It is well with my soul

Today is my birthday.  My 51^st to be exact.  This morning I wondered where the years went and then just as soon as that was in my head, I sent up a prayer saying thank you for those 51 years.   Trust me, I often wonder why I got to stay and others had to go.  Has my life turned out as I had planned it all those years ago?   No.  Not at all.  But it has turned out the way God wanted it to.  As I tell the angels, God gives us the tools, it is up to us to use them the way he intended us to use them (of course I forgot to mention the wrenches he throws at times too) and while I have misused a few of those tools,  I have been blessed beyond measure.

This morning started with donuts at Fracture Prune (or Ruptured Prune as Tom called it) with the Haydens, Billie and Tom.  Other than Mom, Billie has been the Prayer Queen during these 2 cancer journeys.  She has been there, done that and thrived.  A great role model (a roll she would rather not have been) and I have always hated that she had to witness it. Anyway, Billie had called ahead and I got a donut cake!  And, at the risk of Betsy killing me, I admit to forgetting to get a picture of it.  It was yummy!  However, it was just the sitting and talking which was the best part of it all.  And it was the talking which planted a seed… which is why I have ended up writing when apparently, according to all my Facebook posts, I should be out eating cupcakes, like many cupcakes, as in dozens. 

The seed started as a few jumbled thoughts and while driving to Harris Teeter, the seed grew and the thoughts became (yeah right, they became more jumbled, but this is my blog, so…) a plant.   Here is my plant….

Cancer has given me way more than it has taken from me.  Trust me, you cannot go through something like this and remain the same.  I look at things differently and try to see the good in everything and everyone more so than I used to.  Do I still bitch and want to slap people (of course I do, after all, stupidity surrounds us)?  Yet these days I (usually) stop and think about what the problem is before jumping in.  I have embraced the “everyone is going through something and to them, it is something even if it not something we understand or get, it is something to them” theory.  I have learned this lesson in spades. 

My faith has grown and I am better for it.  One thing I have always pointed out is that I am not a big religious freak.  I go about my business and follow my personal journey. I have never felt comfortable shoving my religious beliefs down someone’s throat.  I grew up in a very diverse area and knew there were many other faiths out there and I understand and respect this.    Yet now I find myself sharing Bible verses and soaking in the prayers sent up for me.  I have found that I am surrounded by wonderful, caring, prayerful friends—no matter what their religion. This is a gift beyond words. 

I have been humbled.  Beyond belief humbled.  There are times I wish people could see my side of it and then I hope and pray they never do.  I have cards from people I barely know, I have gifts from people I can never repay, I have prayer shawls from people I have never met and I have been on prayer chains all over the world.  I have friends, family and acquaintances,  all of whom are and have been there to lift me up, care for me ,ask me how I am and ask what can they do for me. All of this is very hard for independent me to accept.  However, in order to fully embrace and understand this wacky journey, I have had to accept all of it.  

I know I sound like a broken record, but I really am good with everything I have gone through. I would have liked to have said a boob does not define me.  However, it has.   And while it is not the path I would have chosen to learn the lessons I have learned, it is well with my soul.

Cancer sucks. It's that simple

4 years ago this very day, I had my last chemo treatment.  I remember thinking there was no way in hell I could be more tired.  Then I did radiation and knew without a doubt, that yes, there was a way in hell I could be more tired.  4 years later and again I am dealing with this tired crap.  At least I have my hair.  Granted I am down a boob, but my hair is staying put this time.  It’s the small things that matter.  Trust me.

Speaking of Pia, she seems to be healing rather nicely or so I hope.  After getting that stupid drain out, the good Dr told me that some people get seroma (a buildup of fluid in case you were wondering.  I googled it and oops, typed in sarcoma in by mistake.  Big difference).   Of course I asked how do you treat it.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Aspiration I was told.  Well hell, the last time she aspirated Pia she took out more than 100 ccs of crap.  With a needle as big as the Empire State Building.   I have been sending up lots of prayers as that woman loves needles.  There is some fluid, but I have been reassured by Billy that it will be absorbed and that probably explains the aches I am having.  Not sure how I feel about that.  After all, he is 50/50 on this whole cancer thing.  I see Dr Lynn Thursday so fingers crossed that the needles are kept in the drawer.  I have my doubts as my history has been less than stellar.

