Tuesday, December 2, 2008

The lump looks like fluid -- not cancerous!

I still have an appointment with my breast surgeon on Thursday, but the lump looks non-cancerous. It's probably just lymph fluid and other misc post-surgery goo left over and trapped.

That's what the ultrasound seemed to say, according to the radiologist.

:-)

Monday, December 1, 2008

Chemo 3

Chemo 3 went well.

I've felt good and energetic all day. Took a nap while Delphine and Paul watched a movie at 6pm.

Delphine is sick -- fever, headache and diarrhea. Dr. Wahl (oncologist) tells me viruses aren't really a problem for me. They might feel a bit worse because I might not be as strong as usual, but other than that, I don't need to fear them more than Francois would need to fear them.

I found another lump under my right arm. Could be fat necrosis. Might be a missed cancerous lymph node. All of the swimming and physical therapy finally has the nasty cording and stiff tissue in my armpit down to a size where I could feel around. So I don't know if this has been there since the surgery or just appeared.

So... The cycle starts again. I go to the breast center tomorrow at 1pm for an ultrasound. Then I see my breast surgeon in the next days to discuss what's going on and our treatment options.

I'm not too worried about it. But I'm distracted.

I guess worry entails so many questions with unknown answers -- and now, even though the possible consequences could still be very scary, we know most of the answers to most of our own questions -- Including the BIG 'what if' questions. Francois and I know our answers.

Thank GOD there's only a week left of teaching! I've no more mental or emotional energy for work this week.

OK -- Now for the funny stuff. I messed up on the Emend prescription because I didn't remember to order it early enough and there's a ton of paperwork required by my insurance. So since I thought I might barf up everything tonight, I indulged in junk food -- Pumpkin Spice Latte (Venti size!!) and a big mac and small fries. My taste buds were failing fast. By the time I got to the end of my big mac, all I could taste was salt -- and that was a kind of cold feeling, not a real 'salt' taste.

I figured it wouldn't do too much harm if it all came back up (LOL).

Mint cookies feel cool on my tongue -- but again, no taste.

So taste buds are now officially offline.

And I think I'm going to have to deal with the junk food binge in the old fashioned way -- with exercise!!!

;-)

My head is smooth and beautiful -- but I still have hair on my knee!!!

Eyebrows are thinning somewhat.

:-)

suzy

Monday, November 17, 2008

Cell counts up!! TAC will continue.

My cell counts recovered so well that my oncologist asked if I had had to come in for a transfusion this weekend. No -- so it looks like the Neulasta finally kicked in. AND -- the really good news is that I get to continue on my TAC schedule. I forgot to ask my oncologist for the paper report, so I don't have the stats.

Francois took Paul to his 4-year old check up. I figured the pediatrician's waiting room would be a chemo patient's nightmare. Poor Paul had five shots, but apparently he won't need any more immunizations again until he's 12.

Paul, at 4 years old, is 54 pounds and 45 inches tall. This continues to put him off the charts on height and weight -- The pediatrician feels he's proportional. He's the height, weight and size of the average 6 year old.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Pinker and Perkier!

I spent today doing, well, absolutely NOTHING!

I did play a few rounds of Zingo with Paul.

But I'm feeling perkier tonight. I can empty the dishwasher without resting. I can make the kids' beds without getting dizzy.

And I have PINK in my skin again!

I was trying to research how fast one can recover from low blood cell counts. I can't figure it out. I'm hoping the white cells are recovering as fast as I can feel the red blood cells recovering.

And I'm hoping they find some wierd drug interaction to explain the severe reaction.

It's so funny. I feel like it's expected that I got breast cancer. But I feel betrayed by my body wimping out on the chemo!!

Sugar makes me feel better, although eating is not pleasurable (It's not unpleasurable, but it's just not pleasurable) -- so I've had a couple of bowls of mint ice cream and a few squares of chocolate.

So guess what? The canary is still living!! I can kill off all my blood cells and still have the hair on my knee standing strong.

Go figure.

:-)

Friday, November 14, 2008

Low blood cells counts feel REALLY BAD

Wednesday I started sagging. I didn't have any endurance. Even listening to someone talk for more than five minutes wore me out.

Thursday I drove straight through a red light -- while other traffic was going through!! I could have caused a deadly accident. It's like I was suddenly asleep at the wheel or something. If I carried a couple of bags of groceries from the car up the stairs to the front door, I couldn't make it up the stairs inside the house to the living room. I had to sit down on the bottom step and rest.

Resting a few minutes seemed to give me what I needed and then I would be OK again.

I knew with the crappy feeling I had Thursday night that I'd need to go in and see my oncologist Friday morning.

Fridaty morning the kids try two times to get me out of bed. I finally managed to drag myself to the dining room and sit down. I got Delphine and Paul's breakfast ready, but had to take frequent breaks. At the end, I was so worn out I had to sit down at the table again. I couldn't get up. I managed to get up once to try and start Delphine's lunch, but moving 2 feet to the freezer and opening it completely depleted me.

I decided to just sit at the table and let Francois make Delphine's lunch when he came home.

But sitting there, I started feeling worse -- and worse -- and worse. I knew Francois should be home any minute, so I didn't call 911. But by the time he walked in the door, I was losing consciousness with my head on the table. So he called 911!

And of course, by the time the cute, young firemen appeared, I felt much better. I could stand. They took my blood pressure (80/50) and we promised to go straight to the hospital.

My blood counts are very low -- and my oncologist thinks she is going to have to rethink my whole chemo treatment. She's trying to figure out why I didn't react this way with the first cycle. I *did* take the Neulasta! The nurses were my witnesses.

Maybe it's that magic new anti-nausea drug??

Anyway, now I'm all into shocking you all with my stats. I do love the attention (LOL).

Here are my scores:

White Blood Cell 0.4 K/uL
(Normal is 4.1 - 10.9 K/uL)

Red Blood Cell 2.86 M/uL
(Normal is 4.2 - 6.3)

HCT 27% They give you blood transfusions when you're at 25%
(Normal is 37 - 51%)

Platelets 45,000
(Normal is 140,000 - 440,000)

I'm on day 8 after chemo. Apparently your lowest cell count is usually around day 10. I'm hoping I just tend to process faster and my cell counts will start going up NOW!!

