This is the week of waiting. I have no doctor appointments, no tests. Just a mission to get as close to 100% as I can before starting chemo next week. My right arm is at about 80% normal functionality. Still some swelling, but in general, I am able to use it in a fairly normal way. The left is closer to 40%, this is the side where the lymph nodes were removed. My energy level is still way low. I am pushing to make it through the day without a nap, so I end up dozing off in the early evening. I know most of that is just my body healing, but I wonder how much is the absence of caffeine also, I love my coffee, but one less drug in my system is good thing.
Wednesday it will be 4 weeks since my surgery, and 1 week until chemo begins. A new adventure in this journey to wellness. Since my dear friend is preceding me in her cancer treatment, I have some idea of what to expect; but our chemo "cocktails" are different and will have different side effects. I am told there will be nausea, but they have great anti-nausea drugs these days and it should be minimal. I'm also told I will lose my hair. Nothing we can do about that, so hat shopping we will go.
I am glad this week of waiting is also the week of Thanksgiving. My daughter is home, and there is plenty of time to focus on the right things, the things we are thankful for. I cannot yet say I am thankful for this cancer, although I do believe that some day I will look back and be grateful for the things I have taken away from this experience. For now, I can say I am thankful for the outpouring of support, love, and prayers. I have received so much help from so many people, I know we would not have made it through this without you all.
I am thankful for the cards and notes of encouragement, they have come from so many friends and each day I receive one I am overcome again with a deep sense of gratitude to you all.
I am thankful for the people who have shared their faith with me and provided their prayers; your witness strengthens my faith.
I am thankful for my job, and that I work for a company that has wonderful benefits which enable to me to have the time off which I need to recover, the insurance which is keeping me from bankrupting over the medical bills, and the salary which is allowing me to pay my bills and hire help where I need it this winter.
I am thankful for the people who are stepping up to fill the gaps I've left in my commitments at work and at church.
I am thankful I live in at a time where pretty much everything can be delivered to my door... it sure makes it easier to keep stocked in groceries and supplies.
I am thankful for my home; while I complain about the ever growing list of repairs, I know I am truly blessed to have a safe and warm home to recuperate within.
I am thankful for laughter, especially laughter in times of stress and sadness - it is cathartic, humor really is wonderful medicine and provides a sense of "normality".
I am thankful for my life so far - the smooth and the rocky parts. I have become the person I am because of the people I have known, the challenges I have overcome, and because of those I am still working to overcome. And I can honestly say, I am content.
But I am most thankful for my daughter, her love and her support, her strength, the wonderful way she thinks, her creativity and beauty, her ability to connect with people of all ages. She is both my child and my friend. She is my amazing gift from God. I was blessed the day she was born as I have been every day since.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
comments fixed
It came to my attention that some viewers were prevented from adding comments. Sorry about that, settings have been corrected.
post script 12.23.11 - if you subscribe via email, the easiest way to add comments is by clicking the title, this will take to to the actual post page where you will be able to comment at the bottom of the blog post. "Replying" to subscription emails generates emails that go back to google blogger and not directly to me. Sorry for any confusion.
post script 12.23.11 - if you subscribe via email, the easiest way to add comments is by clicking the title, this will take to to the actual post page where you will be able to comment at the bottom of the blog post. "Replying" to subscription emails generates emails that go back to google blogger and not directly to me. Sorry for any confusion.
The oak and the maple
My "set up" at home is a reclining chair in the living room with a clear view of the maple tree in my front yard. It's autumn and when I headed in for surgery the leaves were changing and falling, except on my maple. My maple tree is one of the last trees to drop it's leaves in the neighborhood. Every autumn, I can drive down my winding street and see yards full of leaves: birch, elm, but mostly oak, lots of oak leaves. But as you come around the curve there will be my maple tree, full of leaves and full of color. Even now, mid-November and after days of heavy winds, there are still yellow leaves clinging to the bottom branches.
When I looked at that maple tree I thought of the symbolism. This tree is hanging on longer than any other tree. It boasts of beautiful colors, which it hangs on to until the last possible moment, and only once winter is truly upon it, does it relinquish its leaves. I want to be like that tree, holding on, fighting until the last leaf drops.... or do I?
