (she had been snowed in DC all last week and finally got a train here on Friday) and I’ll visit with my Mom for a few days. The only problem is missing my physical therapy sessions. I’ll just have to keep stretching on my own.

Oh, to add to my misery, today I was eating some soy ice cream and got my lip stuck on the frozen bottom of the spoon. So now my lip is sore :( and hurts when I pout….so I’ll try smiling :).

Friday, March 07, 2003
Sometimes the enormity of all this hits me, other times I just go about my daily business only mildly aware that my body is markedly different. I just looked at a picture of me with hair and I was surprised how odd it looked. I should have taken pictures of my breasts before they were removed and of myself balder. I now have nice fuzz all over my head and it’s so soft! My mobility is getting much better and I am surprised by the stretch I can now get with my arms. If I miss a day though, I can feel the difference. This is going to be a constant battle I suppose. I am also surprised by my fear of the cancer reoccurring. I guess it goes along with the diagnosis.

Emotionally I am dealing with my child who had a bad experience at school. She didn’t finish any of her courses first quarter because she missed too many classes being depressed after my diagnosis and the death of our dog. Second quarter she was ready to go back and do what she had to do to get to class. But she hit another depression when I had my surgery, then got the flu and missed classes and then went to Washington, DC for a convention and got snowed in there. So, she again missed too many classes. She realized that she wasn’t mature enough or motivated enough to attend SCAD so she decided to leave and move to Texas with some friends and get a job and learn to be more self-reliant. I think it was a good decision. But she had wanted to go back and finish out the quarter. She had been having some roommate problems and had talked about switching roommates, but nothing was ever finalized. Well, while she was stuck in DC, her roommate and another girl MOVED HER OUT. Her friend noticed her stuff in the hallway and called the RA and Sarah. They had already moved ½ of her stuff into another room of a girl Sarah did not even know. The RA made them move some of the stuff back to the original room until Sarah’s returned. Because they have strict rules about room switches, this was an illegal move, even if Sarah had agreed to it. When I was finally able to get Sarah back to Savannah we went to her original room and her stuff was piled into a corner and someone else had moved into her bed. Her refrigerator had been unplugged (full of food) and we had no idea where there rest of her stuff and an empty bed was. To shorten the story a bit, we finally found an RA and got into the other room where more than ½ of Sarah’s stuff was piled. She decided to go ahead and stay in this room since most of her personal belongings were there, and she really didn’t want to face her old roommate. Luckily I stayed a few days. Sarah couldn’t find her art supplies and work for her classes. Then the girl who had moved into her room, had the nerve to come to her door and ask when she’d be moving the rest of her stuff, no apology given. We know that the RAs and Resident Director had told the girls that this was the wrong thing to do and how upset everyone was, so they had an idea that they were at fault. When we finally got an RA to go with us to move the rest of Sarah’s stuff, her hanging clothes had been thrown in a pile on the floor, her posters had been bent and her clothes draws had been emptied into garbage bags. The old roommate and this other girl had the nerve to complain about the smell from the refrigerator that they had unplugged one week prior. I was livid, but Sarah kept her cool. She said she didn’t want to give them any justification (like there could be any) for their actions. Times I’d see her clench her fists and walk away so as not to strangle one of them. I was so proud of her, yet so pained to see her hurt like that. She did nothing to deserve that treatment except be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But, as the Resident Director was complimenting us on our non-aggressive attitude (the other girl’s mother had yelled at the RA wanting to know why Sarah hadn’t finished moving her stuff out yet. “Well, she hasn’t been in town and doesn’t even know about the move….”) I had only one answer, once you get cancer, this stuff pales in comparison. But Sarah did feel hurt and invaded. She come home with me and so ended her career at art school.

As much as I had been looking forward to the empty nest, the other night when both of my children were at home and in their beds, it felt so good and complete. I like having my children around, but I also know they need to spread their wings. I only hope they don’t end up living out west.

Thursday, March 20, 2003
The good news, my mobility is nearly all back in my arms and I’ve been dismissed from Physical Therapy. I’ll actually miss it. The PT, a woman named Kay, is also a breast cancer survivor and was very helpful in answering a lot of my questions. She gave me some pretty nifty rubber band like strips to start strengthening my arms and chest. I also went back to the gym. But that night, besides being a little sore from doing a little too much, I was also very depressed. I don’t know if it was the PT ending, or going back to the gym, something that had been a part of my normal life before cancer. I had picked up Dr. Susan Love’s The Brest Book and it talked in there about how life after cancer will never be the same. It’s so true. I don’t know if I would want it to be, but I again have no choice because I am now both physically and emotionally different. But at times I do wish all this would just go away. It won’t. I am getting more used to my new body image, it doesn’t look so strange to me any more. I still have some pain and discomfort, but the scars are lightening up and don’t look so scary. I’m also used to the flat look and might even thumb my nose at all those busty women who seem to be everywhere, especially in TV adds, and go with the flat look. I’m going to purchase some prosthesis, but may only wear them for special occasions. So now, along with deciding if I want to wear earrings I can decide if I want to wear breasts or not!