A few notes on Pia and her passing…

·        I have enjoyed pointing out to Billy that his right boob is bigger than mine.

·        Every so often I will look down my shirt and say – well crap; it’s still not growing back.

·        She has new various names… however I am partial to Phantom Boob—she does ache and I am hoping that ends like soon. Very soon. 

·        Tylenol and ibuprofen are much better than the other stuff.  Well, not as good as the stuff I got in my IV, but it works.

·        When trying on shirts, one must remember a certain arm is not usable.  Got stuck in 2 shirts today.  I wonder what the lady in the next dressing room was thinking. 

·        I cannot open anything.  Funny how using a knife is not easy but a fork is.  Go figure.

·        During the first round, I got this awesome little pillow from the Pink Ribbon Project.  It has a pink checkered case.  I carry it everywhere as it just helps.  However, it is best in the car. Seatbelts are not my friend and I always wear my seatbelt. Always.  So I now tuck that pillow under the seatbelt.  I wonder what those who can see are thinking.  Probably think I am one of those who needs a security blanket.

·        For some reason I have had Growing up Skipper on my mind.  If you did not have that Barbie—look it up. It was the one when you flipped her arm one way, her boobs grew. Flipped it back and they shrunk.  I am like her except Pia is gone forever, not matter how I move my arm.

·        Honestly, I am not at all bothered about losing Pia.  According to the pathology report, she needed to be history.  Luckily she was selfish and kept it all to herself.  Talk about taking one for the team. 

Isaiah 41:10

Do not fear, for I am with you,

Do not be afraid, for I am your God;

I will strengthen you, I will help you,

I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.

Drains, pains and life

I will not lie.  That drain was a pain in the ass.  Like totally.  Like really.  It hurt like hell and Dr Lynn should be dead as I know the look I gave her when she took it out and asked me if I wanted it was spot on.  How do I know it was spot on?   I got the evil smile. 

Rewind to Wednesday, May 4, the day of the surgery to lob off Pia.  All went well, I was greeted in my pre op room by Nurse Mike—remember this for later—who I happen to know and was so glad he was the one to get me prepped for surgery.  Even the needle did not bother me.  Then I was in and out of the OR in about an hour.  Not the same for the Recovery Room as I was there for about 6 hours until I was taken to my room.  I remember Mom coming in once and then she stuck around somewhere until I was in my room.  At which point Betsy came bearing a large unsweet tea. Betsy is a better person then I am as she knew to get the bucket when the color drained from my face and boy did I appreciated that.  Had it been me, I would have gotten the bucket for myself and let whoever I was with deal with their own output. 

Because I used the golden N word (nauseated) I won a 2 day stay at the Betty Cameron Women’s & Children’s Hospital (long name—but part of New Hanover and very nice I will say).   For 2 days I enjoyed the hospitality of an awesome nursing staff, food usually the way I ordered it and drugs.  In the IV drugs.  Life was good.  Then, on Friday morning in between surgeries, Dr Lynn discharged me saying DO NOT OVERDO IT.  I assured her I would not. 

Fast forward to this morning when I got to get that damn drain out.  I had fantasized about getting it out as it really hurt from Monday on.  No matter what I did, it seemed to get pulled somehow or twisted. And it hurt like hell.   My chauffeur and I were early and the good Dr came to get me herself.  I thought I was important but she set me straight with the there was no reason to get my weight or other vitals statement.  Good call.  I get in the exam room and her first words were I heard you went to church on Sunday.   Really?! Had I been on my A game, I would have told her I went to pray for her soul, but I was on my D game and  very confused, and I was racking my brain to figure out who ratted me out.  I was like seriously, how in the world at which point she said it was … Nurse Mike (paybacks my dear, paybacks).   At this point she goes to take out the drain, and as I am lifting my shirt I nail the damn thing.  Nailed it as in tears in my eyes nailed.  I’m dying and she goes for it.  I’m like what the hell are you waiting for aren’t you done yet at which point she tells me she has 3 more feet to pull out.  I freaked.  Then she smiled that evil smile and said.. Just kidding, it’s out.  She is evil, but good. The relief was instantaneous.  