Low blood cell counts feel like the worst flu you've ever had in your life, without the vomiting and with no recordable fever. I FEEL like I should have a 105 degree fever, but I'm still at 98.6

Here's the good news -- Our pantry is STUFFED with delicious Belgian chocolate. Thank you Jerome, Victor and Martin!!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Cars and 4-year olds

The reality of being a mom going through cancer treatment has so far not lived up to my fears. It's absolutely all about the support I float on. Instead of being overwhelmed when I get hit with some fatigue or general chemo crummies, I feel quiet. And quiet is what my children need from this mom.

Boy, do they like the quiet attention.

They talk.

Some of my achi-est days are some of our best days. Delphine talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks ...

Have I mentioned that Delphine likes to talk?

And she doesn't lick her hands anymore.

And she doesn't need to pee every five minutes anymore.

And she doesn't have trouble getting to sleep or staying asleep anymore.

Delphine has been more worried about her mom 'changing' than anything else and she focused on the physical changes that would happen to me. Now that her fears have materialized, she's doing really well.

She still feels some stress. The other day, she asked me a question that required a ten word answer and I launched into a 10 minute discourse of the world-according-to-Suzy. It's enough to send almost anyone sneaking quietly out of the room.

And that's what she did. I told her she I know I can get annoying like that, but she needs to just tell me. Because when she left without telling me, she hurt my feelings.

We've actually had this discussion before -- because, well, I'm incorrigible.

This time she burst into tears.

Paul, ironically, has been more worried about the big traditional things -- death and illness -- and how they might affect him.

He's been worried about his preschool teacher having 'a cancer' (He doesn't. He just wears a bald head as a fashion choice.). He's asked his papa if he was going to die and when. He's asks
his little 3 and 4-year-old friends what their mothers and siblings would do if they died.

Yesterday, he looked at my earrings (Earrings are a new chemo thing for me. I stopped wearing earrings when Delphine became old enough to grab.) and he said "When I grow up, Maman, I'm not going to get pierced ears."

"You don't want pierced ears?"

"No."

"And," he says, "I'm not going to get a cancer either."

"OK" I say.

Canary Updates: Little gnomes have moved in, but there are fewer of them this time around. The canary is getting chapped (Chapped knees!! How funny!), but I've developed a morning sickness like BLECH response to the smell of my lovely body cream, so I'll have to go find another less lovely smelling one. I get suddenly VERY TIRED, but then, boom, a short rest, and I'm better.

We bought a 2007 Grand Caravan!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

My $450 wonder pills

I was pretty tired this weekend, but outside of Friday afternoon, only felt a slight bit under the weather here and there because of my $450 wonder pills. I still couldn't do the lay-on-the-ground physical therapy stretches without feeling seasick though. And I was too tired to go out and look for a minivan.

Emend gives you a free sample for one chemo round. Now I need to find out how much my insurance will cover. I've four more chemo sessions at $450 a session for Emend. That's $1800 just for a bit of weekend comfort.

I think I'd rather get a piano and barf a bit.

Wierd thinking.

It makes me angry for people here in the U.S. who have to make decisions that will impact their health, not just their comfort, because of the lack of a national infrastructure around healthcare.

The first regiment of tiny axe wielding gnomes have moved in. So now I know it's the taxol as well as the neulasta that causes this. I'll have to remember to go get my shot of neulasta tomorrow morning.

I wonder how much 'real' chemo patients drink? You get all of these instructions about keeping fluid intake high -- 2 liters a day! I can barely sip down a liter in one weekend. It's just, well, oogey.

(Note to my French audience -- 'Oogey' as far as I know, is not a word. It's just the right combination of sounds to illustrate what liquid drinks feel like.)

And here's so other odd facts. Egg yolks and leafy plants (spinach, herbs, arugula, etc.) taste like a dirty wet dog smells.

But in general, I feel like I'm getting off too easy. I was relieved to lose most of the rest of my hair this weekend for fear that I might be immune to chemo!

Me and the gnomes are going to bed now.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Feeling GREAT today!

Those drugs are working -- because if it weren't for the slight breathlessness coming up the stairs, I would never know I was on chemo this morning.

Wow!

We're going car shopping today.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Ugh.

I'm feeling sicker.

I thinking tonight might be long.

Chemo 2 FATIGUE (Only 4 more to go!)

Ten days after Delphine's birth, my mom left to go back home to her house. After she left, I laid down in the middle of the living room floor and just listened to the fatique of my body. Willing oneself to move, after moving into that place of rest in the midst of fatigue, is a creaky, pulling, achy expression of will.

Take that same creaky, pulling, achy expression of will and tie that to every physical move you make -- standing from a sitting position, sitting up straight, chewing... When I swallowed small bites of my prune and whole wheat bread sandwich, I fought the desire to just stop swallowing and rest halfway through. Not a healthy choice, I think!! I took a nap -- and even after I was aware of being awake, I just lay there with my eyes closed for awhile because it was too much effort to open them!

But -- the new anti-nausea drug works really well. It's 9:30, I've got 4 out of 5 anti-nausea drugs in me, and I'm just now starting to feel a bit queasy. I took number 5 and sat down a bit. So, here I am.

I have a slight headache.

I'm a bit bloated and puffy.

BUT -- last week was wonderful. I felt better than I have felt since the surgery. I swam every night, conferenced with my students, made dishes for potlucks, celebrated Paul's birthday -- twice!! I still tired easily going up hills and more quickly in workouts than I would have before surgery -- I feel like I'm carrying a 40 lb backpack, even though I slimmed down after surgery. But I feel strong.

And even today, with the fatigue, I have no energy or endurance -- but I feel strong. I picked a sleeping Delphine up and carried her to her bed. She's a good 60 pounds or so.

And now, the next time I'll feel great, will be Thanksgiving. That's going to be very fun.

My next chemo is Monday, December 1st because the day after Thanksgiving is a holiday.

THANK YOU Ramona and Breck for the FABULOUS pot roast today! I'm going to make sure there's some left when I hope to be meat ready Sunday.

p.s. Hair stubble is still falling from the poles and the canary is getting weaker, but still holding on.

p.p.s. My cell counts were good (platelets too!) but I'm slightly anemic -- 34 when 37 is normal, or something like that.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Razor Day!

I had it all (shaved? shaven?) off.

I called my friend Ilona and left a message asking her to come up and shave it for me. But as I left the message, I got that choky-emotional hitch in my voice. So I decided to just go and walk into a hair salon and do it.