The Tomoxafin has given me some mighty bad hot flashes. I ended up buying a bunch of cheap fans at South of the Border coming back from Savannah last time to keep around the house. I remember my mother always fanning herself and I could not understand it, I do now. Even my sleeping partner, Mudgie the cat, got up and moved one night when I was having a number of cover flinging moments!

Today I bought shampoo! Yes, my hair is returning. It’s still quite short, but filling in nicely. It’s not so much a cancer chemo look; it might could be mistaken for a political statement. So far it isn’t curly and not red, but it is hair and I am happy to have it returning.

Saturday, March 29, 2003
We’ve been without the internet for a week now and are all going through mucho internet withdrawal! Hopefully it will be back up tonight.

What denotes femininity? Especially for a person who isn’t known for wearing makeup and much other than jeans and a tee shirt? Well, I’m dealing with that now. Although my friend tells me I still look feminine, I have concerns as I venture out in public with very short hair and a flat chest. I started wearing earrings again, but with guys wearing them, and not just in one ear, that doesn’t mean much now a days.

Then there is the subject of my scars. I tried to buy a bathing suit last week and the only one I found without cups that I cannot now fill, was a Speedo that was cut very deep under my arms. It not only showed my scars, but at the end of my scars near my back I have 2 big puckers, one that resembles a nipple. I was pretty depressed to say the least. Then last week Sarah and I went to Wal-Mart and I found one that was cut high enough to cover the scars and nipple thingy, but it was very uncomfortable. I found a second suit that was much more comfortable, but showed more of the scar, and the nipple thingy (the doctor called it a “dog ear” and it can be fixed with plastic surgery at some time if I want to). So, do I respect society’s norms and hid my deformity, or do I go for comfort? God love my daughter, who said to forget what others think and go for comfort. So, sometime in the near future I will be learning how brave I actually am when I decided to use the pool at the gym, deformities be damned! It helps that there are a lot of elderly women at the gym so it’s not like I’d be swimming along a bunch of Miss America look a likes!

As I said in the previous post, I went back to the gym and the same day got dismissed from physical therapy. I also got very depressed. I don’t know if it was going back to what I had been doing before I got diagnosed, or if it was being told I was pretty much back to normal and I didn’t need the physical therapy anymore. I don’t feel normal and I will never be back to where I was before the cancer diagnosis. I think what I need to do is find my new norm. No, life will never be like it was before, physically I have changed, and emotionally I have faced death, pain and a total disruption of my life. I will never be where I was before. But, that isn’t necessarily bad, I think I have grown throughout all of this and I have a new perspective on life and on who I am. But it is still disturbing when I am first faced with all of these changes. Although I did find some old photographs taken before I was married. I was really skinny, and flat as can be in the chest department. So, I haven’t really ‘lost’ what I had, just gone back quite a few years. That and my reemerging stamina at the gym had me feeling pretty good the other day. As I was plodding along on the treadmill the other day I was remembering how awful I had felt just a few months ago, and how walking just a few steps could completely wipe me out, I was pretty proud of how far I had come. Of course now my knees are giving me trouble, seems age has also come upon me….

Monday, April 14, 2003
My Internet has been out again for almost a week. I hope it will work for a bit now.

I am back working at full capacity at the gym. I’m doing about 20 minutes of aerobic exercise 5 days a week and then 3 days I add weights. I really feel good and more energetic and I’ve also gotten to my 10% goal at weight watchers. All in all I’ve lost 19 pounds!

Sarah has moved to Dallas where she is staying with friends and looking for a job. The night before she left we went to the mall to shop for bras. Well, she managed to find this little black dress on sale. I really hadn’t planned on buying her a dress, but boy did she look good in that dress. All I could say was “Damn, you look good” and pay for it. I never looked that good. After that she asked me where I would go to buy falsies and I told her that the Norstrums store in the mall sold prosthesis, did she want to go look with me. “Sure” she said, so off my daughter and I go to buy me a pair of breasts.

