One Step Forward, Two Back

Okay, in all honesty I'm having a whiny weekend, one of those downer times that we all have occasionally.  Some would classify it as having the blues, or perhaps being a bit depressed.  For we women, or at least for me, it's the tear ducts easily spilling forth. 

I don't know exactly what started this crash off, other than a few days ago I noticed that the hair on my legs (yes, I've been rather lazy in shaving of late, got accustomed for many months of having no hair growth whatsoever, and now that it's winter and long pants' season, well...)

anyway, the hair growth stops where the top of my pull-up socks would start. 

Interesting, thought I.  This is the area of my lower legs/feet where I have the nerve damage.  Interesting that there is little, to no, hair growth there where before there was. 

This is visual confirmation of what is happening down below.  My feet look normal, but they are hurting 24/7.  I have to take medication (gabapentin) around the clock to control the pain, which for the most part during the day works.  I'm functional and no one looking at me would know of my problem.  However, at night the pain is more noticeable to me.  I have to take narcotic pain medication to sleep at night.  Friday night, after a long day, and being tired, I awoke in the middle of the night because of the burn.  Not an excruciating pain by any means, but enough discomfort to keep me awake for a couple hours.  I knew that what I had taken earlier had worn off, and I absolutely refuse to take anything other than a bit to allow me get to dreamland. 

I was in tears, not because of the discomfort, but because I am discouraged.  Why?  I have gone through the awfulness of chemo and now I have this residual chronic pain syndrome because of the chemo drugs.  Why was I one of the "lucky" ones to have nerve damage? 

I read on the internet that as much as 15-40% (depending on which site is referenced) of cancer patients experience some level of nerve damage.

That's actually a lot, in my book of thinking.

Why, does it not lift by now? 

Will it refuse to lift in the future?

Is this my future?  Chronic pain? 

I've been fighting the tears for a couple days.  My guys are oblivious of this latest struggle because I hide it, well Jared who is the most sensitive, picks up on it, but the others....

I feel like I should be back to normal, and I think that they expect me to be back to normal.  I'm not there.  I may never be there.  This cancer struggle keeps on...

I was at church today and one of the good sisters gave me a hug post sacrament meeting.  The two of us never did make it to SS.  We talked, cried, cried some more.  I think I needed her to myself today.  She understands, not that she has been through cancer (well, her sister has of recent), but she has chronic pain.  I'm grateful that she was there for me today. 

As I told my friend, I will pull myself up and climb out of my blueness abyss.

I need to count my blessings more, and they are many, truly. 

Much to Give Thanks

Wow, can't believe that it has been soooo long since my last post.

Thanksgiving isn't even a week past and I'm still thinking about my bounteous blessings.  I think it's sad that Thanksgiving is that holiday that gets squeezed between the fun Halloween and the hugeness of Christmas. 

This year there is a new term:  Gray Thursday where many stores are now opening at various times on Thanksgiving Day.  I say enough!!  However, until the people stay away the stores will be open.

Anyway, as I was lying in bed this morning upon awakening, I got to thinking about the scar on my chest, and I'm not talking about the long scar created to take away my diseased breast.  I'm actually talking about the other side of my chest wherein lies a port.  Until now I have looked at that scar, no more than 2 inches, perhaps a bit less, with hatch marks from the stitches, and have thought CANCER. 

Along this path I am walking, I have realized several things, one being that what matters perhaps most on this earthly existence is our relationship with others, how we treat those we love and strangers with whom we negotiate life's path. 

Now, when I feel my port or see the tubing that runs under my skin from it to my neck vein, I think I'M ALIVE and am reminded of thanks for life-sustaining treatment to keep me alive, thus affording me the opportunity to learn better personal skills, to be a little more patient, a bit quicker to assist someone else. 

I correlate this with the garment I wear that reminds me of my road back to our Heavenly Father.  Now I have a scar that I see daily that will have a positive effect, to remind me of my blessings and my need to improve. 

That being said, you would think me a saint.  However, I have to admit that while I was on the computer this afternoon trying to organize way too many pictures, a got a phone call, looked at the caller ID and decided that I would let it go to the answering machine--didn't want to be bothered with chatting.  No message was left, and now I'm feeling a bit guilty.  I should have picked up that phone.  Perhaps this person needed some help right then and I felt too busy.  Ugh.

Speaking of friends, I was delighted to meet with Robin Gourley, my old-time friend from waaay back.  I haven't seen her in a few years, not since she and I plus Joy spent a weekend at Zion's.  She was in Layton from her home in Nevada for Thanksgiving visiting her son.  We met at Kneaders at City Creek Saturday morning for breakfast, had a wonderful visit.  It was truly great to see her.  I wish her the best.  Life is not easy for this dear friend, and I wish that I could ease her struggles. 

I finished a Christmas stocking today for Victor.  It's a missionary stocking using part of a toddler Sunday white shirt, a child's clip-on tie and a piece of black fabric I had here.  I bought a small future missionary pin at Seagull and placed Victor's name on it.  I was quite pleased with the final product.  Hope he likes it as much as I.  People may think me quite crafty, but I got the idea from Pinterist. 

Tonight, well actually in a few minutes, we head over to RHS for Jared's induction into the Honor Society.  He works very hard at his academics and that hard work shows in his grades.  I'm very proud of that young man.

Tony works hard for DMC, a drilling company working at Kennecott Copper.  He isn't home yet.  His days are very long.

My Uncle Stan Defriez died a couple days ago.  He fell the day before Thanksgiving, hit his head and a hematoma formed, had it drained emergently, was responsive enough to visit with family, but then faltered.  He has been quite feeble for a while, so perhaps this is a blessing.  I am picking up my Aunt Val tomorrow and driving her to Heber for the viewing and funeral.  My parents will not be traveling up from Arizona.  He was my mother's stepbrother. 

Compiling A Checklist

I like lists.  I like to check off items on my lists.  Here's my cancer check list to date:

Surgery, radical mastectomy with axillary lymph node dissection:  Check.  Long time done.

Chemo, six rounds of Taxotere and carboplatin (BAD drugs, I cannot begin to express my dislike):  Check.  Can't believe that it has been nine weeks.  Wow.  When I was in the midst of chemo, the days were very s-l-o-w.

Radiation:  Check.  Done last week.  End result?  Piece of cake.  I've been through chemo and nothing can touch that.  My skin is red, like a sunburn.  I return to see my radiation oncologist in a couple weeks to check the status of the skin, but again a piece of cake.  Glad not to have to drive over to IMC every day for my 25 sessions.

Echo:  Check.  Third one finished last Thursday.  Ejection fraction is fine.  Only one more to go in a few months.

Herceptin, another antineoplastic agent:  Can check of #9 as of last Friday.  Truly past the half-way point, as I only have eight more to go. 

anastrozole:  Check, started last week and am tolerating okay.  That's good news considering I will be taking it for the next five years!! Generic for Arimidex, an antineoplastic agent, basically shutting down my body from making its own estrogen and progesterone.  I feel like I'm going to shrivel up and become an old woman. 