The stylist started by trying to convince me there were other options and I didn't have to shave my hair off.

"I came HERE because I do NOT want to discuss my decision making. I can just go now and have a friend do it if you can't handle it." I use my deep, dark, meany voice.

Leave it to me to pick a stylist who is a young mother of a 3 1/3 year old AND who just finished a year of weekly chemo-like treatments for Hepatitis C. Apparently the treatments she went through didn't work and she has to do it all again.

Holy crap.

But when the tears come to both her and her receptionist's eyes as I'm paying the bill, I get a surge of MEAN BREAST CANCER CHEMO WOMAN. I can feel my face settling into that stern don't-fuck-with-me-don't-even-talk-to-me defensive barrier.

I'm not ready to go home.

So I walk around the mall a bit. And then I go to a bakery. And to Starbuck's for a pumpkin spice latte. Then I come home and almost bite my husband when he tries to tell me I look good and wants to kiss me.

Then, I get over it.

We all got over it. Delphine gave a small sigh at the crew cut, but she thinks the hat is OK. Paul still wants hugs.

And I feel really really different -- but I still feel like I know the older looking, powerful, tall, athletic woman looking back at me in the mirror. She's definitely part of me -- and she deserves her turn as the physical representation of self.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Chapped lips

If you're not interested in gory, intimate body details, then stop reading.

The canary tuft of dark hair on my knee is hanging on.

But apparently I picked one tough canary, because the miners up on my scalp are falling fast. It's like watching the gentle start of an incoming snow storm.

I made a small sclupture out of the hair that has fallen on the desk, here, in front of my computer. The hair is rather sticky and naturally wants to weave together, so you can mold it into different forms.

I'll have Ilona shave my head tomorrow, after Delphine's class party. No need to shock the poor girl in front of her classmates.

I did a bit of shaving myself tonight. See, those mucuous membranes that get damaged by chemo? They are causing my mouth and lips to be quite dry. I'm suddenly in need of chapstick every five minutes. The reflux now hits the back of my throat a bit if I eat something too spicy.

The medical staff at the cancer center warned me about that.

But what they didn't warn me about?

Chapped lips.

And I'm not talking about the lips on my face.

I'm not sure if it's because of the chemo, steriods, or instant menopause, but the environment has changed dramatically down south and, well, things are...hmmm...SLICKER.

But chapped in spots.

And that's, uh, not very comfortable.

So when I saw the snow was falling a bit down there as well, I decided it was time to take action.

I do have to admit there's a bit of the mole rat look going on already. There's an eerie erasure of my sexuality. My sexual markers are so blurred out and vague I could be approved by Mattel as a children's toy.

But it's a bit exciting too. This is my final metamorphosis. I'm taking the form of she who will march this thing through to the end.

p.s. My white cell and red cell blood counts were normal yesterday. My platelets were low. So, I'm not anemic or at risk for infection!

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I'm 56.1 years old!!

So yesterday I keep having these squeezy tight chest pains when I run or walk up stairs. For some reason walking up hills doesn't do it to me. I feel better when I drink a huge mug of chicken broth, so I'm theorizing I must not have enough blood and the fluid helps up my blood pressure. I have severe anemia. My heart is starving for oxygen. And yet, my body is feeling impatient -- it wants to go work out.

So I'm thinking, eh, something to ask my oncologist at my appointment today.

But then, at a Campfire leaders' meeting last night, I stand up to sing the "Mmm Hmm I wanna linger" song with everyone and get a wave of chest pain so severe it releases one of those internal "Oh fuck" reactions.

So when I get home I call my oncologist. I babble something about not-wanting-anything-nor-to-see-her-before-our-scheduled-appt-but-the-oh-fuck-chest-pain-is-that-ok-or-what-and-I'm-really-not-worried.

"A bit more than a week into your chemo? It's not your heart Suzy," she says, "Have you ever had reflux? You've got reflux."

I've never had reflux. How FUNNY.

Now that I feel I can eat and drink regularly, I've been trying to tea, fiber and probiotic-yogurt myself off of stool softeners. (I wasn't really planning to share that with everyone, but there it is.)

Yeah. Reflux.

I didn't even have to take a single antacid. I just stopped eating so wierd and, uh, yeah, the 'starving heart' symptoms stopped.

So here's the funny coda. My parents have both had early onset heart problems. Both of them have been told they had reflux when they were really dealing with multiple heart attacks and angina attacks. I comment to Francois "But mom was 56 years old."

So last night I take that 'What's your real age?' test they have on the web? (How to waste time when you don't have a TV.) And this morning they provide me with my results.

I'm 56.1 years old.

Yeah? Well who cares.

I look damn good. :-)

The canary is still healthy. In fact, I can't find a single hair that wants to come out, anywhere.

Monday, October 27, 2008

The canary is still breathing

Knees are still dark and fuzzy.

Hey, I realized I'm actually looking forward to losing all of my hair now. It's, well, the last BIG CHANGE. After that, it will be one long tiring walk through to the end. If I do radiation, that might be interesting enough to write about. But honestly, I'm getting bored with my cancer. My best friend Serena was here one weekend and asking all sorts of questions about upcoming cancer treatments. They were really good questions. Interesting questions. Not only did I not know the answers to her questions... I didn't care! That's pretty big coming from someone as self-absorbed as I am.

I'll probably stop blogging after my hair comes out and I make that whole fashion shift. I'm thinking there will be some funny stories to tell about living as a bald woman.

But then I predict boredom.

Boredom is perfectly fine.

But I don't think I'll blog it.

:-)

Suzy

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Tired Navel-Gazing

I took this glorious long walk on Thursday up to Delphine's school to help out in her class mask making party. It's a good solid 1 1/2 hour hike there. Takes about an hour to get back (downhill).

Friday I woke up feeling, well, wrung out. DeNova and I took eight Campfire girls to a corn maze after work. I felt good. It was great being outside and walking with DeNova. The girls were amazing. They found all of the stamps and earned a tiny pumpkin each.

In a mere ten minutes I cooked up a dinner, fed the kids, applied costume make-up and got them into the car for Boo-Bingo at our swim club. That's, like, my all-time best.

Boo-Bingo ended with some pretty strong cramps (and, uh, embarrassing FARTS) so I grabbed Francois in mid-conversation with our friend Peter, dragged the kids to the car and beat it out of there.