I think about the oak. It grows taller and stronger than the other trees. When the strong wind comes, its roots are deep and it holds on, firmly planted in a strong foundation. Branches may fall, but the tree stands. When the seasons change, the oak acknowledges the change, goes with the flow and drops its leaves, then moves forward. It may not be the most beautiful site, but it is as ready for the winter as it will be for the spring that inevitably comes on the winter's heels. The oak doesn't hold onto the little things.
So which one will I be, an oak or a maple? I already know, that like the oak, I have deep roots. Grounded in a foundation of faith and family, they've been growing for 47 years and with every event in our lives, good or bad, they've taken deeper root. But, like the maple, I find it's easy to get caught up in the little things, and forget to let go.
Someone once said to me, "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger; but then it kills you". I laughed when I heard this faux-cynicism, but now that I think of it, there's a tone of truth. Focusing on the "leaves" only gives the appearance of making us stronger. And focusing on the "leaves" prevents me from focusing on the things that will make me stronger - my "roots". So, I have to remind myself to focus on the things that strengthen my roots, and not the things in life that come and go - the "leaves" if you will. Because a lifetime of focusing on the leaves will weaken my roots, and weak roots, make even a slight breeze feel like a tornado.
So I will strive to be an oak, and let the leaves of life fall where they may.
When I looked at that maple tree I thought of the symbolism. This tree is hanging on longer than any other tree. It boasts of beautiful colors, which it hangs on to until the last possible moment, and only once winter is truly upon it, does it relinquish its leaves. I want to be like that tree, holding on, fighting until the last leaf drops.... or do I?
I think about the oak. It grows taller and stronger than the other trees. When the strong wind comes, its roots are deep and it holds on, firmly planted in a strong foundation. Branches may fall, but the tree stands. When the seasons change, the oak acknowledges the change, goes with the flow and drops its leaves, then moves forward. It may not be the most beautiful site, but it is as ready for the winter as it will be for the spring that inevitably comes on the winter's heels. The oak doesn't hold onto the little things.
So which one will I be, an oak or a maple? I already know, that like the oak, I have deep roots. Grounded in a foundation of faith and family, they've been growing for 47 years and with every event in our lives, good or bad, they've taken deeper root. But, like the maple, I find it's easy to get caught up in the little things, and forget to let go.
Someone once said to me, "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger; but then it kills you". I laughed when I heard this faux-cynicism, but now that I think of it, there's a tone of truth. Focusing on the "leaves" only gives the appearance of making us stronger. And focusing on the "leaves" prevents me from focusing on the things that will make me stronger - my "roots". So, I have to remind myself to focus on the things that strengthen my roots, and not the things in life that come and go - the "leaves" if you will. Because a lifetime of focusing on the leaves will weaken my roots, and weak roots, make even a slight breeze feel like a tornado.
So I will strive to be an oak, and let the leaves of life fall where they may.
Friday, November 11, 2011
The warriors
The more I learn about breast cancer the more I think the term "survivor" seems odd. I like Ford's Warriors in Pink campaign and the reminder that this is an ongoing battle for the women that have been diagnosed with breast cancer. And so, it is those individuals to whom I pay tribute in this post.
I'll be honest, when I was first diagnosed the first person I thought of was the childhood friend I had lost the year before. But then I started to think about "J", a friend at church who was diagnosed years ago when our daughters were in still elementary school. She is fabulous and has provided support and is person I know I can reach out to at a moments notice for information and guidance. At there are more at church. "K" - who is one of the strongest women I know and whom I would never have known had breast cancer except that she was one of many people I was pointed to as resources from my church who had breast cancer and kicked it to the curb.
At work there were more warriors, and there are friends in my community and friends of friends who reached out with offers of help, support, experience and love. 1 in 8 equates to a lot of warriors.
What is it about being a warrior that makes these women so special; that makes them wear pink and walk for 3 days or even just 5k? What makes them speak out and continue to bring attention to this disease? Or silently move about their life, keeping the waters calm and the path clear for their family, quiet heroines in the battle?
I think it's just the fact that they are focused on moving forward with life, of battling and surviving and moving forward. And because breast cancer is by far the leading cancer in women, and second only to prostate cancer in the combined population (btw - prostate cancer is associated to the BRCA gene also), so we hear about breast cancer more.
