New, New, New, New Normals.. Gotta Love Them!

Only me.   Just a mere 4 weeks ago I had a blood draw at Dr K’s office.  He wanted to make sure that my estrogen levels were where they should be—you know, being on that estrogen blocker pill.   The call went like this:

Dr K:  Your estrogen is higher than last year.  You need a bone density test.

Me:  (sighing) of course I do

Dr K:  Someone will call and schedule it and then we have a hard decision to make.

Me: (laughing) Oh no, YOU have a decision to make.  I do what you tell me to do.

Dr K:  exactly

So, I did the bone density and figured I was head towards my 3^rd surgery in a year.  However, he calls and this is how THAT went:

Dr K:  Due to your age etc, chemo induced your so called menopause so you are not exactly through it- which explains why your levels are going up.  We are going to fix this with a shot every 4 weeks for a year and we will retest.   Insurance will cover it, I already checked.

Me: silence… (thinking that must be a hell of an expensive shot if insurance had to be called)

Dr K: you there?

Me:  Seriously, a shot?  That involves a needle.

Dr K:  (sighing) Afternoons work best—Monday and Fridays are not great as there are holidays involved. 

Me: Tuesdays and Thursdays are out so I guess Wednesdays will have to work

Dr K:  Works for me and I will be here if you need me. 

Me: Fine… I really hate needles.

Dr K: I know- see you Wednesday

Which is why, on Wednesday, April 19—in the mist of 3 OTHER Doctor appointments that week in Wilmington, I was standing waiting for Lina to give me said shot- yes, standing, more on that in  a few.  But first, let’s visit Tuesday night, around 1030pm or so, when I smartly decided to Google the side effects of the Lupron shot.  The more I read, the pissier I get and I start talking to myself- loudly.   The talking turns into bitching and whining and just like that I am up in a tizzy and am like hell no; this is NOT going to happen.  Then, as always, the moment passes and reality sets in as I KNOW this is going to happen as the only battles I have ever won with Dr K is the fluid ones.  I went to bed defeated and pondering the size of the needle.  And in case anyone was wondering, I did tell God I owed him at least 7 readings of the prayer of confession on Sunday.  

Back to Lina, standing and the needle.   God answered my prayers and gave me a small needle.  And since it is me, we had a bit of excitement as Lina was getting the needle ready.  There we are talking and all of a sudden, the plastic covering on the needle pops off and ricochets around the room as we are ducking out of the line of fire.  We look at each other and she mentions how that has never, ever happened before.  She then tells me I must be special.  I just started laughing and told her she had no idea, none at all.  That was when she smiled and said drop the drawers… I smiled back and said there is enough there… she smiles and says it is going into your muscle… I said oh, then I need the man treatment… after she stopped laughing she got the numbing spray out and says you have been this route before I see… I replied, why yes, I have and how much longer… she says done and I will see you in 4 weeks.  I worried over nothing.  Well, as far as that needle went.

Side Effects- the reason I was in a tizzy.  After reading the long list of usual side effects, all I can think is—this is like chemo but I get to keep the hair.  Instead of stopping there like a normal human, I continue looking up things.  I come across this sharing of information page- 9 out of 10 women are saying how they gained weight.  Of course they did. Just poke me in the eye with an ice pick.  And that is when I was pushed over the edge. My innards are still fighting for housing so I am still swollen and now I will more than likely gain weight?  Seriously?  Can I just enjoy the tummy tuck for a few weeks?! 

I went to bed the night of the shot and thought this was a cakewalk.  Then I woke up and tried to move.  Well hell, the bone and joint aches were back as was the worst part of chemo—the lower arm aches and the fingers all cramped up.  Not to mention the calf aches.  I was not happy when I ventured on down.  By that time, Mae Ling had looked up the side effects and as I am walking into the room she is mentioning that the side effects are like chemo (gee Mom, this was one time you could have lied and I would have not cared). 

Side effects:

            Hot flashes                                 √

            Bone/joint/muscle aches             √

            Night sweats                              √

            Nausea                                      √

            Insomnia                                    √        

            Swelling of feet and ankles         √

            FATIGUE                                 √

As you can see, there are quite a few, with many more not mentioned, but I figure these are the top ones.  I actually felt that first weekend that I had neuropathy all over again in my feet.  As the days have gone by, aside from the fatigue, most have improved to a more manageable degree.  It has been 2 weeks today and if this is how it goes, I will be fine.  I mean, I have done this before so I know how to handle it and what works and what does not.  There will be lots and lots of 90 minute massages in my future… lots. 

So, on the eve of the one year anniversary of the lobbing off of Pia, this is where I am at.  All is good and I am on this side which was/is the goal.  And best of all, Mae Ling was going to retire, but then, after reading the side effects, she took pity on me and is staying put for a while.  All hail Mae Ling! 