I was WORN OUT Friday evening.

Saturday I woke up feeling, just, lousy tired. An hour later, I felt great! I helped the kids with their pumpkins, made lunches -- and crashed at 1pm for a three hour nap.

I have this wierd cold where I suddenly have tons of symptoms and then, viola, I'm clear.

For awhile I thought I was allergic to this wonderful lotion I've been using to massage my arm and chest. (Thanks Melissa!!) So I stopped the lotion massage -- and my arm tightened up! ARrrrgghhh.

I'm an energy yo-yo. It's like my cell counts go down in spurts and fight their way back up, only to be slammed down again. I have no idea if that is what is really going on, of course. I'm probably just a whuss and using a few tired moments as an excuse to indulge in some navel-gazing.

I feel great. I can't wait to go on a long walk with Ilona tomorrow morning.

Have I mentioned that Diet Coke is the very best tasting drink I can find now?

When I get self-indulgent like this, I like to google cancer sites and read about myself. Seriously. There's no hope for me!!

So tonight for some reason I kept running into 'Survivor Profiles'. These are, well, like the super-athletes of cancer. These are the men, women and children who work full time, manage a young family, develop an interest in competitive ice-skating and write inspirational profiles all while dealing with nasty 12 month chemo treatments for stage III and IV cancers.

I think I'm very happy staring at my hairy knee, thank you. I love being a slacker.

And a big thank you to everyone around me who lets me just be a slacker. My life is very good because of all of you.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Emotional Billiards

Great day today, but long and tiring. Came home VERY TIRED after grading, updating my online site, swimming (YEAH!! I can actually SWIM now! I can do a modified front crawl, a full breaststroke, kick with the kick board, backstroke a bit -- but I tire way too easily.), teaching, conferencing and physical therapy to find... Francois and 3-year-old Paul at the front door.

Francois's car quit on him at BCC while he was picking up Paul. So he and Paul walked home. It's a 1 1/2 hour hike. Paul was tired and hungry. Francois was tired and stressed -- about his car and about his daughter, who was supposed to be delivered to us at 4pm.

Feed kid 1, track down and retrieve kid 2, find tow truck, retrieve car, husband now stuck at cardealership, call home for ride, kid 1 constipated on the toilet, order up neighborhood teenager to babysit pooping child, retrieve husband at dealership, walk teenager home, come home to 100 questions and comments from kid 2, snap at kid 2, kid 2 snaps at kid 1, kid 1 cries unconsolably -- probably because the cat isn't around to kick.

And all this while the friggin telephone is ringing OFF THE HOOK. TWELVE FRIGGIN MESSAGES??!!!

PHONE STRIKE!

Yank cord out of wall.

I'm done.

(But did you hear? I can SWIM now! I can move my arm almost all the way up!)

But I don't want to talk about it.

PPPBBBBLLLFFFSSSTTT.

(That's a big raspberry aimed right at you.)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Gnomes on my bones

Neulasta is a drug I take the Monday after Friday chemo treatments. It's supposed to keep my white blood cell count up. The side effect is bone pain.

The bone pain isn't that bad. But it's irritating.

It feels like very tiny gnomes are walking around on the surface of my bones with itsy-bitsy axes. Every once in awhile they just stop and slam their miniscule axe into the bone they happen to be standing on. Then they go on their way and find another spot. Tiny spots of pain that are constantly on the move.

For the most part, it's not too bad. The facial bones can smart. And then last night a whole group of them decided to have a party among the small bones in my feet.

My right ovary is a battleground. I'm thinking there must be some serious cell killin' going on down there. The microscopic infantrymen fighting it out down there have rifles. They're bloody noisy and messy. It makes for an
interesting mittelschmerz, that's for sure.

I still find I feel better if i keep moving. I've been walking, running, swimming and teaching. That all feels good. But sitting at the computer in longer than five minute spells is a bit uncomfortable. Not bad. Just uncomfortable.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Canary in the Coal Mine

I've plucked a few eyebrow hairs and had one haircut since my surgery, but beyond that I've been living on the wild side. Francois and I decided that the little tuft of dark hair growing out of the top of my kneecap can serve as the canary in the coal mine. I'll keep ya'all posted.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Suzy on Steriods...NOT!!

It turns out that steriods and me are like ADHD kids and ritalin. Friday I came home from chemo completely mellowed out.

See, they give you a steriod and one other anti-nausea medication intravenously before they dump the toxins into you. The steriods are supposed to make you anxious and sleepless, as well as non-nauseous.

I was sleepy by 6pm, asleep by 9pm and barfing at 3am.

I was taking all of my anti-nausea medication -- and on schedule too! I didn't feel that bad. It was, well, rather like having your body feel like it needed to vomit without feeling really very much stomach upset. You know, that achy face feeling that reaches back up your cheeks to your ears ..and then your mouth starts watering? I felt this little pull in the center of my diaphram that said "Don't soil the sheets -- Run NOW!"

After that I felt really good. Really. The tiredness I felt was a bit like watching a really good movie on a TV with a snowy image -- my body feels like it's working fine, but there's a lot of interference. It's a bit abrasive, but not too unpleasant.

My friend Serena, who was going to stay up with me all night and enjoy my steriod ride with me, went walking with me the following morning. My friend Ilona came along as well. Then my family and I went to a pumpkin patch for pumpkin hunting and hayrides. I came home and went to bed at 4:45 pm. I barfed at 10pm, after getting up and spending some time with the kids as they went to bed.

Today, Sunday, it's been even better. I get a bit nauseous if I lay down and try to do my stretching exercises for my arm. But almost any upright activity feels just fine. It's 10:30 and I'm tired like 'had a hard stressful day at work and didn't sleep well'.

My friend Ramona and her family made us this MARVELOUS lasagna. Every single person in my family LOVED that lasagna -- and it's already half gone! (It's a BIG pan of lasagna.) Everyone is a bit relieved to have the first chemo over -- my kids are feeling secure enough to make bets on whether I would be barfing the lasagna back up later tonight.

Well now the hair clock is ticking. I made people take pictures of me this weekend so I'll have some of this pre-bald state documented!

It's hard to believe I'll lose my hair in about ten days. Seems like killing off so many cells would hurt more or something.

OK...I've got to stop now and go knock on wood.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Spirits and Spooks

I went for a run this morning. I run now with the freedom and agility of a child.