The clerk was a sweet young thing and tried to be delicate but I just pulled off my shirt to show her my scars and figure out what size I would want. Sarah hadn’t seen my incisions and thought they didn’t look that bad. The first pair of breasts the salesgirl brought were stick ons. After being flat chested for over 2 moths now, it looked really strange to see me with breasts again, especially since they were stuck on my chest and weren’t exactly my color. But they were perky! Next I tried on ‘stuff in your bra’ types. Sarah was fascinated with the stick on breast and sat with it stuck on her knee the rest of the time. We all agreed that I’d do better with a C cup unless I lost a lot more weight. It was kind of nice seeing myself wearing a bra and having boobs again, but I am really getting OK with seeing me with out them. I want to go to anther place that sells them where the salesperson is a breast cancer survivor herself so I can a better opinion on which kind is really the most comfortable.

I did have an episode the other night when I really missed my breasts. Doug and I had gone to the hardware store and driving home it was really cold. I felt it especially in my chest area and missed the warmth the fat and breast tissue gave to that area. I also missed having a place to rest my arms on when I crossed them over my chest.

Last week Doug and participated in the UNC Relay for Life event. I got to walk in the survivors lap. I met a woman who was a 35-year breast cancer survivor and I felt so happy talking to her. Walking around the track I thought about when I was first going through all that chemo and I didn’t know when I could be called a survivor. It was a touching moment to be able to do this. Then that had our caretakers join us, so Doug and I walked around, hand in hand. It was sweet. I was surprised when they told us that a bus would be taking us all out to the Carolina Club for dinner. The club (a very fancy alumni club) had donated free dinners for all the survivors and their caretakers. You get some perks for having cancer! On the way in there was a meeting of the medical alumni and one woman saw us coming in in our jeans, with tee shirts, leis and banners and said to someone, “gee, we’re at the wrong party.” I should have said, “You don’t want to join our club.” But, it really was a very fun and enjoyable evening. I hope to go to the Susan Korman breast cancer run in June. I kind of like getting to be acknowledged as a survivor, no, I think I just like being a survivor!

Tuesday, April 22, 2003
Life is good. I’m breathing! Funny how simple things tend to make me happy now days. I spend a lot more time “in the moment” than I used to. I stop what I’m doing to pet one of the animals, to smile at my husband or to look at a flower. It’s nice.

My hair is growing in thick, the dark nails are growing out and look nice and pink again and my energy has returned. Well, not actually returned, I feel it for the very first time. So far I’ve been using my extra energy to clean out and organize old paper work and clean the house. As I told my cousin, it’s amazing how much dust can accumulate in 10 years! I am exercising religiously and working on my diet. I’ve made lunch dates with several old friends and am writing letter to others. I feel kind of like a flower blooming with the spring. I even went on a scooter ride with Doug, my first since my cancer diagnosis. The best part is I feel great. I really do. I find myself smiling for no apparent reason, finding things all around me that give me joy. I laugh a lot. Either I have really developed a wonderful and highly advanced mental state, or the chemo has totally fried my brain…


Monday, May 12, 2003
Well, I had a great check up last Friday. My white and red counts are still a little low, but not bad. Nothing else seems to look bad so I’m feeling pretty good. I see the surgeon again in 3 months. It’s now been 8 months since my diagnosis. For some reason it seems so much longer. I guess I’ve been through so much that it doesn’t seem like it could fit into just 8 months. I am back exercising at the gym 5 days a week, an hour to 1 ½ hours each time. I am struggling with watching my weight, it kind of hard to deny myself those wheat-free chocolate chip cookies, but I’d really like to slim down so I’m trying. I did sign up for the Susan G Komen 5K race for the cure in June. So I’m trying to “train” for that. I really like attending these survivor events. Joining the cancer club really wasn’t much fun, but the other members are really such nice people; I’ve been blessed with getting to know them.

Once again, sitting, not really thinking about very much, I was hit with the reality of having had cancer. It is so strange when it hits me. I get this feeling of horror and then deep despair. I usually cry for a while then I realize that Yes, I had cancer, I went through all that chemo and I’ve lost my breasts, but I GOT THROUGH IT! I feel empowered by all of that. I can get through bad things. I can come out of it stronger. As my body recovers and builds strength through all my exercise, so does my mind. At times I fear for my life, will the cancer recur, will my life be shortened from all the chemo. But, you know, we have no guarantee of how long we will live. I try to make each day count and enjoy what I have. Each day now is a bonus.

Now I have to learn to live with really curly short hair. It kind of stick up in places of it’s own choosing, going this way or another, not abiding by any of my own wishes or the attempts to comb it. It’s also growing very fast, or seems to be. I LOVE IT!