Side note on Mae Ling:  earlier this week I had a 101.8 temperature and while I was thrilled it was a normal illness, Mae Ling had her doubts.  In fact, when I showed her the thermometer at 101.7 she said did you put it under water (apparently I did that as a teen—I thought I used the heater) so I cleared it and it went to 101.8.  She then pulled mother rank and told me I was staying home that night (I was cat/house sitting).  I was not going to argue.  As for the cat, he won big time as I fed him a wee bit more than I should have feeling guilty and all that.   He might or might not have purred—stay away woman and feed me more J

As always, my blessings far outweigh the negatives.  As always, just take it for what it is- information not whining.  You will know when I am whining. Trust me on that. 

When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living.  If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.

Tecumseh

As my life turns...

I’ve been trying to put the whole reconstruction surgery into words for weeks and it was not happening.  Bits and pieces (such as the awful private nurse I had, um Mom what the hell is going on with my belly button and the cut is how long???!!!) are easy.  Yet there are other parts (recovery) which are giving me pause.  But I think this tells the story.   I would like to point out Dr K2 informed me at the last appointment it could be 9 months until normalcy (as if that word will ever be a part of my vocabulary again).  Lovely.  So I bit that bullet and here you go. 

A short recap of said surgery:

·        Hospital from Tuesday until Saturday.  I think I was supposed to stay until Sunday, but after the whole IV coming out in the bathroom at 1230 am and it looking as if I had committed a murder (I have never, ever seen blood so red, not to mention so much in one place) and 5 tries within 5 hours to get another IV in- I was done.  I think it was the crying which sprung me. I was tired of being a test dummy.   **Note: they were wonderful and they took time in between trying.  It just was not part of the plan. And I blame the morphine for the tears (which was so worth the tears).  

·        Speaking of the IV—that pull cord that is in the bathroom—really works.  I pulled it 5 times and I had 4 people in my room in seconds.  Luckily I had great nurses (as always) and the comments where right up my alley.  I kept apologizing and I guess I said it too many times as my nurse told me if I said it one more time she was holding out on the morphine.  Not one peep for hours out of me.

·        Morphine—they give you that little drip thing with the control and you think you have it made.  As if.  I had enough time to actually comprehend it is a very small drip and it did not drip every time you punched it.  Mind games.

·        I had 4 drains.  Sadly, I am a pro at them.  However, this time I had two in my new boob area and two in the belly area.  And they were attached to my binder (girdle thingy) and they were easy as all get out.  I was impressed.  I was also impressed as Dr K2’s nurse Kristin told me they could be there for 4 weeks.  I had one out in a week and the other 3 out in 2.  The only time in my life I was an overachiever (I’ll take it).

A short recap of recovery:

·        Slow and still recovering.  I had no idea it would be like this.  Dr. Nurse Elaine told me rule of thumb for energy is for every hour you are under it takes a month to recover.  She was not kidding.  Some days I have energy and some days I do not. Period. 

·        I went back to working 10 hours and am now up to 32.  Again, some days kill me and some are okay.  The first shift I did on the desk was a Saturday with Gaye.  I was determined to put my own books away.  I do great when I put them on a cart so I can push it around.  Figures it was a kid’s book that did me in that day.   The corner hit the belly.  My knees buckled and the only thing out of my mouth was grunt (yes, even I was impressed).

·        My belly area is still very sore and aches when I am awake.  At first it was like needles but it was the nerves coming back to life.  That feeling is not as bad now, but still there. Of course now it feels tight—as if I need a good burp or fart (don’t worry, it just feels that way).  I still wake myself up when I roll over in bed.  That is fun.  Not.

·        I have been stuck in the Lazy Boy (I am too short to use that; figured that out on day one at home), the couch (too many times to count—still have trouble pushing myself up at times), the bathtub (that was frightening) and the bed.  The best position to sleep in when I first got home was a little bit elevated. For the first 3 nights I arranged my pillows, got into bed and they fell flat and there I was.  I was able to maneuver just enough the first 2 nights.  The 3^rd night, I was over it so I called Mom on the house phone from my cell to help me.  I think she laughed. 

·        I took 2 pain pills each day.  One in the am and one in the pm.  They were heaven.

·        Back to the sore belly.  It is swollen and will be for a while.  Lovely.  Still, it is better than it had been. I hit it from time to time and a grunt comes out.  It’s like when I kept hitting Portia—never hit the area before but now it happens all the time.  Figures. 