Hair:  Check...growing back.  I estimate 3/16 of an inch.  It's salt and pepper.  Can't believe how dark it looks, well where it's not white--dang.  The down side?  I actually need to shave my legs, except that the hairs are so fine that I'm ignoring them for the timebeing. 

Eyebrows:  Check, retained by my estimation over 50%, but I had sufficient to start with so thinning brows were never a concern. 

Eyelashes:  Check...lost all my lower lashes, except for one on each side at the very outside corner...whatever.  Retained the majority of my upper lashes, but lost the inside lashes and there are a few missing here and there.  I was grateful for this tender mercy of having something to attach some mascara to and feel a little feminine. 

Nails:  Check...they're UGLY, but a minor detail in this cancer fight. 

Neuropathy, chemotherapy induced:  Check.  I have it officially as of the last cycle of the bad drugs.  This is an awful present to be handed, as two PAs tell me that I may have to learn to live with it indefinitely.  That phrase makes me want to cry.  However, my oncologist is a bit more optimistic, believes that it will lift, but will take "months, if not a year or more" in his words, for the damaged nerves to regenerate.  I am taking vitamin B complex and vitamin D to help, and it was suggested last Friday that I try lipoic acid, which I have yet to do.  Because of the burning pain in the feet/ankles with tingling in the lower legs, tingling and numbness in the fingers (but no burning in the fingers), I was prescribed gabapentin, actually an antiseizure medication.  My oncologist told me that it would take time for my body to adjust to this med, like possibly a month, to control the burning pain.  I was taking one at night plus my pain pill.  My radiation oncologist told me almost two weeks ago to take it three times a day, and my PA last Friday told me to take as much as two 300-mg tablets three times a day.  Wow, considering it has side effects, like fatigue, but I seem to tolerating it okay...as soon as I take my nap :)  Anyway, I only take the 600-mg dosage at bedtime and last night I did not need the pain pill.  Progress is being made!!  Now, please regenerate nerves, please, I beg of you. 

Bloodwork:  Check.  Seems like I'm always giving a sample, but not so much now that I'm finished w/chemo.  The BAD drugs really slammed me and I was always tired, if not sick...so now that I'm nine weeks out from chemo I feel like a new person.  However, I figured I would be in the normal range by now.  My RBCs are still low 3.69 (normal 4.04-5.48).  I did rise from 3.61 three weeks previous, though.  At this creeping rate, it's going to take a while to hit low-normal, which probably explains my tired state, at least that's my excuse (and my deconditioned state, too).  My hematocrit was 33.3, actually dropping a full point from three weeks previous (normal being 38-48).  I feel fortunate that my lowest point was 28.  The transfusion point is 25, and I've met some patients who have needed a transfusion.  I guess I'd better go eat some protein and work on getting my cells back to a normal figure.

Support:  Check.  I have great support, love my supporters.

Dang Feet...If I Didn't Need Them I'd Cut Them Off

At the beginning of chemo I had some pretty intense bone pain (the chemo drugs) and so I was given a narcotic to ease the pain.  I have continued for the majority of the nights needing that lovely pill to be able to sleep, to comfort the legs.  After the last round almost six weeks ago, I figured that this pain would go away as the chemo drugs become diminished in my system.  A couple weeks ago the discomfort in my lower legs, particularly the burning in the bottom of the feet (paresthesias) elevated and I truly had trouble sleeping.  Dang, dang.  I was down to just a small amount of pills.  When I went in for my last Herceptin infusion (almost three weeks), this was the first time that I did not see a medical provider, so didn't have a chance to chat, but then figured that the paresthesias would be lifting really soon, as they had always lifted within a couple weeks, three at the most, post chemo drugs.  The paresthesias in my hands (mild numbness, not painful) are still with me today and the burning in my feet never goes away, seems to escalate during the day as I'm active, so by night again it's hard to sleep.  Finally, last week I had run out of pills and out of patience (called being sleep deprived) and called the Cancer Center, had a chat with one of the PAs, and it appears that I may have chemotherapy-induced neuropathy in my feet/lower legs.  This is not good, as it may never go away.  I was given some more pain medication and a new drug called gabapentin to get me through until I can see my oncologist this Friday.

I looked up gabapentin, and it is given to people who have seizures, to people who have pain caused by shingles, and to people who have neuropathy (like diabetic neuropathy, or in my case, chemotherapy-induced neuropathy).  It's suppsoed to block those nerve endings from communicating with the brain?  or something like that.  As long as I have my gabapentin at night and a pain pill, well I sleep wonderfully, but that has me worried.  Could I just not have the neuropathy and do away with the medication?  That would be my wish.

I'm totally deconditioned--called months of not doing anything...well if healing and dealing with chemo count as "not anything," and so yesterday decided that it's time to start walking, so I put on my socks and laced up loosely my walking shoes.  Didn't get very far, but it's a start.  The whole time walking my feet hurt (the torture of being inside shoes), the pins and needles of paresthesias/neuropathy.  The walk was doable, but not comfortable.  Went again this morning, traveled a bit farther, but again not comfortable. 

I HATE CANCER!!!

Being Honest

 Here are some pictures taken three weeks ago.  Here is what is known as "steroid facies" meaning a round, puffy face because I was on steroids, oral, for several days each round, plus had a steroid drip at chemo.  This picture was taken the Sunday morning (two days post) after my last chemo session.  I look like my dad (which unfortunately isn't very complimentary...sorry dad, but he doesn't read by my blog, thank goodness).  I have a few hairs on top that never did fall.  No wonder when the Priests came over a couple weeks ago because I didn't feel well enough to go to church and I didn't have on any make-up or wig.  They were very kind and didn't say anything, but boy did their eyes get big when they saw me.  I kind of gasp, too, when I see myself in the mirror.  I have such a long list of makeovers when I get to Heaven that I will need to wear a name tag, as no one will recognize me.

 Here I am with my wig on ready to go to church. 

 Oh, and here are my nails that look like they've been smashed in the door, and that was three weeks ago.  I should take a picture of them now.  They're much worse.  In the interim, I got an infection and have since been on an antibiotic and Bacitracin soak because of the nails.  Now my toenails are affected.  I have been warned that I may lose my anils.  Oh well, seeing as I've lost a breast and my hair, what are a few more body parts?...except that they're really quite tender. 

And here I am at the infusion center getting my port accessed for treatment.  I have a plastic appartus that has been sutured just under my skin with some tubing that runs to my jugular vein.  This port eliminates the need to have an IV placed in my arm, and quite honestly I like the port.  It's so much better than having to fish around for a vein, and I've been told that the Taxol (one of those "BAD" drugs) has pretty much destroyed my arm veins, so thank goodness for the port. 

Okay, these were some honest pictures of me.  Ugh.  I hate the Nelson baggy eyes, which have been extra baggy of late because of the fact that it's so hard to stay hydrated when I don't feel like drinking water.  I need plastic surgery!!!!!

Shhhh...Don't Tell the Bishop

but as of a week ago I now sport six new permanent tattoos.  Okay, they're tiny, like a small freckle, but I've been "mapped" in prep for radiation.  I went through a CT scanner using some stickers placed by my radiation oncologist, Dr. Avizonis, and then the stickers were removed and replaced by ink that was set via needles...still hate needles.  I think I'm up to 45 pokes now. 