Wednesday, May 14, 2003
Well, I have breasts! They came off a shelf and are stuffed into special pockets of my special bras, but I look like a woman again. Mind you I didn’t want to be too much of a stand out so I didn’t go for the voluptuous, I went for modest. I think my husband is a little disappointed, but I gave him the chance to put in a request! I did try a larger pair at first, but although I wanted perky, these were down right saluting! Wasn’t me. I took my best friend with me and let me tell you, you haven’t bonded with anyone until you go breast shopping with her! We laughed so hard; the poor saleswoman didn’t know what to make of us. They have clear prosthesis to be used in swimming suites. We thought they be great with some kind of lights in them, maybe even lights that spin. The sales person asked “but, who would see them” and I sheepishly said “my husband..” Anyway, it was a fun experience. Later that day we were going somewhere and I announced to my 21 year old son “Look what Mommy bought today” as I thrust my chest out proudly. He started to walk away so I said “Henry?” and he said “I’m ignoring you” poor thing was so embarrassed! He had this cute little grin on his face he was trying to hide.

What surprises me is that I really do like wearing them. I felt like a woman for the first time since I got cancer. I didn’t expect to feel that way. I thought I’d hate them. They are kind of fun to squish! I didn’t go for the stick ons, I think having them sticking to my skin would be really uncomfortable. These are not bad, but they costs about $275 each. I guess I won’t be letting the cats near them, or me with their claws uncut.

June 20, 2003
Well, cancer is the condition that just keeps on giving. Being that my cancer was estrogen positive, it was the intent to keep me in menopause so that my ovaries don’t produce any more estrogen. Well, a few weeks ago I started to have bloody vaginal discharges. Not a good thing. The other possibility was endometrial cancer, a result of the tomoxafin I’m taking, very much not a good thing. So I went to see the GYN and he did an endometrial biopsy, a painful thing. I had to wait a week for the results, a scary thing. When he finally called, it seemed that there was not enough material taken to do a biopsy. Frustrating thing. So he wanted me to come in and have an ultra sound done within the week. Beginning to be a scary thing. Called to make an appointment and they couldn’t do it for 3 weeks, I was beginning to feel an angry thing. So this morning I called my doctor’s nurse and she got me in this morning, a rushed thing. The ultrasound showed a very thin lining, a good thing. So, I’m OK and that’s a happy thing.

LETTER TO MY BREASTS
(I can't believe I actually wrote this...)

April 2005

Dear Breasts,
I’ve been without you for over 2 years now. But I still miss you. You were soft and fun. Doug misses them also, but he doesn’t say so. I look kind of funny, especially since I’ve gained so much weight and I have a big belly. I don’t like wearing the fake ones. Besides being hot, I just feel that they are odd. They may be soft, but it’s like walking around with a pillow on my chest, which is really what I am doing. I like the comfort of wearing nothing but a tee shirt. I’m sorry you got cancer, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a mammogram earlier and find it small so maybe I could have saved you. And maybe I was rash in having *both* of you taken. I think it’s funny that ya’ll had a mammogram appointment without me!

I haven’t been doing my stretches and exercises so my shoulders are still stiff. I do worry about the cancer coming back, and kind of live like it will. I don’t expect to live to be very old like my grandmothers. But that’s OK.

I like that I have participated in research studies, might as well learn as much as they can to help future cancer patients. It’s not really a big deal. Plus, LB (Left Breast) can be immortal!

Love,
me

Dear Body,
I don’t think they kept me for research, I was thrown away. I miss everyone. I’m not sure I understand why you cut me off. Was I going to be sick also? I miss you. I hope you are well.
Love,
RB

Dear RB,
I’m sorry I cut you off also, but I was feeling very afraid and didn’t want to go though any of this ever again. I hope you can rejoin me in another life. You were a good breast and you feed my baby girl well.
Love,
me

Dear Body,
I’m sorry that I got cancer in me. I also screwed up with nursing the babies. Sorry. I do like being important and part of a study. I also liked that I could stay on you while we were going through chemo. I hope that you don’t get anymore cancer. I wasn’t so good for you anyway. I was too small when you wanted big, too big when you wanted small… But now I’m doing good things.
Love,
LB

Dear LB,
I’m not angry at you, it wasn’t your fault. I’m just sorry it happened. Yes, you are very important now. I hope that we can help lots of other people. Sometimes I still feel the both of you. I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror. I was just beginning to get used to cleavage and showing you off a little before the cancer. I liked the way you could turn Doug on. You added good proportion to my body. I feel kind of freakish now. I’m embarrassed to have anyone see me totally naked, more so than when I was whole.

Most of that time, when I was dealing with the cancer, is a blur to me. I didn’t even get a chance to enjoy it, or rather, the attention from it. I was trying to be so strong for everyone, including myself. It was a scary time. I didn’t like people telling me that everything was going to be alright, we didn’t know that. Of course, they turned out to be right, which is good, but, well, I don’t know.

Love,
Me