A short recap of the things I did not really need to know that I know now and other bits and pieces:

·        That awful private nurse- Billy.  He stayed the first night and Mom told him to act as he was my private nurse.  He slept AND snored the entire night.  I am sure he will deny this and maybe I was too drugged, but every time I looked over he was asleep AND snoring.   He came back a day later and told me I had to eat.  I did not want to but gave in and ordered some fruit, cereal and milk, telling him I would eat most of the cereal dry.  What does he do?!  They bring my tray, he gets out of his chair, opens my cereal, puts it in the bowl, dumps the milk on it and says eat.  I may or may not have said you are a useless idiot and you need to leave.  He was out of there in 5 minutes.  Good thing he is a good doctor as he sucks as a nurse.

·        My motto of “Ignorance is bliss” struck again.  And again, it was a wonderful thing.  Had I known I might have blown the whole surgery off (I did Google it but went back to Candy Crush when I saw it was an 8 hour surgery.  Luckily for me I looked the wrong one up and it was only 4; something I found out the day of surgery).  So I get home and look down and freaked.  My belly button was under my left boob.  Mom calms me down with it will go back into place when the swelling goes down. Whew. Then I looked closer at the belly button itself which was ugly, red, sore and bigger than I remembered. It was like I had a new belly button.  I said as much and Mom gave me what looked to be a very pained look (when I look back I think she was keeping the laughter in) and said “um, it is a new one.” Well crap.  And for the record—it is the last to heal.  And OF COURSE I had an issue with it and had to pack it.  Seriously?!  Dr K2 and one of his nurses Kristin started explaining the packing.  I told them no need, been there done that.  Luckily this did not last as long and was much easier.

·        The cut.  If you do not know, Mae Ling is a quilter which means there are all kinds of tools around, including a tape measure.  She also did a stint in nursing school so she is into medical stuff.  Like when I sat in Dr K2’s examination chair, there she was, behind them looking in awe at my torn and battered body as they admire their handiwork (apparently my new boob is magnificent- but more on that next).  I finally give in and she is actually gloating she gets to measure it.  That cut is from hip to hip and it is 20 inches long.  And that my friends, explains the hell of the past few months.

·        Back to the belly boob.  I thought I was fatter.  Darn thing is smaller than I thought it would be and yes, quite frankly, they do just cut a chunk out of the belly and sew it on. Its’ amusing each time I go back how they say my new boob is magnificent and healing well ( it is rather amazing what they can do).  However, I was pretty ticked off that it was not bigger. Nurse Morgan laughed and said they had to close the stomach area.  Oops, forgot that part.  I had named her Permanent Penny but she is more like Belly Boob. Either way, I have a football shaped boob.  As Dr K (oncologist) noted last week, laughing.

·        Dr Lynn was right and I have to give her that, even if it kills me.  And it will. But when I first mentioned the surgery to her, she told me I would get my right arm back to the way it was before the mastectomy and it would be even better.  I was like no way was she right and I forgot all about that until after the surgery.  And right the good Dr was.   And, it was immediate- as in the hospital immediate. Because the tumor was so large, she had to take most of the skin and it was tight as hell. Add in the radiation and it was a constant pain in the arm and shoulder area. When Dr K2 went in, he cleaned out the radiated area, added skin and voila—I can use my arm again.  That is the biggest blessing of all.

So there you have it.  My surgery in a nutshell.  My new, new, new normal.  I hope and pray that this is IT with the new normals.  Speaking of prayer, thank you for all the prayers, the cards, Jessica for watching over the Angels, Mae Ling (of course) and to Gaye, Helena, Ann and Christina, thank you for never missing a beat, filling in when needed, having my back and just making me thankful I have a great team. 

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

For I know the plans I have for you...

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be sitting here tonight contemplating tomorrow.   I have had 3 surgeries (4 if you count that silly little Pia and her infection and that darn packing) in which I went from extra large , to nice and perky, to slowly shrinking to nothing on the right side , all in 11 years. Go figure.  Who knew that when I had the reduction it would save my life 7 years later?  If I had not had it, I never would have found that pesky little lump.  Which led to the lumpectomy, 5 years and 2 days ago- not that I am counting or anything.  That pesky little Stage 3  lump led to not only the loss of the hair, but to 6.5 weeks of cremation which made Pia the incredible shrinking boob.( Insert surgery number 4 here, I am not reliving that. Well, the morphine was amazing).   Fast forward to May of this year when then the shoe dropped and with it went Pia.  At which point Dr. Lynn took just about all that she could—which was basically all of it ( in her defense, she had to take it all due to that 5.9 cm tumor she had to carve out. You know the one the paid Radiologist missed.  I swear I need to frame that letter).

