Hi ho hi ho it's not to work i go....

I had originally thought I'd work up until surgery, but quickly realized the fallacy in that - no way was my mind going to be focused enough, not to mention the endless phone calls and the medical appointments: chest x-rays, blood work-up, eegs and pre-op exams.  Then there is the "babysitting" to coordinate - that's for me.  It's one thing to ask a friend to pick you up some soup, or swing by and let the dog out.  It's an entirely different scenario to ask them to take hours out of their day to hang out and help with all the little things you aren't even sure are going to come up.  Being a slightly (smirk) independent person the idea of requesting assistance is difficult at best, even with the influx of offers to help.  And there have been many offers.

Of all the things that have surprised me, this has been one of the biggest.  The number of people who have reached out and offered help, of any kind.  Driving, or cooking or just being there.  I am humbled by the kindness and willingness of others to help.  How truly blessed we are.

October 21 - an (almost) clean house

I must be "nesting".  They said I would go through this when I was pregnant, but I didn't.  Now though, I am finding it extremely cathartic and beneficial to keep busy. Tiring, but helpful.  I have lists of things that need to be in place before I go into surgery next Wednesday, and having my house in sufficient shape to accept visitors is right at the top of the list.  


This house has been a disaster area for years now.  It seems every time I started to make progress on improving and organizing something significant happened.  This time, however, the order is reversed:  something significant happened and now I'm making progress.  And, after moving 50 years of accumulated possessions for my parents 6 times, I have a new motto:  "Toss it."  Simple enough.  No place to put it?  Toss it.  Haven't used it in the last year?  Toss it.  Can't remember who those people are in the picture?  Toss it.  (Okay, so this one doesn't apply to people in old black & white photos from the early 1900's, but anyone else is fair game.)  


The "toss it" motto is making my life a lot easier and allowing me to make significant progress quickly, which gets me thinking - should I be applying this to other aspects of my life?  What other things are cluttering my life which need to get tossed?  What things should be dusted off an put on display?  I find that the things that matter to me are more evident now that I have tossed a few things.  The mantel is neatly lined with photos of my wonderful daughter, some pottery she made me, a small sculpture from a friend and a beautiful wood carving from the young woman we sponsor in Uganda.  The walls are beginning to be decorated mainly with the art work of family and friends.  One of a kind pieces that remind me of them. And at the top of a bookcase stands an old wooden cross.   


The clutter is going away and I can see more clearly what matters most.

October 14

October 14, my daughter turned 18!  
She is already an amazing young woman, strong, intelligent, and beautiful.  She has gone through a lot over the last 18 years, and she knows we are headed into another obstacle course. This one we will navigate together.  


When she was 6 years old I had sinus surgery for the second time.  After a day surgery and a night at my parents, I returned to our town home.  She and I had set up the ground floor living room to accommodate sleeping for the next few days, as I was under orders to not climb the stairs to our bedrooms.  She had spent the day prior with her Dad and grandma, and as I settled in she came through the door dressed in a nurse costume and toting chicken soup that she and "pop-pop" had made for us, and some cookies to boot!  She was so cute, and also so serious about her responsibilities and taking care of me.  For dinner she heated the soup in the microwave, and wouldn't let me lift a finger.  I remember thinking then what an amazing young lady she was and now  12 years later she is even more wonderful than I could ever have imagined.  


I spent the day at the Mayo clinic, while Kate spent the day at school.  We had picked up bagels for her first hour class and I had dropped her at her Dad's the night before.  At 5 o'clock in the morning, I left my house.  First stop was picking up my friend, Doreen, who had offered to come along with me, even though it meant being up early enough to drive to Rochester and make a 730 am checkin.  Mayo was great, and their second opinion gave me confidence in my treatment decision.  When we returned home I wanted to spend the rest of the day, and the next, "cancer free".  It was my daughter's birthday and she deserved to have a light-hearted day free of "sick talk".  Then on Sunday, we discussed what I had learned and we agreed on Park Nicollet/Methodist for the treatment.  Finally, a plan we can start working.


  

October 7th

Prologue, part 2:

On October 7th I wrote this on my Facebook wall:  

3 weeks ago I went in for my annual mammogram

2 weeks ago I was called back in for additional images 
1 week ago I had a biopsy 
Today I have breast cancer

An annual mammogram.  I had them every year.  Some years I went early because I had felt a lump, and there had been many lumps.  Many years they called me back for additional images after the initial mammogram:  ultrasounds, more mammograms.  This year, it was additional mammogram images.  I wasn't worried - I hadn't even felt a lump.   Then came the biopsy, but I had friends and co-workers who came out clean.  I was only a little worried.

On October 4th I was at work, dashing between meeting as usual, and swinging through the cafe to refill my coffee cup - my "Amy's" mug from Caribou commemorating breast cancer awareness month.  My phone rang and I knew.  I have breast cancer.  breast cancer.  Okay, now what -

An MRI on Oct 5, a visit with the surgeon on Oct 6, a decision on Oct 7:  Bi-lateral mastectomy.  

The most frustrating part of this whole thing for me is that no one will tell you what the best course of action is.  The surgeon, the oncologist, the plastic surgeon, the nurses.  If one more person says to me "it's a very personal decision" I think I'm going to lose it.  I want to scream they are just boobs, fatty tissue - if it were on my hips you wouldn't be telling me it was a "personal decision".  If I was a man you wouldn't be telling me "it's a personal decision".  You would be telling me - "let's get that cancer out of you and then just for good measure let's zap that sucker."   The last thing I need to hear is "it's a personal decision."  I want facts.  Statistics.  Guaranteed return on investment.  

So I go into "business mode":  Give me the data, I know I won't have all the information, but I will have sufficient information to make an educated decision, which is a far cry better than "it's a personal decision."   I run two organizations in parallel, they are both good:  Mayo Clinic Rochester and Park Nicollet/Methodist.  Each has it's trade offs, but in the end I select PN/M because they are able to get me in sooner, they are closer to home for family and follow up, I instinctively trust my oncologist and, luck of the draw, I was selected for some kind of "medical review" and my case was reviewed by the entire oncology team.  It will go back to them if anything deviates from expectations, so I now feel I have a true team working on my behalf.  There's no "guarantee" - but i have a strategic plan.  

How it all began

Since I'm starting this blog near, but not quite at, the beginning, I figured I'd back it up.  You can consider these first post-dated blogs my "prologue":


October 1st:   
On October 1st I wrote on my FB wall:
October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I post this ribbon in memory of Laurel Maki.  If you know someone who's life has been affected by breast cancer, join me in posting a ribbon in their honor/memory.


Laurel was my childhood friend, who I had temporarily lost touch with but had reconnected with at the beginning of her breast cancer fight.  I was on my first of many trips to the ER with my mom, she was on one of her many trips for chemo.  5 years and about 30 days later, after just celebrating her "remission" from breast cancer, they found another tumor, the cancer had metastasized.  Laurel went to our class reunion, and then her life became very private.  I've talked to other breast cancer warriors and they tell me that it's not uncommon.  Breast cancer and the fight overtake your life when you are on your second or third round. You have time for family and your "new family" - other breast cancer warriors, people would can relate to your new world.  Last year Laurel died leaving 3 boys, many friends and many memories.  She is greatly missed.