But cancer is cancer; and warriors are warriors. And my dear friend who is battling colon cancer right now, she is a warrior. And my daughter, who takes this journey with me, she is a warrior.
And cancer is personal. We approach our diagnoses different. Some want information and as much knowledge as they can get, others want normality and to move beyond with as little thought to their cancer as possible. There is no right way, but there are plenty of warriors out there who set amazing examples which we can learn from and follow.
And follow we do, because more people survive cancer than don't; and survival rates are increasing and treatment is improving and research is gaining more and more information. And even the statistics they give me today on what the chances are of surviving for 10 years are based on people who had a diagnosis 10 or more years ago, and didn't have the advantage of today's treatments and research.
So call me a warrior, because I will continue to battle for a cure long after I am cured.
And I will survive.
que: Gloria Gaynor :)
post script: If you are a warrior I would love to hear from you, please add a comment or drop me a note.
I'll be honest, when I was first diagnosed the first person I thought of was the childhood friend I had lost the year before. But then I started to think about "J", a friend at church who was diagnosed years ago when our daughters were in still elementary school. She is fabulous and has provided support and is person I know I can reach out to at a moments notice for information and guidance. At there are more at church. "K" - who is one of the strongest women I know and whom I would never have known had breast cancer except that she was one of many people I was pointed to as resources from my church who had breast cancer and kicked it to the curb.
At work there were more warriors, and there are friends in my community and friends of friends who reached out with offers of help, support, experience and love. 1 in 8 equates to a lot of warriors.
What is it about being a warrior that makes these women so special; that makes them wear pink and walk for 3 days or even just 5k? What makes them speak out and continue to bring attention to this disease? Or silently move about their life, keeping the waters calm and the path clear for their family, quiet heroines in the battle?
I think it's just the fact that they are focused on moving forward with life, of battling and surviving and moving forward. And because breast cancer is by far the leading cancer in women, and second only to prostate cancer in the combined population (btw - prostate cancer is associated to the BRCA gene also), so we hear about breast cancer more.
But cancer is cancer; and warriors are warriors. And my dear friend who is battling colon cancer right now, she is a warrior. And my daughter, who takes this journey with me, she is a warrior.
And cancer is personal. We approach our diagnoses different. Some want information and as much knowledge as they can get, others want normality and to move beyond with as little thought to their cancer as possible. There is no right way, but there are plenty of warriors out there who set amazing examples which we can learn from and follow.
And follow we do, because more people survive cancer than don't; and survival rates are increasing and treatment is improving and research is gaining more and more information. And even the statistics they give me today on what the chances are of surviving for 10 years are based on people who had a diagnosis 10 or more years ago, and didn't have the advantage of today's treatments and research.
So call me a warrior, because I will continue to battle for a cure long after I am cured.
And I will survive.
que: Gloria Gaynor :)
post script: If you are a warrior I would love to hear from you, please add a comment or drop me a note.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
The good, the bad and the ugly
It seems that each step along the way has yielded both good and not so good news.
"You have cancer, but the good news is we think we've caught it early".
"Your cancer is a grade 2 moderately aggressive cancer, but the good news is it's not grade 3 which is the most aggressive."
"Your cancer was in one of the lymph nodes, but the good news is it wasn't in any of the other 9 we removed".
"You have the breast cancer gene, but the good news is only one of your "copies" is positive for this mutation."
I have the breast cancer gene, known as BRCA. This was my worst fear, because this means there is a chance I have passed this gene onto my daughter. What is amazing though is that this testing exists and is there to help us put preventive measures in place.
When I was in high school, the mother of one of my friends developed breast cancer. Her cancer later metastasized and by the time we graduated she had died. 20 years later, her daughter, my friend, had breast cancer. There was no genetic testing, no "early detection" rituals beyond sending her in for mammograms at a younger age. Like me though, she had extremely dense tissue and so mammograms are rarely sufficient for detecting the cancer early. I was luckier than her, and my cancer was caught early. She went in for a lump on her breast, they did a mammogram and didn't see anything to be worried about. She went back in, and back in, and back in... finally she insisted on further testing and they found the cancer. 30 days after finally hitting the 5 year mark and being told she was in remission, the cancer reappeared. Last year, my friend died; and I wonder if she had had the advantage of genetic testing, and the choices that avails us of, if she would be around today.