***Side note here—if anyone ever goes to the good Dr Lynn—you must mention you know me.  She will more than likely roll her eyes, grimace and say shit under her breath.  Extra points are given if you start off by saying… you know, my librarian just happens to know you.   That will start the whole routine going.  Makes me happy just thinking about it. ***    

Which brings me to tonight and the contemplating. I am not a big believer in plastic surgery.  I believe God gave us what he gave us and that is that. Yes, I know there are certain things which need to be done for health reasons, I just have not seen the need for it.  Until the fall of last year when I looked at the mirror and wondered how I ended up this way.  Which is when I knew it was time to become two again.   Am I worried about tomorrow?  To be honest,  I was worried about it when it was last week.  And since I did not really go into why it was postponed, here is the short version. Right before Christmas Dr Kays called and asked if he could switch the time of the surgery to 3pm as there was a seminar in Memphis the day before and he was to present and it happened to be on the machine he will be using on me.  Did not bother me so told him I was good with it.  Which I was, until the week of the preop. That is when I started to feel very uneasy with the actual surgery and was not at all at peace, something I have always, always felt before any surgery. So when I got the call about the weather and possibly changing the surgery, I felt some relief.  And when it was postponed 4 days, I was thrilled and that peace finally found me.  Going back to tomorrow, yes, I am a bit worried about the pain and the recovery time as I really did not have it bad during the others (and yes, bad is relative, but my memory is bad so we will go with the others were not bad and this one might be).  I also dread being bored. If I am drugged, I will sleep and heal. If I am not properly drugged, I will be going stir crazy.   Will I more than likely try to talk him in to letting me go back to work earlier if I am stir crazy?  Most certainly.  However, he is not the good Dr Lynn who is wrapped around my finger, so it will be interesting to see how that goes.  I did promise him 4 weeks out of work so there is that. 

As for the boob, I am looking forward to being able to wear necklaces that stay in place, not go off to the black hole.  It will be nice to have something there.  I get to get a new, new, new normal (personally I am getting rather sick of these new normals).  But at least I am getting a new normal. Not all have that chance. 

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go listen to a voicemail I got back on May 3—it’s John 14:27 and I bet it sounds familiar to some…  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let you hearts be trouble and do not be afraid.  And yes, that voicemail just happens to belong to exactly who you think it does.   I am so very, very blessed!

PS

I just lied.  I do not care about the boob and how a necklace is going to stay in place.  I am all about that tummy tuck.  The boob is a bonus.  I sure hope God does not have another lesson in mind and lets me end up with a flat belly.  I mean, I have earned that sucker. 

PSS

I was able to use the one comeback late last week that I have been dying to make.  Sadly, due to the belly being what it is (at the moment), and I tend to wear over sized shirts, I have been asked numerous times when I was due.  I usually laugh it off and tell them it is just fat and I am too old—which they grasp on to as they usually feel bad. Anyway, the other day I was again asked and I said “well, next week I will be delivering a healthy boob!”   Let’s just say it was a good comeback and I was the only one to get joy out of it.  She was clueless.  And she knew all about the mastectomy.

PSSS

Thank you for all the prayers, calls and texts.  It means more than you will ever know.  

Full Circle

5 years ago today, Betsy and I took a road trip to Raleigh to see Trans Siberian Orchestra, blissfully unaware of how the next 24 hours were about to pan out.  Today, I will start out the same way I did that morning; I will listen to TSO on the way to church where I will teach the angels.  I will bring them donuts, fill out my slip for the gratitude jar and make them suffer through yet another group picture.  I will then continue about my day, getting ready for the week.  Below you will see a few things about Monday, December 5. While it appears my life is basically the same, I can say, without a doubt, it is not and I am a better person because of that pesky little lump.  Let the cancer anniversaries begin!

Monday, December 5, 2011:

·         got up, went to Programming meeting in Jacksonville

·         back to work (old branch!)

·         on to Christian Education meeting

·         back home to watch dogs while Mom had Presbyterian Women’s Circle at 7:00pm

·         found lump at approximately 10:00pm. 

            Monday, December 5, 2016 (the plan):

·          get up, go to Programming meeting in Jacksonville

·          back to work (new branch)

·         bag CE meeting, dinner with friends instead

·         Billy will watch dogs for the Circle meeting at 7:00pm

·          no lump will be found as:

o   a) there is no right boob left to check

o   b) the left was checked last week by Dr. Jones.  Whew.