When you channel a bit of fear and adrenaline into a strong, easy run -- it's ectasy. Your soul reaches outside the confines of your body -- as I jog, I can taste the cool wet bark on the trees. I can smell things living in the mud. I can hear the joy of the leaves blowing above my head in the wind.

***************************

So I come inside after my run, flushed and happy.

That lasts 30 seconds.

I immediately start patting down my chest and checking for bubbles or odd shapes. Am I swelling anywhere? Is anything leaking? Are there fluid bubbles under the skin anywhere?

After all, I (GASP!!) {{{{{EXERCISED!}}}}}}}

There's a BIG LUMP on my left side, at the bottom of my rib cage!

I make Francois come in and look at it. I make him feel it.

"Well," he says finally, "I guess I can see a difference, your sides are a bit asymmetrical, but maybe that's normal?"

"Let me look at you!" I urge.

He pulls up his shirt and sucks in his gut so I can see his ribs.

Blush.

Sure enough, one side hangs slightly lower than the other and give the impression of slightly poking out.

I've just not SEEN my chest since I was 11 -- and, uh, there's a lot of new unfamiliar territory!!

Geez! What are you all going to do with me??

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Hats and Make Up

I ordered my chemo hats and they arrived a mere two days later. When I tuck my hair all back for the bald effect, they actually still look quite nice. They are nice and soft too, so they should feel good on a freshly bald head.

I've been wearing eye make up for a whole week now. I found some paint by numbers eye shadow. Seriously! The box shows me where to put color 1 on my lid, where to color 2, 3 and 4. Then I dot a bit of eyeliner on to provide an impression of eye lashes.

I don't think I'm worried about being bald for six-seven months. But still, Francois' suggestion tonight that I ask a friend to shave off my hair when 'its time' made my lips curl back involuntarily -- you know, that tight gaggy feeling you get around your throat, eyes and mouth when you're cleaning up someone else's vomit? It felt like such an act would be as much an invasion as wiping my butt for me after a crap.

God! Get a load of me?! What an intense response!

So is my head of hair like some darth vader mask? My reaction brings to mind that scene in Star Wars VI where we get to glimpse the old Darth Vader in his pod, having his mask settled on to his head.

I'm going to have to think about this one a bit.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Brochure Junkie

A vaginal dilator. The American Cancer Society's booklet on sex and women with cancer spends 3 whole whole single-spaced typed pages on how to use it. "A vaginal dilator is a rod or tube, most often made of plastic or rubber..." (p. 43) Is this covered by insurance?? I think I've seen one of these before and it wasn't at the house of someone who'd had cancer! Apparently some women who use Tamoxifen end up needing to use it to treat the side effect of 'reduced vaginal size'.

Honey, I gave vaginal birth to 10 and 11 lb babies. I say BRING ON THE TAMOXIFEN!!

Cool booklet. It covers all kinds of cancer. Did you know you can get cancer of the vulva? (Get out your mirrors girls, this adds a whole new dimension to the monthly self-exam!)

Anyway, I found the sex brochure while I was looking for brochures on how to support your kids when you have cancer.

Those I've found seriously lacking. The storybooks for kids with a parent with cancer are underwhelming as well. The lesson for parents is "Don't hide this from your kids." and the lesson for kids is "It's not your fault and it's OK to feel whatever you're feeling -- just talk to your parents about it."

It's important, but I already knew that stuff.

There's this huge egg-shell dance around the cancer patient. It's understandable -- most of us are sustaining a tenuous equilibrium between undetonated emotional bomb and expressive explosion. No one wants to trip that wire.

The common message from everyone is to be forgiving of yourself. It's OK to be anything you want -- tired, grumpy, manic, active, sad -- and do what you need to do -- vent, exercise, sleep, cry, hide, watch movies...

And that's good advice.

I shared with a colleague at work that the thing I'm most afraid of is the mood swings coming with chemo fatique and the sudden onset of menopause. I told him I was sure I would go off on people.

He told me that was OK. I know he meant that he, and other adults in my life, would be patient and forgiving.

But the thing is, I'm not worried about going off on adults -- frankly, because I've got really great, forgiving, smart, funny people around me who will keep me in perspective.

I'm worried about going off on my kids.

That's not OK.

The sex brochure just gets right at it. You've got it all, complete with diagrams of your sexual organs and new positions to try with your partner. It's absolutely heterocentric in it's examples and pictures, but all kinds of sex are addressed with equal emphasis and detail. It's not shy.

I think what I'm looking for is a booklet on parenting that gets right at it like that.

"During chemo treatment, you might be fucking mean to your kids."

I ordered the kid's book Tickles Tabitha's Cancer-tankerous Mommy

Tabitha's mother is NOT cancer-tankerous. Tabitha's mother is a friggin SAINT. Tabitha's FATHER should have some sense knocked into him.

The story has Tabitha's mother, who is going through chemo, trying to get dinner ready, take care of two young children and manage phone calls and other interruptions. She's getting grumpy and making mad faces at her Tabitha's father -- who is sitting on his butt in front of the TV, asking Tabitha's mother to bring him a beer or something. I think he actually says something patronizing to her like "Oh, is somebody GRUMPY tonight?"

You don't need cancer to want to verbally rip that man a new asshole.

It's the whole noble cancer patient myth that gets in the way.

Why isn't there a book that says "Your mom might say something really mean and hurtful to you because she's tired, overwhelmed and sick. She doesn't mean it. She's probably really sad she said it. Here's what you can do...."

So today I made sure Delphine and I had some time alone. We were walking together to the fair at the local park. Together, we're trying to figure out what the book might look like.

Friday, October 10, 2008

National Coming Out Day

I live as a heterosexual woman and so, when I 'come out' I guess I'm coming out as an 'ally'. But the joy I experience in this new freedom I've been given for identity formation has reminded me that there's a lot more I could share in support of the diverse people who are my friends, colleagues and family members -- because I'm part of that diversity.

So, coming out:

Sexual Orientation: theoretical bisexual

Gender Identity: masculine female/femme male

I have had the dumb luck of never really feeling the need to go outside my relationship with my life-partner for, well, a myriad of things. Part of that dumb luck is linked to the fact he is who he is and I am who I am. That seems to work really well for us. (It helps that he has always been very sexually confident and competent. He's strong and flexible --physically, spiritually, emotionally and intellectually.)