And then I think about the choices she would have to make; like whether to do a preemptive mastectomy or hysterectomy, whether to use oral contraceptives, which can increase your chances of breast cancer, but reduce your chances of ovarian cancer. Is ignorance bliss, or is bliss, when 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer, just ignorance?
Each person receives 2 copies of this gene, one from each parent, and it only takes a single faulty version to increase the cancer risk. Right now, with no further testing, we know that my daughter has a 50% chance of having inherited this faulty gene from me. And there is breast cancer within her father's family too.
This is the bad.
So there are decisions to make. For me the decisions are easy. With the faulty BRCA gene, my chances are also increased for developing ovarian cancer, so a full hysterectomy will be in order. The question is whether or not we do this before chemo or after chemo. More tests to determine the risk of waiting will drive that decision for me.
For my daughter there are also decisions: to test or not to test; who to test; what to do if the results are positive. The hospital has a straight-forward policy, partially based on your psychological health and partially based on the insurance and cost implications. Insurance may or may not pay for the testing I have already undergone. With no medical history (I am adopted with no birth family medical information), and already having a breast cancer diagnosis, the only option was a full DNA "read"; about $4000. For my daughter it is possible for them to test just for the specific mutation that I may have passed on. This is relatively inexpensive versus the full DNA translation, because they know exactly where in the string to jump to and what to look for. A few hundred dollars and we have our answer, at least for the gene she received from me.
So why is this test so expensive and exclusive? Because the firm in Utah that identified and mapped the gene has secured a patent for their findings which makes it impossible for other research firms or hospitals to use the information. A suit was brought against them, in an effort to overturn the patent rights, but has been rejected. It is moving up through the courts and will eventually land itself in the supreme court.
How any company can claim the right to the information contained in a DNA string that is currently in my body is beyond me. Surely, if possession is 9 tenths of the law, then women with breast cancer would "own" the right to have the hospital of their choice "read" the DNA sequence within their body. I am appalled that a corporation is allowed to put it's own interests ahead of the common good, basically holding hostage the information that could help detect future cancer risk in many women. If this was information that would lead to the prevention of a probable bombing or germ "warfare", I have no doubt that the government would step in and seize the information for the public good. So what's the hang-up?
Let's run the numbers. There are over 312 million people in the US, if we figure that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer, and of those 10% will be caused by the BRCA mutation, that's 1,984,902 women currently in the US population that, in their lifetime, will have breast cancer that could be detected through this testing and who are at risk without it.
1,984,902. That's more than 3 times the total casualties of WW1, WW2, the Korean and Vietnam combined.
And that is the ugly.
Want to read more on the lawsuit? NY Times article
"You have cancer, but the good news is we think we've caught it early".
"Your cancer is a grade 2 moderately aggressive cancer, but the good news is it's not grade 3 which is the most aggressive."
"Your cancer was in one of the lymph nodes, but the good news is it wasn't in any of the other 9 we removed".
"You have the breast cancer gene, but the good news is only one of your "copies" is positive for this mutation."
I have the breast cancer gene, known as BRCA. This was my worst fear, because this means there is a chance I have passed this gene onto my daughter. What is amazing though is that this testing exists and is there to help us put preventive measures in place.
Only 10% of all breast cancers are the result of carrying this BRCA mutated gene, but when you have the BRCA mutated gene your chances of getting breast cancer are extremely high. A company in Utah has figured out how to "read" the BRCA genes and identify any abnormalities within them. It's truly amazing, to identify a gene, and figure out how to "read" the dna string containing volumes of information, and identify when something, anything, is out of place. And then, to do something with that knowledge. If we just "know" that does nothing to reduce the risk; but women identified as carrying a faulty BRCA gene, who do not yet have cancer, are put on a more aggressive screening schedule and approach, beginning at age 25 or earlier if warranted. MRI is used versus mammograms alone, making it more likely that the breast cancer will be detected early on. And catching cancer early is the key to survival.
This is the good.