I should have been celebrating that I was finished with the bad chemo drugs, but I was rather emotional during the mapping session...couldnot  keep the tears at bay.  I was embarrassed actually that I wasn't better composed.  I suppose it was partially because I knew that I was getting tattoos and I didn't know how it was going to happen.  I pictured these big needle guns like I see on TV.  Anyway, it wasn't so bad.

My body is trying to recover from the last chemo session of two weeks ago.  It's going to take a few weeks, I think, before I really start to feel that the drugs are leaving my system.  My eyes are constantly watering and I struggle to read regular text.  Even the computer screen is a challenge.  Hope that changes soon.

My nails are a mess, make that a Mess with a capital M.  They are lifting despite my trying to be very careful.  I have one nail with a definite infection that I tried to rid myself via soaking in hydrogen peroxide and dowsing with soap and standing under the shower letting the water run under the nails, but finally had to call it in...got a prescription for an antibiotic and also some Betadine, which is a liquid antiseptic that I use as a soak mixed with equal parts water. 

Otherwise, things are going very well with my family.  Jared is getting ready to go to high country cross-country camp even as I type this.  He enjoyed last year's camp up by Brighton.  I drove up a carload last year, but definitely am out of commission this year.

Tony is golfing at Bonneville with Bro. Maere today, waiting for a call for an interview as an orderly at TOSH.  He needs a job.

Victor has been transferred back to Illinois, Peoria to be exact, as a ZL.  He and his comp went to Nauvoo last week on Pionner Day as guests of a member family.  He had a great day in Nauvoo, really loves that place. 

Well, that's all I have to say for today.  Again, can hardly read the text on the computer screen with my chemo eyes.    Bye.

Still Have Eyelashes (Ain't Life Grand)

Yup, round 6 is officially completed, as of two days ago!!  Hooray.  I think this might be the kindest round to me yet.  I'm eating okay and getting fluids down.  My nails are ugly, and lifting, and I may lose them, but I STILL HAVE EYELASHES, and that helps me to feel a bit more feminine. 

I go in this Friday to get "mapped" in prep for radiation.  I probably won't start radiation for a few more weeks, to give my body time to recover from the mean chemo drugs, but the mapping will be a CT scan that will give my breast area a 3D image.  The maps are actually small tattoos (shhh, don't tell the Bishop).  The radiation will last for five weeks where I go in every day (M-F).  The radiation should feel like a breeze compared to chemo, at least that's the plan.  I have been told that the entire breast will be radiated each time (I formerly thought that it would be a section at a time).  I've also been told that I will feel like I have a sunburn that will increase in intensity over time, that loose clothing and aloe vera gel will be my best friends.  My shoulder will be protected (not radiated) because per the radiation oncologist that would definitely give my arthritis, plus my lungs need to be visualized so that they are protected.  I say let's go get this done.  My greatest fear is recurrence, and I do not want to go through this again.  It makes me want to cry just thinking about it.

I have taken pictures and hopefully will get them on the blog site soon. 

Thanks to all for your prayers and uplifting thoughts.  I have felt nothing but positivity, and I cannot thank enough my supporting crew.  You are my best medicine.

Still Have Eyelashes

Hi All--

It's Tuesday, June 19, 2012.  The good news is that I haven't lost my eyelashes, well a few 'cause they're rather brittle and one has to be very careful, and they haven't grown since I started treatment, so looking a bit lacklaster, but I still have eyelashes!!  The bad news is that eyelashes, if they fall, usually fall at the 5th/6th treatment, and I'm going in for round #5 this Friday.

Round 3 has been the worst so far, meaning that round 4 didn't grab me so hard.  Yeah.  However, round 4 did affect my nails, especially my fingers.  Every finger, yup all 10, look like they've been caught in a door with reddish marks underneath the nail, plus the nails are very dry.  When I met with the PA last Friday during the Nadir blood draw (and I give an accounting of how the last couple weeks have been), when I mentioned that my nails got nabbed (because I've been asked previously how my nails are faring), the response was, "you might lose your nails."  Ee-gads!!  No, I already knew this, had been warned.  Hopefully not, though.  The nails are not painful, just sore.  I read a blog of a lady whose nails went black on the first time out of the chutes.  Poor lady. 

The cumulative effects have been in full force these past several weeks meaning that I have that awful metallic/off taste with food that doesn't relent, well it did the day of round #4.  I can eat, which is always a good thing, but food, especially sweets, taste yuck.  We made raspberry ice cream, yes made, as in homemade, last night (round two of Father's Day, since poor R didn't get any dessert on Sunday) and I had a bowl, but can't say that I enjoyed it, as there is a bitter taste.  I've been drinking lots of OJ lately with lots of crushed ice, and that too tastes bitter, more like grapefruit that has had its rind ground up with the juice. 

since I've last posted, Tony has come home, which was wonderful.  I made it through that weekend, exhausting, but wonderful, too, and then the following Monday took two (2) three-hour naps.  In fact, I've been napping every day.  Seems like eternal tiredness is my constant companion. 

I hit an emotional brick wall recently, cried all weekend long, and was too down to even go to church ('cause I was a crying machine).  R and T gave me a blessing, which truly helped to calm my troubled heart.  As R says, I'm simply having a hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  People all around me keep trying to buoy me up with the "you're almost done," but then I think, ya trade places with me and see if you see that light.  Pessimistic, I know.  People have been very good to me and I need to remind myself of that simple fact.

In fact, this post just was interrupted by a friend who works at a dental office who brought some more baby soft brushes and fluoride-strength paste, as I need to change brushes with each round and the chemo drugs are really hard on the mouth/teeth.

Well, I'll take my tired body to go recline on the couch and watch some tv, which is about all I do any more in the evening, not terribly motivated to do much more.

The Night Owl

It's early Tuesday morning, May 22, 2012, and I've been awake since 3 a.m.  Sleeping, I think, is a constant nag for middle-aged women such as I, but even harder now for me. 

The good news?  I am a stay-at-home mother, work-at-home mother which means I can sneak in a nap today, which I will definitely do, probably after I get Jared off to school.  I plan to drive him (haven't done that for a couple weeks), 'cause I want use of the van today to run an errand. 

I'm starting to come out of my "chemo fog" from the last round a week and a half ago.  Ugh.  I hate chemo.  I think the cumulative effects are really kicking me. 

Hey, I got my first round of housecleaning yesterday.  The "professionals" came...a short Hispanic lady, her daughter and daughter's friend (both looked like they needed to be in school themselves).  I was told to let my crew know what I wanted them to do.  Per the Cancer Society lady, "they'll do whatever you ask.  I had one lady ecstatic that her oven is now sparkling clean because that's what she needed done."  I, on the other hand, discovered a MAJOR language barrier.  Basically, they had a plan in the time allotted, and I found myself in the garage planting some pots while trying to stay out of the way.  Anyway, I have these "free" hours and have decided to definitely take advantage of them.  I did have to laugh, though, when I was at my computer paying bills and heard the lid on the cookie jar get lifted. 