That doesn't mean I don't notice who I'm attracted to -- and that I don't enjoy those attractions -- on a strictly imaginative level.

I'm a theoretical bisexual.

I'm basically attracted to most of the people I work with. I have had the privilege of following my passions professionally. So I'm constantly surrounded by the kind of smart, perceptive, insightful people I find exciting, interesting and attractive. Compellingly attractive.

But every once in awhile, there's that person who pulls at you in a way that reaches down and tugs hard at that core place where admiration, sexuality, personality, and respect intersect.

Not counting my life-partner -- 5 people so far -- two women and three men.

Theoretical bisexual.

********************************************************

My internal gender identity feels so at HOME in this new body. I now LOOK like I FEEL inside.

I've been talking about the whole reconstruction option as if it were a practical matter of pain and inconvenience (It is, to some extent). I've been talking about it as if it were a decision about perceived social roles (It is, to a great extent. Boobs are socially significant.). I have talked about how this decision must be harder for some/other women because their breasts are more a part of their identity --

But I think my attitude has been a bit condescending and flippant. I've congratulated myself somehow for being 'stronger' than women who might care deeply about such an invasion on their selfhood.

Having a key piece of your sexual/gendered body removed should be disturbing. It should feel violent and invasive because it is.

I'm just lucky to be experiencing something that affirms and opens up my sense of self as a masculine female/femme male.

I feel freed. It's a joyful process for me.

And that realization helps me feel a new kind of concern and empathy for women who have to endure this process as a mutilation of their gender identities. For anyone who has to endure social or physical invasive interventions or restrictions that impact sexual or gender identity.

OK, it's hokey, but I feel like ending this with a cheer --

Let's work towards ending the debilitating constriction of selfhoods in our society by supporting National Coming Out Day!!

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Getting it off my chest

I love the social freedom of a flat chest.

Do I really gain any freedom with this flat chest? I've no idea. Heck, I'm so far into my own head that I imagined sucking noises when Dr. H pulled my drainage tubes out.

But here's my perception of my reality.

I can touch my chest without feeling weird. I can touch it anywhere!

I can walk around topless without feeling weird.

I can wear any top I want to and I don't have to worry about whether it will impact how people perceive me sexually.

I can hug men without worrying about either of us becoming aware of my boobs squished between us.

I can bend over and pick things up. I had to squat and reach before. I know that's better for my back, but it's not always easy -- because I have this tight achilles thing going on, I would very often fall backward on my butt in the process.

I can lean over students' desks and look at their work without fear that someone might get a look down my shirt.

And you know what? Both my husband and I think my lingerie still looks great on me.

BIG SMILE.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

It's been a hard day's night -- and I've been workin' like...hmmm...

I'm falling asleep in my chair, while I sit here and type. If this suddenly digresses into a lot of repeating letters and gibberish, you'll know I've nodded off.

Today was GREAT!! Yesterday too. I loved being back at work, getting back in front of the classroom.

I can reach about 3/4 of the way up the whiteboard, so that's not too bad. I don't even think students noticed that I have limited arm movement.

I had my second drainage tube removed yesterday, so I'm feeling very free and mobile. I also had a great session of physical therapy this evening and that loosened me up a bit as well.

My physical therapist asked me if I was tired, since today was my first day back. I told her that I felt like I normally do after a work day -- and that was great!

Then I started thinking about the fact that Francois now does a lot of the things I used to do for the kids and house, I only taught one face-to-face class (when I usually teach three) and I have no committee or governance duties (when I usually have a lot). So uh, I can't even IMAGINE (let alone remember) how people go that fast!! My new slow pace feels so, well, NORMAL!!

There is a lot of pleasure in the kind of complete, whole body, physical tiredness I get with this post-surgery body. It's like sinking into a deep, comfortable sleep after a long, hard day of hiking.

I'm also feeling very full of love. I'll get corny on you all tomorrow -- but I've really enjoyed the hugs, the welcome back's and the genuine concern. What a great community of people to work among.

Time to sleep now.

(Big satisfied smile!)


p.s. Fun detail! I listened for that CSI fleshy sucky sound when Dr. H pulled out my drainage tube yesterday?... Didn't happen. I'm thinking I might have made that up about the first time. Lesson? I need a fact checker. Even with my own five senses (and the extra senses too...)

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Getting too happy and busy to blog!!

I've been slowing down on my blogging because I'm starting to feel free to focus on other things.

I'm starting work again tomorrow! I did a FULL LOAD shopping run! I took the kids to school today and wandered around work saying high and giving out TMI tidbits (like, for example, I can warm my own hands on my chest now that I can't feel anything there! Very useful!)

And with all of this activity, my right drainage tube still stayed below 30 ml. Today that baby is coming OUT!

OK -- here's a VERY funny story. I have this book rep I really like at school. He's been around awhile and knows everybody pretty darn well. So he sees me and he starts talking to me about how hypoallergenic German Shepards are and that he's convinced his wife. He asks me where I think he could find some good dogs.

Hmmmm.... I have a female colleague who is a dog expert. She also has a trim, slim, athletic physique -- and, uh, flatter chest than I used to have...

"You think I'm XXXXX!!" I exclaim.

"Oh!" he stutters, "Oh...I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, no problem. It's the boobs. See? They're gone!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

I never IMAGINED I'd be confused with someone else because of chest size!! How FUNNY!!

I've got a post-op appt with Dr. H today, physical therapy tomorrow and my chemo orientation on Thursday. I need to get some of these facts I'm collecting up here for you all. But gosh, offline life is so FUN right now.

Friday, October 3, 2008

TMI

I have too much to talk about -- and some of it might be gross.

BUT -- I want to try not typing at all until Monday and see if I can't get this right side to slow down on fluid production.

So you all will have to continue to wait until Tuesday for updates.

But a brief synopsis of this week:

What I learned from tube removal (Tuesday) : I've figured out that I was essentially skinned when they took my breasts off and the skin has healed back in some places and is still, well, kind of just sitting free over juicy juicy in other places. (Don't worry, that left side is, uh, feeling 'attached' now, thank you!!)

What I learned from my physical therapist (Wednesday) : Apparently they scrape your chest muscles pretty good to get as much potentially cancerous breast tissue out as possible. That must be why my chest is looking very skinny while the rest of my body is still, uh, comfortably PLUMP!! :-)

What I learned from my radiologist (Thursday) : Radiation targets the lymphatic pathways in your chest wall and armpit in order to chase down and destroy any cancer cells that might just be stuck there in that lymphatic highway system. (I had been wondering what radiation targeted if the tumors and lymph nodes were gone...now I know!)