And then I think about the choices she would have to make; like whether to do a preemptive mastectomy or hysterectomy, whether to use oral contraceptives, which can increase your chances of breast cancer, but reduce your chances of ovarian cancer. Is ignorance bliss, or is bliss, when 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer, just ignorance?
Each person receives 2 copies of this gene, one from each parent, and it only takes a single faulty version to increase the cancer risk. Right now, with no further testing, we know that my daughter has a 50% chance of having inherited this faulty gene from me. And there is breast cancer within her father's family too.
This is the bad.
So there are decisions to make. For me the decisions are easy. With the faulty BRCA gene, my chances are also increased for developing ovarian cancer, so a full hysterectomy will be in order. The question is whether or not we do this before chemo or after chemo. More tests to determine the risk of waiting will drive that decision for me.
For my daughter there are also decisions: to test or not to test; who to test; what to do if the results are positive. The hospital has a straight-forward policy, partially based on your psychological health and partially based on the insurance and cost implications. Insurance may or may not pay for the testing I have already undergone. With no medical history (I am adopted with no birth family medical information), and already having a breast cancer diagnosis, the only option was a full DNA "read"; about $4000. For my daughter it is possible for them to test just for the specific mutation that I may have passed on. This is relatively inexpensive versus the full DNA translation, because they know exactly where in the string to jump to and what to look for. A few hundred dollars and we have our answer, at least for the gene she received from me.
So why is this test so expensive and exclusive? Because the firm in Utah that identified and mapped the gene has secured a patent for their findings which makes it impossible for other research firms or hospitals to use the information. A suit was brought against them, in an effort to overturn the patent rights, but has been rejected. It is moving up through the courts and will eventually land itself in the supreme court.
How any company can claim the right to the information contained in a DNA string that is currently in my body is beyond me. Surely, if possession is 9 tenths of the law, then women with breast cancer would "own" the right to have the hospital of their choice "read" the DNA sequence within their body. I am appalled that a corporation is allowed to put it's own interests ahead of the common good, basically holding hostage the information that could help detect future cancer risk in many women. If this was information that would lead to the prevention of a probable bombing or germ "warfare", I have no doubt that the government would step in and seize the information for the public good. So what's the hang-up?
Let's run the numbers. There are over 312 million people in the US, if we figure that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer, and of those 10% will be caused by the BRCA mutation, that's 1,984,902 women currently in the US population that, in their lifetime, will have breast cancer that could be detected through this testing and who are at risk without it.
1,984,902. That's more than 3 times the total casualties of WW1, WW2, the Korean and Vietnam combined.
And that is the ugly.
Want to read more on the lawsuit? NY Times article
Monday, November 7, 2011
home again home again jiggity jig
I've lost about 80% of my memory of the week following my return home. My migraine induced seizures bring about short term memory loss and fatigue. What I do recall is the faces of the wonderful people who took turns caring for me, and the continued presence of my wonderful daughter.
The return home began with a near immediate rejection of my body of the pain medication, followed shortly after by the start of seizures. By Tuesday I was back in the doctor, on a new antibiotic which worked much better, and on over-the-counter Tylenol for the surgery pain and headache. Early Thursday morning brought a new development with evidence of some significant bleeding coming from my sinus. I talked to multiple doctors and the consensus was a trip to the ER for a head scan. Despite my better judgement, and the advice of prior physicians to never go to the ER when I was having seizures (for fear they give me anti-epilepsy drugs, which in me actually increase the seizures), I headed to the ER with the help of a friend.
24 hours later, after an overnight stay, the neurologist arrived and pronounced the triumphant good news that I didn't have epilepsy. Of course, we already knew this and I explained to her that I had told the ER doctor that immediately, gave him my medical background and migraine seizure diagnosis from the Mayo Clinic, and, asked to have only the bleeding and the headache treated which would put an end to the seizures. She informed me that they had, in fact, given me anti-seizure drugs in the ER, part of their "headache cocktail". This explained my lack of consciousness for most of the last 24 hours. After answering questions from my daughter and friends, the neurologist left, looking a little bemused but encouraging me to connect with their headache clinic and informing us she would send in someone to look at the sinus. Within 30 minutes a different doctor arrived, announced the earlier CAT scan was clear, took a quick look at my sinus and stated I had evidence of a prolonged bleed, most likely caused from the oxygen during surgery and dry air at the hospital. He sent me home with directions on how to prevent and treat any future problems.