            Apparently being cancer free for 5 years is a big thing. Something I would have been able to celebrate January 6, 2017.   Of course that was shot straight to hell when Dr Lynn took Pia after that whole “you have a clear mammogram thing “(Yes, I am still a bit bitter. I really need to frame that letter).  So the new goal is May 4, 2021.  Just another date in my long line of dates to remember.   Speaking of dates, I have a rather amusing story to share—and it fits this whole journey like a glove.  A few months ago, I was looking in the mirror at the area formally known as Pia , got pretty pissed off , uttered more than my share of creative wording  and for the first time seriously thought about getting a real one as Penny is a pain in the backside and I hate her.  I really, really hate her. She is too heavy and makes me miserable so I don’t wear her (which is hell on a longer necklace—it hangs and it is like where am I supposed to go?).  Luckily I had an appointment that week with the Queen of all things Boobs—the good Dr Lynn, who explained that due to the fact that not only had radiation killed the area around the area formally known as Pia, she (the good Dr.) had further killed any chance of implants by talking most of the skin when she took Pia due to that 5.9 cm tumor that was non -existent).  She then explained to me the only procedure she felt would be beneficial—the tram.  If you ask me., the tram is pure genius and has to have been created by a woman. In the most simplest of terms… it is a tummy tuck that uses the tummy fat to make a boob.  In addition, they somehow (I did not ask—remember, ignorance is bliss with me) they move vessels around and the new boob is a living body part.  Since I seemed to be interested (um a no brainer here—a 2 for 1 deal), she referred me to another Dr. K.  We shall call him Dr. K2 —who explained it all again and after thinking about it for a day (not really, I just did not want to appear desperate) I called and made an appointment to get it all scheduled.   I meet with Dr. K2 who wanted to make sure I was sure and to set me up with the scheduler.   As she started to talk and schedule, all I could do was nod, say okay and sit there quietly as she gave me my 3 appointment cards.  As soon as I got to the car, I looked at them again and started to cry.  I then started laughing as only me.  The first card was  for the pre-op—which is scheduled for Thursday, December 29 at 9:00am --exactly 5 years to the day and time I was sitting in Dr Lynn’s office as she was telling me that she did not need a biopsy to know it was cancer.  The second card was for surgery, scheduled for Friday, January 6 at 8:00am—yup—you guessed it.  5 years to the day and time of the lumpectomy.  The third card you ask?   That would be for the post- op – Thursday, January 12 at 10:00am—5 years to the day and time of the post-op of the lumpectomy. And there were my signs- in the form of appointment cards. 

So, 5 years from the very day, the very hour of when the cancer was first removed, I will come full circle.  The area formally known as Pia will be in business once again.  Am I nervous? Not as much as I probably should be.  I admit the pain worries me but I have been told I will be properly drugged so not to worry.  Of course Dr Lynn took great pleasure telling (and showing) me how I will be walking for a while. The nurse told me I will have 4 drains and there is a possibility of having them for 4 weeks (oh hell no was my response. She told me I would not have a choice. She must be related to the good Dr.).  My FMLA paperwork has been filed and Dr. K2 has me off work (tentatively, all based on recovery) from January 6- February 20.  While everything is based on recovery, I had to promise Dr. K2 I would take one month off (and yes, I have plenty of sick leave so I am covered).  Mae Ling is gearing up and Billy will be here for at least a week.   I will be in the hospital from 3-5 days and then home sweet home and life will go on once more with a new normal (not to mention a new boob and fingers crossed a flatter belly).   

            As with the previous surgeries, I am good with it all.  And, as with the previous surgeries, I am surrounded by awesome family, friends and staff (who I will owe for the foreseeable future).  And of course I have God yet again on my side. Speaking of God, prayers would be great.  Of course prayers for me for the surgery and recovery to go well (like in dear Lord please do not let it be rejected. That would be embarrassing) and prayers for Mae Ling for taking care of me and Jessica for dealing with the angels and yes, it is a tossup as to who will need more prayers.  

            For the record, one of the first questions I Googled was will the tummy grow back. Unless I eat a small child every day, I am golden.  Whew, thank goodness!

Joshua 1:9

Things are not always as they appear....

This Thursday, August 4, will be three months since Pia flew the coop.  As expected, I have mixed feelings about the whole missing a boob and no treatment thing.  Humor me for a moment I as I focus on the serious aspect of this cancer shit  crap. 

Serious aspect of said cancer shit crap:

I actually have been working on this blog for a while now.  In my mind, there is a very fine line between being informative and just whining.  I have written, rewritten, deleted this so many times my head is spinning.  Yet I keep coming back as I think it is worth sharing.  For the record, I am not whining. 