Lots of discussion to be had on these topics -- too much to get into now.

I'm off with my family to visit my parents down in Eugene OR.

I'm looking great again -- My chest looks really good!! The scars look like they are going to be tiny.

You know what I love doing? I love getting out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist like a guy and walking around the house like that. It feels, I don't know, so liberating. And powerful.

(I can't wait to answer the door like that!)

Right side fluid stats:

Tuesday: 60 ml
Wednesday: 60 ml
Thursday: 75 ml (I was very active yesterday.)

Let's hear it for NO ARM USE until Monday and a 30 ml total by Tuesday.

Monday, September 29, 2008

What a load of crap!!

Ok, uh, you know how systems tend to power down after surgery (even when you don't take painkillers) ? Well, uh, since bounding, bouncy exercise isn't an option right now, I resorted to FIBER as my weapon of choice in this battle.

Lots of fiber.

I mean, really, a literal SHITLOAD of fiber.

And then, well, (blush) with the old powerful antibiotic side effect I think I have, uh, hmmmm... pretty much got that problem SOLVED.

OK. Other news.

Speaking of crap, this cheap keyboard I bought to get me by until tea-fried laptop gets repaired is a PIECE OF IT.

I'm a crappy mother when I get tired and overwhelmed (I actually knew that way before all this cancer stuff, but you might not have known). My particular crappiness really only hurts one child though. Paul is full of crap - so he just shoots it right back at me. Or maybe because he's so socially intuitive, he just knows how to keep things moving in his favor.

My analytical 8-year old daughter is not so lucky.

Yesterday, at dinner? I'm sitting next to her, openly staring at her while she eats.

I've decided dinner is a sport and I'm giving her the play-by-play critique.


"Don't eat so fast. God you'd think you were starving. We're not in a barn you know."

And the worst? The slow dark, disapproving mommy voice:

S-L-O-W D-O-W-N

Followed by a stony lipped glare.

She tries to slow down.

"Why do you bend your head like that into your plate? What is wrong with you? Don't you know how normal people eat?"

She's literally taking her fork and using it as paddle to slide food from her plate into her mouth. I mean, the girl isn't even chewing her meat! If it weren't for the hand and the fork blurring the picture, she'd be able to pass for my parent's dachsund. No, wait, their dacshund is much more delicate. She's more like my sister's lab.

"Here let me show you how to eat. Sit up straight, like this. Lean your head over your plate, but not down. Now bring your fork to your mouth, not your mouth to your fork."

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me.

So now she's piercing pieces of meat with her fork, bringing the meat to her mouth, but being careful to leave the fork outside of her mouth. She grabs the meat with her teeth and kind of does a wierd chin jerk to toss it back into her mouth.

"Why are you eating like that? What do your friends say about the way you eat? Do they think that's normal?! Why can't you put the fork IN your mouth??!!!"

Even crazy maman knows she's gone over at this point. I look at Francois and see he's not too impressed with my daughter badgering either. And I swear, I have to leave the table because I simply CAN'T STAND HOW SHE EATS!!

Whew.

So you might be thinking I'm all guilt ridden and stuff -- but honestly, I'm really very good at forgiving myself. In fact, I think I forgive myself more quickly than my friends and family (pre-cancer, of course) and uh, feeling forgiven before the person who wants to forgive you is ready, well, that can actually kind of rub them the wrong way sometimes.

And I've had to live with these crappy mother moments for, oh, what now -- 8 years?

I just apologize. Somehow, I think that honesty helps us -- and helps Delphine. She needs emotional behavior spelled out. When it comes to emotional perception, Delphine is like a gifted musician with perfect pitch who can't understand people who enjoy Muzak. The social games we play to cover or distort our authentic reactions and emotions don't make sense to her.

I'm like a living lab of human behavior for her, complete with a translation device.

So, I'm brushing her hair and I'm telling her how wrong I am to pick at her. I tell her I am sorry I explain my obsessive feelings. I promise her I'll try not to do it anymore.

We're all happy and close.

So we go back to the living room to watch the movie we were all viewing together. She asks for some apples and caramel. I bring her some.

She starts eating the apples...



but she won't use her front teeth. She puts the apple slice back under her molars to bite them off.



"Are your front teeth sensitive?" I ask her, "Do they tingle when you eat something cold?"



:-P @#$%& (Crap!!)



Today's STATS:

Left Side: GONE!!!
Right Side: 55 ml

(Ooooooohhhh...One more fun detail. When she pulled the tube out, it made that fleshy sucking sound they always use in CSI during the autopsies. Pretty cool. Didn't hurt a bit. If you really want to know what it looked like, I'll post something.)

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Feeling MUCH better -- but food still tastes like, well, NOTHING!!

I was NOT ready to give up that incredible post-op sense of taste. AND -- I think the antibiotics that last a long time are the ones that are affecting my taste and appetite.



Good news!



Left side yesterday: 30 ml!!! And I'm getting even less today.



Right side: 90 ml -- and today is looking lighter as well.

Today:

Left side: 17 ml!!

Right side: 68 mil

I'm not in any pain anymore. I can see see redness at the drainage tube exit site, up to the armpit area -- but I definitely feel things are getting better fast.

I see Dr. Harrington tomorrow at 2pm. I think the left tube will be going out!





And, by the way, I can type again.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

INFECTION!!

Holy SHIT it hurt!! But the antibiotics are working now (I'm on two at the same time ) and I'm starting to feel better.

I think I'm just a pain wimp.

Apparently it's a skin infection starting at the entrance of my damn right drainage tube!

THANK GOD for Peter Youngs and Kristy Middleton, who took Paul and Delphine today. I slept from 10am to 3pm.

On the up side, it's the first time I've *really* felt like a sick person -- so I really really enjoyed the cards from A&H in the mail today! I didn't think my spirits needed lifting, but I felt very buoyed.

Here's what sucks -- the antibiotics take away my appetite and my ability to taste -- that whole post-orgasmic food experience is on hold for while.

sigh.

I'll write more later. My right arm doesn't like this typing stuff right now.