I arrived home Friday afternoon, under the care of my cousin and still with a pronounced headache, fighting off seizures, but managing to keep things at bay. On Saturday, my wonderful friend and massage therapist arrived and worked to relieve the stress and tension in my head, neck, and back, and the swelling in my arm. The result? Relief. No headache. No seizure battling. Peace. After a short evening relapse, quickly solved, I was now headache free and feeling more myself than I had in a week.
My memories are spotty, but my heart is full. Despite the darkness and nightmares that fill my sleep while I am fighting through the migraine seizures, my memories will always remain of the faces of my friends and family. My daughter, writing and reviewing care instructions with each person arriving for the first "shift" of the day; and the last beautiful, calming, angelic face I saw before I closed my eyes to sleep at night. My many friends sitting with me, caring for me, watching over me and caring for my daughter. Friends from church, work, neighborhood. Dear friends I've known for many years, and those I've more recently become acquainted with. The goodness of people, their willingness to help and support us is evidence to me of God's divine love.
The return home began with a near immediate rejection of my body of the pain medication, followed shortly after by the start of seizures. By Tuesday I was back in the doctor, on a new antibiotic which worked much better, and on over-the-counter Tylenol for the surgery pain and headache. Early Thursday morning brought a new development with evidence of some significant bleeding coming from my sinus. I talked to multiple doctors and the consensus was a trip to the ER for a head scan. Despite my better judgement, and the advice of prior physicians to never go to the ER when I was having seizures (for fear they give me anti-epilepsy drugs, which in me actually increase the seizures), I headed to the ER with the help of a friend.
24 hours later, after an overnight stay, the neurologist arrived and pronounced the triumphant good news that I didn't have epilepsy. Of course, we already knew this and I explained to her that I had told the ER doctor that immediately, gave him my medical background and migraine seizure diagnosis from the Mayo Clinic, and, asked to have only the bleeding and the headache treated which would put an end to the seizures. She informed me that they had, in fact, given me anti-seizure drugs in the ER, part of their "headache cocktail". This explained my lack of consciousness for most of the last 24 hours. After answering questions from my daughter and friends, the neurologist left, looking a little bemused but encouraging me to connect with their headache clinic and informing us she would send in someone to look at the sinus. Within 30 minutes a different doctor arrived, announced the earlier CAT scan was clear, took a quick look at my sinus and stated I had evidence of a prolonged bleed, most likely caused from the oxygen during surgery and dry air at the hospital. He sent me home with directions on how to prevent and treat any future problems.
I arrived home Friday afternoon, under the care of my cousin and still with a pronounced headache, fighting off seizures, but managing to keep things at bay. On Saturday, my wonderful friend and massage therapist arrived and worked to relieve the stress and tension in my head, neck, and back, and the swelling in my arm. The result? Relief. No headache. No seizure battling. Peace. After a short evening relapse, quickly solved, I was now headache free and feeling more myself than I had in a week.
My memories are spotty, but my heart is full. Despite the darkness and nightmares that fill my sleep while I am fighting through the migraine seizures, my memories will always remain of the faces of my friends and family. My daughter, writing and reviewing care instructions with each person arriving for the first "shift" of the day; and the last beautiful, calming, angelic face I saw before I closed my eyes to sleep at night. My many friends sitting with me, caring for me, watching over me and caring for my daughter. Friends from church, work, neighborhood. Dear friends I've known for many years, and those I've more recently become acquainted with. The goodness of people, their willingness to help and support us is evidence to me of God's divine love.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The hospital, the surgery and the smiley doctor.
On 10.26 I went in for my bi-lateral mastectomy. We arrived at 11 am, my daughter and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Friends arrived shortly after to support us and after they brought me back to be "prepped" my family and friends were brought in to wait with me for my 1pm surgery. An hour delay, and we were on our way. I'm amazed at how many times my wrist band was scanned and I was asked to confirm my identity. I'm so glad they do that, but it made me think that there must have been a pretty good reason they put the process and technology in place, and if I think about it too much it freaks me out.