We're all excited to have Tony come home, and he's just excited to come home, per his email yesterday.  That is the highlight of this week/month, perhaps the entire year!!  I'm really excited and will probably resort to one of those pills that will help me to "shut down" that I have stored away in the cupboard.  I try not to abuse them and only occasionally use one, so I think Wednesday night sleep will be important and I will need one. 

Why Does It Take a Round of Chemo to Get Me Back on this Blog?

Well, it's almost 2 a.m. the day after Mother's Day, which by the way was a lovely day.  Truly.  I felt well enough to go to Sacrament Meeting and then to have wonderful phone visits with Tony and Victor (both doing very well, although T is major trunky.  I know that he's under the two-week mark, but he reminded me that it's "11" days). 

Bone pain started kicking in evening and I got behind on my meds, thinking that my narcotic was every six hours (which is actually the antinausea med), but I can take my narcotic every four hours.  I started out with one pill, but am now needing two.  I'm aching, but not in extreme pain.  Well, with the steroid that has the #1 side effect of insomnia and jitteriness, I'm not sleeping, but am resting at least.  In 15 minutes, I can take a dose of narcotic and hopefully finally drift off to some much-needed sleep.

Last round, in case I haven't recorded, was much better for pain control and even the dreaded diarrhea.  However, I suffered much more from nausea and even had some vomiting, which comes on very suddenly.  I find myself sitting very quickly on the floor so that I don't pass out and fortunately every time either Jared or Rafael has been in the area to hand me a bowl.

This last drip session (last Friday) I had added an add'l antinausea drip (so two now), and am taking my oral meds faithfully at home...thus far working very well. 

I do feel very blessed.  I am learning the lesson of relationships and how important they are to me.  My family is my greatest blessing, and I am trying to take a bit more care in how I treat those I love.  I feel embarrassed when I look back and haven't taken care as I could.

I look forward to having Tony come home soon.  I know that I need to take care of myself, so am recruiting Jared to help make a poster or two...we need to have him truly feel welcomed.  We plan to pick him up at 8 a.m. at the airport and take him to the Pantry (Lion House) for breakfast.  We were thinking about going to City Center (now that it's completed and we haven't seen it yet).  I asked Tony what his preference is, and he has only request...to attend the temple, any temple, before being released.  J wants to get back to school in the afternoon, as he doesn't want a full-day absence (good student, that kid).  Perhaps we'll do breakfast and City Center, then bring Jared back to school and then go the temple in the afternoon w/Tony.  I know--we are very fortunately to be able to choose a temple and have it fit into our schedule.

I'm doing well, truly.  I've met some people during my infusion sessions and I count myself blessed to fight the battle I have versus the battles being fought around me. 

I know that my Heavenly Father is aware of me.  I feel very blessed.

Day after Round Two

Still having problems sleeping.  Ironically, sleep would be the best thing for a body that's healing, but just isn't going to happen.  The lady in the chair next to me, also on round 2 (I met her a couple weeks ago in class, nice lady), said that she made it until 3:30 a.m. and then couldn't stay in bed any longer.  She had severe nausea for two weeks with dry heaves and dehydration last time--had to have oral nausea med changed to something stronger and took it around the clock.  She normally walks her dogs for several miles every day and even runs half marathons w/friends, but during chemo treatment can barely walk two blocks.  It really kicked her butt, so I'm grateful that an occasional pill for me does the trick. 

My white cell count yesterday was 20,000 (normaly being 8-10,000) which per the oncologist explains why my bones got hit so bad, and unfortunately per the onco said to expect the same, although this time we have a better plan.  I was already feeling some tinging in the legs during the night, but some OTC Tylenol has done the trick and I haven't needed to redose yet.  I do feel like the symptoms, heartburn, GI tract is kicking in a bit quicker this time.  I'm still fairly productive though, this Saturday morning.  Good news. 

The good news is that w/a high white count I'm not quite so worried about catching an infection.  Bring on that open house for Tony, but still I'm having a bottle of hand sanitizer for the guests.  I CANNOT get sick--too many complications with possibly a hospital stay. 

It's really a beautiful spring day outside.  R is out working the sprinkling system in the flower bed.  Jared is getting ready to mow the lawn.  I miss not having the energy to do any work outside.  The Beehive advisor asked if the girls could come work in the yard in a couple weeks, and I gladly accepted.  Bless this good ward. 

Well, I need to get back to work, my paid work that is.  While I have the energy, I'm trying to keep up my line count.

Oh, in case I haven't mentioned it.  I REALLY like my port...so much better than fishing around the arm for a vein.  I put some Emla cream, a prescription lidocaine cream, on the port site an hour before stick, as the special needle has a cap and needs to sit firmly on three protruding round plastic bumps from under my skin that allows the needle to fit securely in the middle of the site.  A deep breath in and the needle is secured...no problem at all.  Yes!!

Round 2 Today

I know that I've been ignoring this site...laziness and life in general, but really, one month!!!!

So a quick catchup. 

Three weeks ago today I had a long day at the hospital, had a 6:30 a.m. (yup, early appt.) at the Heart and Lung Building for a port placement.  It's a plastic device about a quarter size in diameter and a half inch deep that is inserted under my skin in my upper chest under my clavicle.  There is plastuc tubing that snakes its way about four inches upward (I can feel it under the skin) that is sutured to a large vein.  This device makes is possible for me to forego IV access in my smaller veins in my arm.  In fact, I had my last IV placed in my hand for this procedure (per the nurse, I'm a hard stick for a vein in the forearm).  This was an all-morning stay, even though I felt well after the procedure, but had to sit and wait for the conscious sedation to wear off.  I was totally awake for the entire procedure, chatting w/medical staff.  I had slept so poorly that I begged them to make me extremely comfortable so that I could get a nap post procedure, but it just didn't happen. 

Speaking of which, I had another lousy night last night, just awful.  I think it might be the steroids that I start taking the day before chemo.  I was just reading on a forum that other TCH regimen ladies have the same problem.  The steroid combined with plenty of hot flashes during the night...I'm beat!!!  I gave up at 4 a.m. and have been up since.  At least I was up to fix Jared a lunch, have prayer w/him and give him a hug before he left for school.  I'm so jealous of Rafael.  That man can sleep!!!  Goes to bed at 10 p.m. sharp and is just now resurrecting, 10 hours later.  Ah, the life of a man.  Fortunately, he will be wide awake to be my chauffeur while I close my eyes and rest.

Last infusion was all afternoon, leaving the center at 6:15 p.m.  We were tired and so grateful to Bro. Mower for bringing in tons of food.  I had to send R out for a new refrigerator.  JK.  The food was great. 

I felt well over the weekend, watched conference and worked in between sessions.  One blessing about this chemo is that I didn't multitask as I usually do on Saturday.  This time I just sat and listened w/full focus during conference.  Generally, I'm working in the kitchen or doing some hand project. 