The other day, I was asked if I was “over my cancer yet?”   I had one of my few and very far between silent attacks and was unable to form an answer befitting the question. I don’t even remember if I replied; I was too busy trying to wrap my brain around what over meant.  As I started to wrap it, the question started to piss me off.   It sounded as if getting over cancer was as easy as getting over a cold or cough.  Really??!!  Here is your answer and I sure wish I had thought of it sooner as the answer is so simple.  No, I am not over my cancer and I doubt I will ever be.  It is always there, lurking in the shadows.  Each and every time you feel something different, you worry.  Every time you take a test, you worry.  Does it get easier?  Yes, it does.  As time goes on, it fades further and further into the background. Then BAM!  You expect certain places to bring it all back—the doctor’s office, the mammogram machine.   But it happens more so with simple, everyday tasks, such as driving past a doctor’s office, finding a card tucked away, having a wig fall on you when looking for a blanket and even visiting someone in the hospital and finding out they are on the 10^th floor.  I can proudly say I now look in the mirror at the area formally known as Pia and instead of saying dammit I miss my boob, I shake my head and usually mutter, you wanted it smaller…so there.  The mind is a funny thing.  One moment you are good with it all and in the next you are shaken to your core.  Go figure.

Now I will tackle that thin line. Physical tolls.  Talk about things that suck.   Some are visible and some are invisible.  The visible is easy.  The boob is gone, never to return and I am good with it.  Of course I have Penny which helps to fill in when she needs to.  For the record, there are days in which she is a pain in the ass.  She is 1.3 pounds—yup I went there—and part of the area formally known as Pia is numb—so a bra is just annoying.  I do my best to wear shirts in which my booblessness is not as noticeable and at this point, I really do not care.  

However, it is the invisible aches and pains which are the hardest to deal with.  I actually feel guilty when I can’t do things I used to be able to do.  Then again, I have accepted the fact that this might be it and I just have to adapt.  Let me explain in a little more detail. First off, radiation shredded my pectoral muscle, so I have been dealing with upper right arm issues on and off for the past 4 years.  Since the first surgery, I have dealt with a searing pain in my right arm pit (sorry, could not figure out a way to describe that one) which can bring me to my knees and tears to my eyes.  Up until the mastectomy, it happened once in a great while but since it has increased dramatically.  Although it just sometimes happens for no reason, I have narrowed some of it down to a few every day normal tasks.  Chopping, cutting and twisting seem to be the worse culprits (I have no problem paying for pecan pieces now or asking a 4 year old to open a water bottle).  And for some reason, for the past few months I have been having lower arm aches with no clue what is causing it, but I am leaning towards the medication I am on.  It is from my elbow to the wrists and if I had not had that plain and boring PET scan, I would be worrying it was something else.  But since it is bilateral (I love that word), no one seems to be too worried at this point, including myself.  Of course I have voiced to a certain good Dr that it is hard to pick up a cup while I am driving and she had the nerve to roll her eyes.  I should have started off with I have issues driving, which is the truth.  At times I feel I am lucky to make it the 45 minute drive to Wilmington.  Very annoying as I am used to just upping and going.  As for the new medication, it is the menopausal version of tamoxifen and for some reason instead of just the side effects just staying the same; they have to get worse before they get better.  This includes the finger cramps which makes playing Candy Crush difficult.  The last, but certainly not the least toll, the fatigue factor.   While I am back to working mostly full time, I am done by the end of the day.  Heck, I am done by 1pm.  I have had people suggest that I exercise and I will feel better.  Um really?!  Not to sound ungrateful for your wonderful suggestion, but it is not that simple.  Mornings are difficult as I move like a 90 year old—I am that stiff and achy.  As for the nights, I am done when I get home.  Done.  But I do appreciate the kindness behind the suggestions.  Please do not take it personally if I ever let the live in my body for a few days comment slip.  Unless you are Billy.  I voiced that loud and clear the other night.  I think he got the point.

And that my friends, ends the looks can be deceiving lesson. 

So here are some fun things just because….

·        I was in the hallway at church and saw a friend I had not seen in awhile.  Since she has the same type of humor, I told her to touch it (Penny). So she does and says how real it feels.  That was when I told her it was the real one. 

·        Penny can be misplaced.  Trust me on this.

·        Someone asked me if I missed my boob.  And was serious.  I asked her if she would miss hers. She said yes.  I said well then, there is your answer.  I might or might not have muttered dumbass.

·        Someone asked me if I was depressed.  I told them I was deflated.  They had no clue.  None at all.  What a waste of a great comeback.

James 1: 1-5

And the winner is.....

Penny.  If you are completely clueless and wonder who Penny is, wonder no more.  She is the fake boob I was gifted with 10 days ago.  She is removable (she rests in strategically placed pocket) and when placed on Rosie’s head looks like a helmet and could be mistaken for a jellyfish.   So far I have not misplaced (lost) her, but I am sure I will at some point.  I did misplace (lose) Scarlett a few times (the favored wig for those not up to speed) but she usually showed up right before I was doomed to put on Lizzie (the one which was just a normal Liza haircut wig—the least favorite).  She even came with her very own carrying case.  And before anyone asks, I have no clue, I just took the bag which was given to me and the case was in there. 