When I walked into the operating room I recall saying, "it's a lot bigger on TV". The room was small, cool with a lot of stainless steel and light. I laid down, and was out like a light within seconds. I don't recall waking, but I do know my daughter was by my side immediately and her face is the constant in my memories. She slept in those semi-comfortable reclining hospital chairs, and we talked in the middle of the night. And for the first time, I see it. She has grown up, a woman - strong, capable, amazing. An incredibly intelligent and beautiful woman.
The next two days are spotty in my memory, but on Friday the release process began. I had been up, walking the hallways with my IV stand, eating normal food and feeling good except a headache that had started. "The smiley doctor" (so dubbed by my family and friends) came in first to look at me and clear me for release. He asked if I had "looked" yet and when I replied that I hadn't, he gave me a great piece of advice - "look". Women who look, become comfortable early with their surgery site do better emotionally and physically. So I looked.
I was surprised to see it appeared I had some breast tissue left, but soon realized that the effect was due to the expanders placed during the surgery to initiate the reconstruction. There are multiple incisions on the left side because of the lymph node removal and this this is the memory trigger - the cancer is in the lymph nodes. I'm no longer concerned about how I look and want to know - how much? How many lymph nodes are affected? We have to wait for the general surgeon for that answer.
Many people come and go over the next hours, as we wait for the general surgeon to make his rounds. At one point, my phone rings and it is my case worker from the Jane Brattain center calling to check on me. I tell her I am good, heading home today, but am anxious -waiting to hear on the lymph nodes. She tells me she has that information if I want it and of course, I do. The news is good - just one lymph node. They took 2 "sentinel" lymph nodes (these are the first nodes from which lymphatic fluid flow from the cancer site); one had cancer one did not. So they removed the first "tier" - the next stops in the lymphatic drainage - another 8 nodes. No cancer in any of those. It's not the best case, but it's pretty close.
A short while later, the general surgeon comes in; he clears me for release. And as my family prepares me to head out, my pastor and friend, Monica, arrives with the most beautiful prayer shawl knit for me by our church's prayer shawl ministry. She prays with us all, gives me a hug and within a few minutes I am out the door - on my way home - ready for my speedy recovery.
When I walked into the operating room I recall saying, "it's a lot bigger on TV". The room was small, cool with a lot of stainless steel and light. I laid down, and was out like a light within seconds. I don't recall waking, but I do know my daughter was by my side immediately and her face is the constant in my memories. She slept in those semi-comfortable reclining hospital chairs, and we talked in the middle of the night. And for the first time, I see it. She has grown up, a woman - strong, capable, amazing. An incredibly intelligent and beautiful woman.
The next two days are spotty in my memory, but on Friday the release process began. I had been up, walking the hallways with my IV stand, eating normal food and feeling good except a headache that had started. "The smiley doctor" (so dubbed by my family and friends) came in first to look at me and clear me for release. He asked if I had "looked" yet and when I replied that I hadn't, he gave me a great piece of advice - "look". Women who look, become comfortable early with their surgery site do better emotionally and physically. So I looked.
I was surprised to see it appeared I had some breast tissue left, but soon realized that the effect was due to the expanders placed during the surgery to initiate the reconstruction. There are multiple incisions on the left side because of the lymph node removal and this this is the memory trigger - the cancer is in the lymph nodes. I'm no longer concerned about how I look and want to know - how much? How many lymph nodes are affected? We have to wait for the general surgeon for that answer.
Many people come and go over the next hours, as we wait for the general surgeon to make his rounds. At one point, my phone rings and it is my case worker from the Jane Brattain center calling to check on me. I tell her I am good, heading home today, but am anxious -waiting to hear on the lymph nodes. She tells me she has that information if I want it and of course, I do. The news is good - just one lymph node. They took 2 "sentinel" lymph nodes (these are the first nodes from which lymphatic fluid flow from the cancer site); one had cancer one did not. So they removed the first "tier" - the next stops in the lymphatic drainage - another 8 nodes. No cancer in any of those. It's not the best case, but it's pretty close.
A short while later, the general surgeon comes in; he clears me for release. And as my family prepares me to head out, my pastor and friend, Monica, arrives with the most beautiful prayer shawl knit for me by our church's prayer shawl ministry. She prays with us all, gives me a hug and within a few minutes I am out the door - on my way home - ready for my speedy recovery.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)