I got a long nap post Sunday's afternoon session, which turned out to be a god send, as 10 p.m. that night what is called the "long bone pain" kicked in.  Ouch!!!!  While the guys slept, I stared at the ceiling and willed some relief.  The OTC Tylenol didn't work.  Four hours later when I felt that I could take something more, I tried ibuprofen (chemo class recommended not taking ibuprofen, but heck....), and it didn't touch the pain.  Four hours later I took one of my leftover surgical Norco (my interpretation of the paperwork as I read it during the night was not to take analgesic post treatment w/o medical approval, but again what the heck).  The Norco hardly touched the pain.  It was in my thigh, mostly right leg, and my knees...could hardly stand, occasionally down into my ankles.  I've had leg aches, but boy this was a whole new classification I've not experienced. 

R offered to stay home and drive me for my neulasta shot (to jump start the bone marrow to produce the good cells that were killed off by the chemo).  We had originally planned that I would drive, but I was exhausted and too much in pain.  I told him that I would call and get a ride, and sure enough the first person I called was available.  I have such a wonderful ward family. 

Generally, the neulasta causes the long bone pain, but in some patients, per the nurse that morning, the taxotere also does the trick.  Lucky me.  She told me to go home and take two Norco and stay on it every four hours.  I had 11 left from my surgery and went through those, counting the minutes until I could take a dose.  They helped, but did not take away the pain...probably because the med was having such a hard time catching up.  Finally, about midnight, the long bone pain eased (and I was out of Norco) and for the next days I figured that I just had leg aches (knees especially) which I managed with OTC NSAIDs.  I took lots of baths to ease the pain.  Standing in the shower was hard with the knee pain.  I kept a hot pad on the knees as I could. 

We went in last Friday for a blood draw (counts look good) and the PA said that what I had was long bone pain for many days, just to a lesser degree than the initial onset, so she prescribed 10-mg Norco (as compared to my 5-mg Norco from my surgery), so that should do the trick this time, plus maybe it won't be as bad anyway....fingers crosssed. 

Mary Nickels, a local newscaster, who is also going through chemo with the same surgeon as me and at the same oncology center, said in her blog that the first time she got the neulasta shot she also got long bone pain and could not sleep for 5 minutes, so had to call in sick.  She said it was worse than when she broke a leg, blew out a knee and had a C-section.  However, the first time was the worst for her.  Otherwise, she has done really well, until I read her blog this last week.  She just had her 5th or 6th chemo, so is about done, but said that the cumulative fatigue has caught up to her and she's struggling with other chemo effects that previously didn't bug her, but she is now finished!!

Anyway, the bone pain combined w/eating problems (loss of appetite, food tastes awful, fatigue, delicate GI tract--turns out that the cells of the GI tract are fast-growing cells and are highly affected by the chemo.  Anyway, the first week post chemo was not fun, but I resurrected Saturday, which gave a whole new meaning to me the next day on Easter morning. 

Each day I felt better, and the last week has been great, other than some fatigue, but a nap here and there has been very helpful.

Incidentally, sleeping that first week was hard, too.  I would get leg spasms (like restless legs), again probably from the bone pain, marrow jumping into high gear, and anxiousness, and hot sweats, but after the first week, everything seemed to calm down and return to normal. 

MY HAIR--is gone.  Well, I have some stubble left, lots of the stubble has washed off in the shower.  Last Saturday, with very little fanfare, I simply announced that "it's time."  Jared cut my hair and then R gave me a clipper job.  I officially sport a #1.  My two missionaries are a #2.  Tony thinks it's hilarious that his hair is longer than his mom's.  I think it's hilarious too, in a freaked-out way.  Pictures???  Eventually, I just haven't taken them off the camera yet. 

Well, that's all for now.  In a few more hours I'll be sitting in a chair getting my port access (via needle--I hate needles!!) for another go....

We Have a Plan...and I AM Getting on With My Life

Three weeks ago I had surgery.  Each day is better.  I have my down days, but it has been almost a week since I was feeling not well physically and that translates to emotionally.  I had to take a half of one of my "happy" pills, as R calls them so that I could get the sleep I need.

Since I last posted, I have had a followup w/Dr. Rasmussen, my surgeon, and got the thumbs up.  Don't need to see him again until after chemo.

I also had a followup with Dr. Ferguson, the plastic surgeon, well actually his PA Travis, who removed the last drain Friday.  Yeah.  Feels so much better...MAJOR BETTER, but Travis only removed it if I stayed absolutely still for a few days.  Um, I only work at a computer, so it's not like I'm outside chopping wood.  Shaking his head, no working, so had to beg off and truly have tried to be still UNTIL NOW, Monday night.  I was borderline on fluid output to get it pulled and being active increases fluid, so with the drain removed there is the chance of seroma development, hence the "chill out" order. 

I also got another fill job.

Oh, and we spent three hours at the oncologist's office...check in and wait, see patient advocate and wait, see nurse and wait, see PA and get a physical and go over the packet that I filled out and brought with me and wait, see doctor and get scheduled.  Done...three hours. 

So, I start my chemo on Friday, March 30, six sessions three weeks separated, plus I get a chemo drug called Herceptin which needs 11 sessions beyond the initial six, so I will have an infusion every three weeks for a year.  That's 17 IV placements and since my right arm cannot be used from here on out for needles, then doc wants a port-a-cath placed, which is venous access in my upper chest just under the clavicle.  Sounds yucky to me, but will ease the burden on the small veins in my arm.  I arrive 6:30 a.m., yup gotta get up early, at the hospital and am scheduled for four hours to get this procedure done under conscious sedation by radiology, then go over for my first chemo infusion which I have been told being first will take a little longer, 3-1/2 hours, so I'll be at the hospital all day. 

tomorrow night I have a chemo class, required by doctor, where I will get all my questions answered, taught by the oncology staff.

Doc also requires that I get a baseline echo prior to first chemo, which I will have done this Friday. 

Lots of appointments.

I'm doing well, went to all three hours of church Sunday and did very well, didn't cry.  It was a lift for me, lots of encouragement.  I needed that church boost yesterday and am looking forward to all three hours of church this Sunday. 

My RS president just sent me an email (her sister-in-law just had her 2nd chemo session) and mentioned to me that her sister-in-law went to see her grandbaby get blessed and then ended up catching someone's bug and had a 10-day hospital stay, so when she wants to go to her church there is a buffer zone discreetly placed in front and behind her bench, meaning couples who are well with no children.  She's so sweet and has offered to arrange that for me.  Something to think about, but shouldn't be a problem, seeing as we sit 2nd bench (isn't it funny how we all have "our" bench) left front, and usually the bench in front is empty and frequently the bench behind is a family w/o little children, but definitely something to think about, as I do want to go to sacrament meeting as able. 

I know that I will be receiving a Neulasta shot after each chemo session which helps to build up the white cells that are destroyed.  The shot itself costs $6000, but oncology office is preapproved to administer because insurance has found that it's better to pay $6000 rather than allow claimant to get sick due to crashed immune system and end up in hospital. 

Got a call from a family member today, actually call not really for me, but I was the one who was home and answered phone.  I was chipper and positive, but kind of bothered when I heard "well, I hope that this doesn't take you and that you can get on with your life."  I thanked caller, but was thinking "I am getting on w/my life.  This is my life.  I am still here and trying to have normality as possible.  My life continues and has not stopped." 