Anyway, Penny was named by Amy—who wisely pointed out I could say “penny for your thoughts”- which is why Heather is now chomping at the bit to go to a bar so I can whip it out and say it to whomever is lucky enough to be sitting next to me.  While it does have a certain appeal to it, I would have to be plastered to do it and I am well past that stage in life. However,  I have been pondering the possibilities Penny has presented and here are the winners. Please feel free to pass along any I may have missed:

·        A penny saved is a penny earned

·        In for a penny, in for a pound (however, she is 1.3 pounds—yes I have checked as she felt like 3 pounds and if she had been I would be whipping her out when it came time to get on the scales at the good Drs. Which I still might do depending upon the nurse.  If it is Ashley—Penny will be whipped)

·        A bad penny always comes back ( good to know if she gets lost)

·        Penny pincher (not a nice thing to do…)

·        Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven ( oh dear lord I hope not)

·        Here is my one cents worth (get it?!)

·        Pennies do not come from Heaven. They have to be earned here on earth (I have so earned this one)

Penny can certainly be a Pia at times. Trying to shove her in that little hole in the new bras I have been gifted is an experience.  Let me rephrase that—they were not gifted to me.  I hit my deductible- imagine that—so they were free, as was Penny.  My insurance generously covers four bras a year and one boob every two (I have added that to my list of things I never thought I would need to know in my life time).   On the positive side, as we all know there is always a positive side, all the shirts I bought while Penniless look so much better with Penny in them!

Psalm 100

4 weeks and counting....

Today marks exactly one month since Pia was lobbed off and my new normal became newer.  Funny how that happens.  One day I am annoying Billy with that whole I am planning my 5-year survival vacation and the next I am annoying him with the his right boob is bigger than mine (that will never grow old J).  

During the last go round, I thought I had seen it all (or most of it all).  Well, that was shot straight to hell when I tried on a bathing suit for the first time.  Let me rewind as it has been an amusing 4 weeks.  For the record, I am a shirt whore.  Seriously, I love shirts like Mae Ling loves shoes.  I tend to go for the ¾ sleeves as I can wear them year round due to the wonderful new building I work in.  In preparation for the removal of Pia, I went shopping and got a few different styles as I was thinking drain and no bra.  Well, I was not impressed and as soon as the drain was out, I decided I need to find a few more Pialess friendly ones. (This is the time when I got stuck in the 2 shirts with some poor soul next to me- never did see her so that was a good thing).  It was then I decided I was not going to shop for a while.  A while lasted less than a week as there were sales.  So yet again I found myself wandering around in Belk and lo and behold, there were bathing suits across from the short peoples section. I hate bathing suits, but I was intrigued and in less than a minute, I had a bathing suit and I was on my way to the dressing room (with a few shirts as a bonus).   For those who are not around me as much as – let’s go with Gaye – I tend to carry on conversations with myself.  So much so that I was talking to Gaye a while back and said “are you listening to me?”  At which point she says “no, I figured you were talking to yourself.” Sadly, this is a conversation we have on a regular basis.  Anyway, I am in the dressing room and commenting that it really is not too bad and the suit and the shirts are working without Pia.  I collet my things, walk out and there is a lady standing there waiting for me with a grin on her face.   I immediately said I was talking loud wasn’t I and she laughs and says which one.  I said right, she said left and we both said between us we had a pair.  Only I could find the dressing room with another lady missing a boob.

Anyway, back to the it’s been a month thing.  Yes, I have been tired and yes I have more than likely, kind of sort of, probably have overdid it once or twice.  While I am healing, the area formally known as Pia continues to be sore and getting comfortable is not as easy as I had hoped.  I worked a whopping 21 hours or so this week and it wore me out.   I can’t do simple things, such as opening can, bottles, reaching for things- such as donuts.  Last Sunday I got donuts for the angels and they wondered why I did not get more Boston Cream.  I had to admit I could not reach them. Luckily they laughed and not one pointed out I should have asked for help.  I can’t use scissors, but that is not a big loss as I am not allowed to cut things at work since I can’t cut a straight line anyway.  All in all, I figure it has been a good month—I have my hair, I have some new shirts and I am on this side of the ground  

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…. 

Whew....

I am at home looking at the most plain and boring PET scan…  Dr Lynn

And with those words, for the first time in 13 days, I took a normal breath.  I really did not want to prove that I could handle being Stage 4.  Besides, with all the prayers I was getting on my behalf, if it had gone south I would have had a hard time placing blame (of course I had my sights on a few , but since we are not walking that walk, I shall keep them to myself J ).  