After getting a few directions, making my follow up appointment, her laughing at my trusty day planner—amusing as she will not use her phone either—and then she looked at my work schedule (which is in the front of my trusty day planner) said oh crap—I use that same one for the on call schedule (we must be related on some level) I was on my merry little way. As Mae Ling and I are getting in the elevator—I remembered the big thing I was supposed to tell her (and she had reminded me to ask too as I was not letting her in when the drain was being ripped out of my back) about the pathology report.  Yeah, well, it was clear but being the special person I am, that 3 cm tumor when she first saw it April 14 had turned into a 5.9 cm tumor by May 4. Good thing Pia was lobbed off.  Good riddance Pia.   Talk about a true pain in the ass..  Talk about fast growing. Talk about luck. Talk about prayers being answered.  Kind of mind blowing and I did not ask what if… it was not worth it as I knew the answer.  Whew, only b y the grace of God. 

Tomorrow we will travel to the Outer Banks for a wedding of the next generation—4 years to the weekend of the one I missed due to the chemo way back when --and I will celebrate life will my family.  Can’t get much better than that. 

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

1 Corinthians 13:7

Damn shoe....

The first time I got “normally “sick after the first cancer go round, I had a panic attack.  For 10 months I knew who to call when this or that happened.  I was frozen-deer in the headlights frozen.  Took me about 15 minutes to realize that there was no one to call-I was on my own.  That is when I knew that the cancer life was getting further and further away.  Well, until the first 6 month go round that first March.  All the old feelings came back when I walked into all the offices as I had 3 doctors to report to, not to mention a mammogram.  And I waited for the other shoe to drop. 

This happened each and every time I went for my 6 month checkups.  Then last year, 2 checkups and the mammo went to a year and only Dr K remained every 6 months (although he did pass me onto his NP).  And, each time, I waited for the other shoe to drop. 

Then the scare in December.  I was sure the other shoe had dropped.  Nope, it did not, but I still waited for it to.

Fast forward to just a mere 3.5 weeks ago.  Just a normal, routine mammo, visit to Dr N and then 2 days later, Dr Lynn.  I had a feeling that something had changed, but thought it was scar tissue.  And since I was going to Dr Lynn, I was not worried.  Well, until she walked into the room.  Then I knew the other shoe had dropped.   My gut said it was cancer and again, I would be good.  Until I was explained the options, then I realized I had doubts and it might very well go south and it might not end up the way I wanted it to.  

Tomorrow morning at 545am, Mae Ling and I will drive a drive we have driven before, but this time we know what will happen. The plan is set and there are no lymph nodes to surprise us and all will be well.  At 9am—or soon thereafter, depending on the person in front of me, I will again be at Dr Lynn’s mercy (3 times the charm if you ask me. Then again, charm and Dr Lynn in the same sentence is rather alarming.  And all of you who know her are shaking your head laughing.  No straight face on me either).  By noon (I hope), Pia will be history and I will be cancer free and, a 2 time cancer survivor.  Go figure.  Not sure how long the recovery is, but I have heard that I can’t drive for about 2 weeks.  (I did ask the surgeon in the family for advice, but I gave up as he was useless to me and Dr Lynn will be much better in that department.).  To pass the time away while I recover, I will be using up my 5 lives in Candy Crush, sleeping on my clean sheets by Mae Ling, and I have a list of people (who apparently think I drink way more than I do )who have offered to pick me up and take me anywhere.   And of course I have been told to plan a vacation or two or three.  (Advantage number one to having your surgeon talk surgeon to surgeon with your brother and he sees the bad mammogram which leads to the whole I see a bunch of vacations in your future statement).  At least I do not have to wait for that other shoe to drop….