Actually, I shouldn't sound annoyed because I am truly blessed.  So many good people checking up on me, buoying me up.  My life is good, just a few bumps in the road right now, but overall good.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Sundays used to be busy, but not any more.  I think I would rather have the busy-ness.

Just woke up from a nap and I'm so tired that I think I could go back to sleep sitting here at the computer. 

Friday I got my second fill job (where the tissue expander under my flaps gets an infusion of saline).  My first was during surgery.  I didn't know that I was going to have that done, so that was kind of freaky.  Sure am glad that R was there to hold my hand.  Remember...I'm not a fan of needles.  Once the port of the tissue expander was detected, which is done via a magnet, then the saline was injected.  I don't know how many fill jobs it's going to take for me to have symmetry with my good side, but I'll just have to buck up.  I think that I'm scheduled for another fill job this Friday??  I do have an appointment this Friday for removal of the other drain, but then the PA said that we might be returning Wednesday for removal depending on the fluid drainage, so not totally clear?

I did get one of my drains removed ("deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out"--and the drain was removed, got a new dressing which kept me out of the shower for a couple days, so I have to say my highlight this weekend was this morning when I was able to get in the shower...ahhhhhhh, heaven.  I only sport one tube and one drain, but still had to be selective in my choice of Sunday clothing so that I could adequately cover my medical tubing and drain so as to be able to go to church...went to a farewell at another ward, one of V's best friends w/whom he had a big role in getting this guy ready and out into the field. 

What is bugging me is that I'm having an area of underarm pain.  It has always been there, but is more noticeable (CONSTANT) now that I don't take any pain meds or even NSAIDs.  It's what I believe is medically called hyperesthesia, or a hypersensitivity as one of the PAs said Friday.  I just got out my 3-inch patient education manual and read about symptoms that may occur, and for me the symptom of change of sensation has occurred due to having my lymph glands removed.  "This happens because the nerves running through the armpit often have to be disturbed to reach the lymph nodes that lie behind them.  This causes trauma to the nerve, which can lead to a variety of symptoms such as...." and my symptom is sensitivity to touch or pressure with burning sensations.  It feels kind of like a bad sunburn, although the skin looks just fine.  The manual says that the symptoms are "usually temporary and improve about three months after surgery."  Ee-gads, three months of this!!  Okay, I'm having a bit of a pity party, I know. 

Overall, I'm making progress.

I was told Friday that I'm not babying my arm sufficiently.  What?  R and I both remember being told not to lift above the shoulder level and not to carry anything heavier than a newborn (not that I've been carrying any newborns for any time lately).  However, as my surgical site has healed I've had plenty of lateral movement and so cleaned off the counters, tables, drawers, even had J set up the ironing board and get out the basket for me, as ironing shirts didn't seem out of the equation (did the ironing in spurts throughout the day), but evidently that's all a no-no, so I've totally given in to being waited on, which has its ups and downs.  Again, my guys have been really good to me. 

Okay, funny part here...R has twice had to place some hot rollers in my hair in the last couple days so that I am presentable to leave my house.  Can you just picture me sitting on a chair in the bathroom and him placing rollers?  I went the hot roller route as that is much easier than trying to teach him how to use the curling iron.  He's a good sport, and I just have to be patient and grateful for the end result...but wish I could do it myself.  By the time I get the go-ahead to raise my arm, I'll probably be bald.

Buttoned, Baggy Shirts

For the past week I've been mostly in my PJs (like I'm going anywhere, right?), but occasionally I've been getting dressed which means a buttoned shirt, as I can't lift my arm above the level of my shoulder (to protect the healing process), and loose shirt, to cover my two hand grenade-sized plastic drains that attach to plastic tubing that exit from the underarm, slightly toward my back area.  Once the fluid reaches minimal output in a 24-hour period (can't remember if it's 1 cc or 10 cc), then the drain can be removed, which neither one has reached yet.  Maybe one will be ready for removal at this Friday's followup?

Each day I get stronger.  I have complete lateral movement of my arm, hence no problem sitting at the computer to type. 

I've been stir crazy, so it has been nice to have some visits.  Debbie L. and Kathleen L. have been by to bring me lunch, plus RS dropped by dinner tonight (it's the monthly RS meeting and there was dinner, so they brought over dinner, so nice).  The notes that arrive in the mail have been big lifts. 

I was told that I would want to cocoon and isolate during this healing period, physical and emotional, but I'm finding that I'm actually doing quite well with the sociality of visits.

I've been learning to rest, a hard lesson learned.  Last Friday I didn't take a nap, was up all day, cleaned out the sock drawer, R took me for a drive, which was good, but I had a back ache the whole time, even whole body achy that night, so I must have overdone.  Saturday I didn't feel so well, took two long naps, was emotional and blue, but by Sunday I was on the upswing again. 

Okay, this journey has been more emotional than I had anticipated.  The first time I got to take a shower (three days post surgery), I could not look at the works of medical hands--was glad to have my glasses off.  I cried, but R buoyed me up.  He had to climb in the shower to help.  I have to pin the drains to a lanyard around my neck, but we have the process down.  The second time I took a shower, I took a good look at the incision sites.  Just envision a deflated balloon with a suture line across the middle...that would be my breast, but at the same time am grateful that it is clean, no infection, and it's my road back to health.  I even could look at the tubes that exit my body...okay looked, but still had a little crying jag. 

Yesterday night I progressed to the point where I could take the shower by myself. 

Dr. Rasmussen has called since my previous post to say that the pathology was back and my case was presented at last week's tumor board.  Dr. R. told me that six tumors were removed from the breast (so again reassured me that there was no other alternative but a complete mastectomy), the largest 5 cm and the rest between 0.5 cm and 1.6 cm.  However, the good news is that only the sentinel node tested postive for cancer, so that's actually good news.  Dr. R. gave me the names of the oncologist that his office refers to, and I made my appointment, a week from this Friday.  Dr. R. also told me that the recommendation of the tumor board is full treatment, meaning chemo, radiation and hormonal. 

I'm yawning, so perhaps it's time for me to get ready for bed.  Last night was the first time that I didn't have a pain pill on board for the night (though weaned myself off pain pills during the day many days ago) or even the Xanax prescribed pre surgery, and so did not sleep as well.  I woke up with hot flashes several times, one so severe that I had to sit in front of the fan for a while, even walked into the kitchen and open the freezer door, plus I have a little insomnia going on, so I read until exhaustion takes me back to sleep, but now I've finished that book. 

Me and My Heart Pillow

Ah, so glad to say that it's good to be home.  Got home yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon and went straight to bed and SLEPT for four hours straight.  Funny how it takes getting out of the hospital to get sleep. 

Monday was a long day, arrived 9:30 a.m., was taken via the underground passages to the Breast Care Center at 11 where I was injected with my isotope dye, first lidocaine into the breast, then one shot and then number two shot, and can I say for the record that #2, which was supposed to be painless, was very painful.  Per radiologist, "So sorry, you were not supposed to feel that." 

In my wheelchair side by side with another lady back to the surgical tower, she losing her left breast and me my right.  Together we make a full-breasted woman.  Gotta find some humor, right?

