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….