The plan—well, the one we talked about tonight and will more than likely tweak tomorrow—is a mastectomy Wednesday morning.  I will be gracing the hospital with my presence for at least 1 day but after all it is me, so I am thinking 2 days.  Then I will be sent home to recover.  And have no fear; I questioned pain and what she was going to do about it.  I will get happy pills.  Whew.   The downside at this point, is I have heard I will not be driving for at least 2 weeks.  So Mae Ling has now been upgraded to chauffeur along with her laundry and bed making duties.  All hail Mae Ling!    

After all that is done and over with, I will be on that something I still can’t remember for I have no idea how long pill.  Works for me! 

On a serious note, I truly believe I am where I am because of all the prayers.  I always tell the angels (my Sunday School class of 3^rd-5^th graders for those of you who are new to this) that God always, always answers prayers, but not always the way we want him to.  Today he answered the way we wanted him to and while I am always grateful, today, I am extremely grateful to be a child of God.

The waiting is the hardest part...

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would be waking up praying that later in the day I hope to hear the words “your boob is history”.  Yet here I am, praying I hear just that.  Life is funny like that some times. 

To say that the past 13 days have been an emotional roller coaster would be the understatement of the year.  I just had to be one of the 7% to get a recurrence such as the one I now have. Figures. This whole being special is for the birds I tell you (and to think 7 is my number. Depending on how this all pans out, I might need a new number).   The LAST time I was told I had cancer (never thought I would say that either), I knew without a doubt all would be fine and the cancer would go away.  Not so much this time.   I have had moments of this will work out the way I want it to,  but then that silly nagging feeling it could be Stage 4 which is not a curable thing crosses my mind and then I am totally off balance.     

In my heart I know whatever happens, I will be good and it will be as God wants it to be.  But this whole waiting thing pretty much sucks. I just need/want to know so I can get on with whatever it is I need to get on with.  It is very humbling to be surrounded by so many caring people, near and far.  Yet at times, this go round it has been overwhelming.  While I am thankful and blessed beyond measure for all the care, concern and especially the prayers, there have been a few times I have reached my limit and have stood very close to that edge of losing it.  I would like to offer a word of advice,  be very careful when you say you understand.  It might be best to say I do not understand what you are going through, but I will be there if you need me to be (need to add that to that list of cancer tips I did last October.  However, I think I did.  Might need to reprint those…) There are a very select few who understand and even then things are different. 

The waiting should be over this evening.  As the good Dr has pointed out, she can read a hotspot on a PET scan and she can certainly read a mammogram better than some Radiologists.  Yup, we could be sisters.  Chew on that. There is another one out there just like me!

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3: 5-6

Why do I even bother planning???

Well, my Sunday School lesson was shot straight to hell. I figured we would talk about how God knows us down to the number of hairs on our head and then we would have a photo shoot with the wigs as the angels pondered my soon to be baldness.  That all went out the window with Dr K and his “you are not getting chemo” bombshell.

Because the medical world thrives on scales and blood pressure, I had to suffer both before I saw Dr K.  I took great pride when the poor young assistant looked at my blood pressure and said oh boy. I told her I was a wee bit stressed and not to worry about it.  She thought it was because I was seeing the doctor—I humored her and said, yes, that is it.   And in comes Dr K—saying exactly what I knew he would—hi and I am sorry about this.  Gold star for me!  And yes, I did voice that and then told him I missed him so much in past 2 weeks I just had to see him (he just shook his head in that why is she mine way).   And then he dropped the chemo bombshell.   To say I was shocked would be an understatement.  I mean, I had it all planned out –I found the misplaced wigs, got Kim on board with the shearing , figured out how much I was going to save on hair products and even dreaming about the not having to shave the legs part.  I even was betting on the chemo start date.  I should have known, after all it is me. So Dr K then  outlines the plan for both results of the PET scan—the good (localized) and the bad (distant- that means it has spread – yes I had to have Dr Lynn explain that one) which would be Stage 4 (which is manageable, but not curable).  Either way, no chemo as due to the type of breast cancer I had, it would not be beneficial so why put me through it.   The words are you sure tumbled out and he patiently showed me a study based on my type of cancer.  And there it was in red and blue—no benefit.  His plan is this… if it is localized, Pia is history and I am on something which for the life of me I can’t remember.  If it is the bad one, Pia stays and the tumor will be monitored as to how it responds to the something which for the life of me I can’t remember medicine and this can go on for years (years people, not until Christmas which was bothering me).

I will admit to leaving there in a daze and trying to let it all sink in.  The cinnamon pecan roll from Whole Foods helped and by the time I got to Mayfaire I felt as if a load had been lifted and for the first time in a week, I felt peace.  Everything boils down to Wednesday and the PET scan (no pressure at all here).  While I would love for Pia to be part of the curable group vs. that nasty not curable group, please know that I am good either way.   With that out of the way, anyone want to do a Sunday School lesson for me?  I got donuts… 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled; neither let them be afraid.

John 14:27