Lots of time waiting in our room for the green light, Rafael reading, me writing, and finally just watching stupid TV, plenty of medical personnel stopping in to do their thing.  I told the nurse that she had one shot to get the IV in, so she called in the expert who did get the IV in my hand, and the position of the metal, nonflexible catheter was challenging.  Any movement of the hand, particularly flexing of fingers, was not comfortable.  R told me that he would have his friend anesthesiologist change the IV once I was in surgery. 

Dr. Ferguson came in and marked out the pertinent lines on my breasts, the good for reference and the bad for...

Which just reminded me, he was going to take off my mole, which is located exactly between breast #1 and breast #2 if there was enough give of the tissues.  I just felt down my "surgical bra," and it appears that the mole is gone.  It was really not a big deal to me, since it isn't concerning and always covered, but since a man trained in the use of scalpel just happened to be working in that area, might as well cut it off.  R has jokingly referred to it as my third nipple all these years. 

At 3 I got the go-ahead and up we went to the floor above, placed in a "pod" so we could have a final meeting with Dr. Rasmusen and the anesthesiologist. 

With a final kiss and a tear in our eyes, off I go, to wake up in postop.  The glass fairy had magically placed my glasses on my face, and I remember looking at the clock across the room and it was already past 7:30.  Wow, a four-hour surgery. 

Waking up was good.  The anesthesiologist told me that it would be better than when I had my knee surgery (ACL and MCL) some years ago, as there is a lot of pain associated with drilling through bone...that wake-up was painful with lots of nausea and even throwing up in the barf-bag on the way home from the hospital.  Alas, this wake-up was easy.

Upon being wheeled back to my suite for the night, I was greeted by R and J and mom and dad.  They looked relieved to see me.  Jared was my savior and fed me ice chips.  I could not get enough of the ice.  My mouth was parched and after hours of a breathing tube I was hoarse, plus the don't eat/drink from the night before and fasting over the weekend, I was a little on the dehydrated side. 

The night was long, little sleep.  I got adequate pain control, some Dilaudid every two hours, from the surgical site (though could definitely tell when the anesthesia wore off), but it was the dang IV sites that kept irritating me.  The forearm site, which was placed during surgery, was stinging, so the nurse slowed down the IV drip, which helped with the irritation pain, but then I could not tolerate the constant sting, so had the nurse about midnight switch back to trying the hand IV, which was off and on with the pain.  At 5 a.m., I couldn't take the hand pain any more, which was increasing, so we switched back to the forearm IV site, again immediately the stinging pain started, so went to the hand and immediately had intense, swear-out-loud pain, so that IV was completely removed and I just had to deal with the IV irritation pain.  We skipped the saline solution completely and I concentrated on drinking fluid, but I was needing to get through an antibiotic drip.  Post shift change at 7 a.m., I called for my meds at 7:35 (was due for my every-two-hour IV med) at 7:30.  Finally, at 8 a.m. my nurse arrived with another bag of antibiotic.  Dang, here comes that stinging pain again, but fortunately a seasoned nurse supervisor stopped by and when I explained the IV site pain, she came back with a warm blanket.  Problem solved simply with warmth.  Wow, where was that blanket all during the night?  R arrived and said that the warmth probably dilated the vein which caused the pain to cease.  Ahh, relief. 

I just wanted to get out of the hospital and go home.  Breakfast arrived and my appetite had definitely arrived.  I ate everything, kept down the oral meds which were introduced, got to see all the necessary medical people on morning rounds and finally at noon was discharged, going home and sleeping soundly for the entire afternoon.  Nice.

RS brought in dinner, so lovely, so thoughtful.  I love my sisters.

Parents arrived in the afternoon and when they saw how mobile I was, able to get up and down by myself, doing very well, looking well, they were persuaded that they could return to Arizona, leaving this morning, as there was a storm coming in.  In fact, the wind has been blowing all day and now it's a winter blizzard outside, so I am so glad that they got away before the storm hit, as the next clearing window would have been days away. 

My new constant companion is a heart shaped pillow, skinny with a deep V, sewn as part of an Eagle project, which I place in my armpit, as that is where the most pain is interestingly, not the breast but the incision under my arm.

Speaking of arm, I was bummed to hear that my sentinel node tested positive for cancer.  In fact, Dr. Rasmussen said that he left the surgery to go to pathology and personally saw the node being sliced.  There were three spots of cancer, so Dr. Rasmussen ended up doing a full axillary dissection.  Not good news. 

However, the good news is that I'm home and recovering.  I stay in my PJs.  R is taking very good care of me, takes care of the drains and tomorrow night he will give me a shower and wash my hair.  Yes!!!  I cannot raise my right arm above the level of my shoulder, will not be allowed to do so for a couple weeks (to keep the stitches intact). 

My pillow and I will be checking back later.

Taking Deep Breaths

Cancer, surgery, chemo--these words keep flying around in my mind and I can't turn them off.  Monday is the day that I go into surgery.  It's going to be a long day OF WAITING.  I arrive to the surgical tower at 9:30 and do whatever?? and then I am taken over to the Breast Care Center where I will meet with a radiologist for an injection into the breast that will assist the surgeon in locating my sentinel lymph node (don't want to explain, so go look it up).  I was previously told that I would receive this injection an hour prior to surgery, but the scheduler today told me that I'm not scheduled for surgery until 2 p.m. (hope that they're not running late--just want to get it done, but then again I'm not looking forward to surgery).  Okay, I'm chicken.  Needles totally freak me, even make me a little vasovagal. 

Big breaths.

Mom and dad are in town and so took mom for my appt. to meet with a lady affiliated with ACS (American Cancer Society).  There's a library in the Huntsman Cancer Society building located at IMC (Intermountain Medical Center), and this lady took me (had an appt.) to a consultation room where she measured my head (I'm a large) and 95% of the wigs available to me were in average or small, so I came home with a brown wig (brand new, still has the tag on it), but it's short hair.  I probably will never wear and will return it.  The lady was great, spent an hour showing me how to wear scarfs, hats...seems like I'll probably need to make my scarfs, as again I have a LARGE head and what is for sale most likely will not work.  I came home with a hat (the only one that would fit) and a head covering with a very cute band made by some volunteers.  Bless their hearts.  The head covering, black, is too small, but I can buy one from the ACS catalog to go with the cute band.  In fact, I'm thinking of buying a wig now that I know the size just for when I need to be in a picture (like Efrain's wedding in April?), plus am buying all sleeping caps, etc.  Big life changes.

Chemo brain must be already attacking because it did not dawn on me that I would also lose my eyebrows and eyelashes.  That made me really sad.  Big frown. 

Rafael is so supportive.  I'm blessed.

I just read Mary Nichols' blog and saw some of her videos.  She is a local news anchor who did a story on mammograms, had hers taped, and it turns out that a small cancer was located (she is a grade 1 and so had a lumpectomy).  Turns out that we have the same physician, maybe even the same oncologist?  (I don't know who my oncologist will be).  She just had her second round of chemo.  She's doing great, looks great.  She's a beautiful woman.  I'm feeling a little frumpy, okay a lot frumpy.  She looks beautiful even when she pulls off her wig.  She had the Neulasta shot and said that every bone in her body ached, that she couldn't sleep even 5 minutes, so ended up calling in sick that day, but other than that she is doing pretty good, some small amount of neuropathy, plus had some headaches when in loud places, like her son's basketball games. 

More big breaths. 

The "C" Word

They say that writing is healing and so now it's time to start a healing process. 

After a few days of sunny disposition, my upbeat attidue actually, Jared confronted me last night (after R went to bed) because I foolishly left my planner open on the desk and he was doing homework, noticed that I had written MRI on one of the weekly pages. 

Eleven days ago when I first had the "C" word said to me, we decided not to tell Jared until after the pathology results came back--well not telling anyone for that matter--and then I decided to prolong that conversation until the weekend, so that he had a couple days to digest.  I tried putting him off last night, but he told me that he looked back and saw the word biopsy written down last Friday and Dr. Rasmussen's name written down in the forthcoming week. 

What's going on mom?

We had the talk.  Dang.  Too soon, and on a school night too, when he should be in bed sleeping and not crying.  Dang. Dang. Dang. 

I have breast cancer.  Officially, I cannot have that diagnosis until I get the phone call today telling me the results of the biopsy, but we know. 

Three weeks ago this Thursday (it's now Tuesday morning), I woke up and stretched, felt a tightness in my chest, reached down and felt a hard lump.  Hmmm?  Called my OB/GYN here in Riverton who was gone but her MA set me up w/an appointment for the next day. 

Yup, that's a lump.  We'll get you in for a diagnostic mammo and maybe even an ultrasound, the first available appointment being a week later, the following Friday.  I've only been to this OB/GYN once before, this past spring.  I told her that I had a cyst in that same breast, same area verified on ultrasound seven years previously and was told when and if it started to grow that I could choose whether or not to drain it, all dependent upon comfort.  Note:  Cysts are benign fluid-filled sacs, very common in women's breasts.  In fact, breasts are notorious for lumps and bumps and the vast majority are benign.

During the week I wasn't even concerned.  After all, it was just that cyst which had grown, which previously had been unpalpable, only detected on a routine mammo.

Radiologist came in after the technician took my ultrasound following the mammo and took some more shots, jelled me up even on the opposite side of the breast where the lump was located.  I knew something was off when he didn't rush back to his work station after quickly telling me his confirmation of a cyst. 

"Margaret, what I see is tissue suspicious for cancer."  There, I heard that dreaded word.  Let's get you scheduled for a biospy, then proceeded to explain why and how a biopsy.  "Any questions?"

"Doctor, did the technician point out in my history that I had a cyst in that same location a few years back?"  (I was in denial and holding on to this being a benign cyst). 

"Yes, but it's not a cyst.  Cysts show up as dark spots on ultrasound.  Besides, cysts are regularly shaped, generally round.  This is irregularly shaped."

I found myself at the Quilted Bear, had a coupon in my pocket 'cause I was going to buy Erica her wedding present post "cyst diagnosis" on my way home.  I had gone shopping pre Erica's wedding, found what I wanted, but R was badgering for a gift card.  Too impersonal said I.  We didn't get anything for her wedding and now it was time to purchase and mail.  I walked to the aisle where it should have been, but it was gone, checked the aisle on either side.  The tears were building and then I saw someone I knew walk in the front door...can't have her see me cry.  Hurredly left the store and sobbed in my car.

Sobbing seemed to be the order of the day.  I sobbed in R's arms when I got home, told him that it wasn't a cyst.  That's all that really needed to be said.  He was packing for a campout at Crystal Hot Springs with the Priests and Teachers.  I assured him that I would be fine home alone, in fact needed to be alone so that I could nurse the opened wound and didn't want to hide from Jared.  It was a sleepless night, an awful night, tossing and turning, finally watching a movie in the middle of the night, returning to bed and stared at the ceiling, falling asleep as the morn was breaking, sleeping for a couple hours only. 

Last Thursday it all became real again, as the hospital called for preadmittance info and then Dr. Bowman called me in the afternoon.  I didn't expect that.  She had the copy of the "abnormal" mammo on her desk and said that she was leaving town for the week but wanted to talk to me.  Almost first question out of her mouth, "Are you sleeping?" 

I admitted my anxiety and its influence on my sleep.  We talked of ways to help.  We talked of names of physicians.  We talked of lots of thinks and she didn't rush me to finish the conversation.  I am very grateful of the time that she took to call.  She, of course, was reminding me that the results were not back.  However, I think she knew.  It was good to have her talk to me, a real good bedside manner.  I feel that she truly cares, but it did set me off in tears and R came home then.  We had a deep talk and I told him that I wasn't trying to be negative, but my gut feeling is that I do have cancer, that this is not a benign mass.  He nodded.  I think he knew, too.  I told him of my fears, my trouble sleeping.  He told me honestly that he didn't know of how severely it was affecting me.  I also sobbed that I was weak and terribly afraid of the biopsy itself, not what the results would show, but simply the core extractor, having my skin cut to insert and that I would be awake.  I'm such a wimp.  I was over-the-top afraid.  He didn't beride me, but helped me.

The next day he gave me a blessing, which I knew would help, and it did help calm me.  The biopsy was scary, but in retrospect not as bad as I had imagined.  I had heard horror stories about extreme pain, swelling and bruising.  After the lidocaine shot, I had no pain.  I've had no swelling and the bruising is minimal. 

The radiologist and technician, after I explained my extreme fear, were very helpful.  Bless their souls.  The radiologist suggested that it helps to look at the screen rather than close the eyes.  He was right.  He pointed out the white line (the needle) as it moved through the breast tissue during the numbing procedure.  At first I didn't want to look, but he said it was fascinating.  He kept try to bring me to his side, that it was all interesting and not horrific. 

He told me that he agreed with the radiologist the week previous, that the breast tissues look like cancer and that he also agreed that I need an MRI (I didn't know that the previous pathologist had recommended an MRI).  He told me that we should schedule all this prior to my leaving that day, also an appointment with a surgeon.  Ee-gads.  It's real.  He wants me to see a surgeon.  Of course, he tempered it with there is the possibility of a negative report, however he interpreted cancer.  He even said, "you will most likely get the pathology results back by Tuesday afternoon, you can have the MRI on Wednesday and Thursday be in to the surgeon.  We should get moving on this." 

Turns out that the surgeon which Dr. Bowman recommended (though she recommended a couple others, a lady surgeon at LDS and the surgeon at Riverton she also felt was very good) can't see us until Feb. 14 (yup, Valentine's Day, sucks, sucks, sucks).  It is Dr. Rasmussen.  Turns out this is the same surgeon who did R's hernia some years back.  It feels right to have him, and so we will wait. 

Jared told me last night that I'm his best friend and he doesn't want to lose me.  Oh, that breaks my heart.  He was fighting the tears as I dropped him off at school, told me how much he loved me.  I cried all the way home.  I wish he didn't have to go through this.  Dang me for leaving that planner open.  He shouldn't have this on his mind while at school.  I love that guy so much and I wish he had his brothers home or a best friend with whom to talk. 

Alas, I await the phone call this afternoon giving me the pathology results. 

Life can play some cruel jokes.