Yesterday's stats:

Left side 40 ml
Right side 105 ml

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Dr. appt stats

Dr. Wahl (my oncologist)

The new information was basically about anti-nausea medication, the need to explore radiation as an option, long term hormone medication and then the long term post-cancer maintenance plan. I've provide the details below, for those interested in specifics.

Dr. Harrington (my surgeon)

Dr. Harrington suspected I might be secretly working out, thereby increasing my fluid output. I promised her that all I've done is go and fetch the newspaper from the driveway. I'm supposed to try not to use my arms so much.

Shoot!! I was enjoying the challenge of reaching the upper shelves in the kitchen.

BUT...she said I could drive! Apparently the restriction is really about pain killers. Since I'm not on them, I'm a free bird!

She took my stitches out-- now I'm walking around the house feeling my chest is suddenly going to peel back ((SPROING)) like an overextended window shade ((phwapphwapphwapphwapphwapphwapphwap))

But I get to keep the drainage tubes until I make that magic 30 ml 24 hour total. She said to make an appointment for two weeks -- and then call when I made the magic number in either tube.

Having Dr. H nag me about my drainage feels a bit like my mother threatening me with a visit to the gynocologist if I 'didn't get my period by age 15'.

My mother's threat worked.

Dr. Harrington said that at the breast center conference discussion of my case that morning (I was DISCUSSED ...How THRILLING!! ...I'm so SPECIAL!) there was some debate about whether I should consider radiation therapy or not. Apparently the usual scenario with stage 2b breast cancer is to not do it. But they were discussing some long term study results that showed a significantly higher long term survival rate for estrogen positive cancers diagnosed in young women like myself when those women had radiation therapy.

Here's the downside. The lymphedema risks increase significantly with radiation therapy, and my risk is pretty high already.

Have I written about lymphedema yet? Lymphedema is when your arm swells up with lymphatic fluid. Once it happens, it's difficult to reverse. It's nasty -- but not fatal.

I like this website best for their information. I'm linking you directly to their prevention page.

http://www.lymphnet.org/lymphedemaFAQs/riskReduction/riskReduction.htm

Anywhoo -- Dr. Wahl will have Dr. Preston (the radiation doctor...radiologist??...)'s office call me and schedule a consultation. I have until February to decide what to do.

So... Dr. Wahl.

You know how stupid you can act when you're in shock and you think everyone else knows how this works better than you do? Well, I was stupid. I called Dr. Wahl's office and asked them for an appt on the same day as my post-op appt with Dr. Harrington. That part is fine.

But Dr. Wahl's receptionist asked me what time my appt with Dr. Harrington was. When I said 3:45, she said she could get me in at 3:20 to see Dr. Wahl.

"Are you sure that will work?" I inquire vaguely.

"You just need a 20 minute appointment, right?"

"I think so."

"So we're good."

Of course, Dr. Wahl had a newly diagnosed patient come in and need some time. Ack! The stress! What idiot WOULDN'T think there might be some delay with a Dr. dealing with so many life and death emotional choices each day!??

I had a NIGHTMARE about this the night before. I dreamnt another Dr. (unkown mousy male generic doctor) kept me too long and made me late for Dr. Wahl. When I finally got to her office, she was all dressed up in her winter coat (??) ready to go home to her little boys.

So, the nurse weighs me (I've lost 12 lbs! 4 through diet and exercise, 4 via mastectomy and 4 just hanging out and trying to be healthy post-surgery.) and takes my vitals.

Then, while Francois and I are waiting in the examining room, I call Dr. Harrington's office to find out if she's running late.

She's not. So we inform the nurse why we have to go...and we skip out on Dr. Wahl!! I felt so bad!!

AND she made time for us when we returned. A lot of time. I was ready to just give her my hoped for chemo dates and run, but she had a whole lesson plan prepared!

So unprepared was I that I was scribbling notes on the back of the little blue appointment note she had given me. I hadn't bothered to get out my calendar or my cancer notebook.

OK. This is Dr. Wahl, mind you. If you are tired of reading this blog entry now, you might as well go take a nap before continuing. This woman packs a lot of information into a small time/space continuum.

Ready?

Anti-Nausea

With the chemo, intravaneously, she'll give me Aloxi, which she called an anti-nausea medication -- but which is also a serotonin inhibitor (read ANTI-DEPRESSANT!) -- and decadron, a steriod. The steriod will make me a bit anxious and hyper.

So, uh, Friday nights, I'll be MANIC.

I'm used to manic.

I can handle manic.

Sounds FUN!

PLUS -- she's prescribed two other anti-nausea medications that I can take as I need, Zofran and Compazine.

Zofran is another serotonin inhibitor. I don't know much about Compazine. I'll have to look it up.

And, I'm not supposed to throw up at all. She doesn't think I need to be nauseous at all.

THAT is the best news ever.

And -- I was just reading online that a patient's anxiety levels impact nausea a great deal. Patients who are very anxious experience worse nausea.

I'm thinking my outlook is pretty good.

Apparently, they want to keep your estrogen levels even lower than post-menopausal levels. I'll be on Tamoxifen until I'm clinically proven to be permanently in menopause. Then I'll switch to another drug. I might be on drugs ten years or more -- even if they 'suppress' my ovaries.

I love that verb.

(Could you supress the barking dog down the street? He's keeping me awake at night!!)

They have this very cool thing going where they invite new patients in for an orientation to chemo room before your first chemo session. The nurses teach you the ins, outs and practical tricks.

So my nurses teaching session is scheduled for 2pm on Thursday, October 9th. My first chemo is from 11:50 - 3:30 pm on Friday, October 17th.

Open Call for Menopause Horror Stories

'Move forward ten years. Do not pass go, do not collect $200'

You get a whole deck of interesting game cards with cancer. But that's the card I have a hard time laughing at.

I've been reading that after chemo and hormone therapy, a woman's body ages about ten years in terms of metabolism and fat/muscle ratios. Add a fast-track into menopause to that.

Good note? I work with a huge group of smart and sexy 50-ish/60-ish types. I can handle being a part of that club.

Bad note? Menopause. Shit.

I just did a hugely hormonal decade of pregnancies and breast-feeding.

My 20s were all about weekend long crying fits on the damn pill.

My 40s, at least my early 40s, were supposed to be a brief period of centeredness and emotional stability!!

So bring them on girlfriends. I need horror stories. When this emotional ship starts hitting those emotional rocks, I want stories of such horror that when I find myself locking bathroom door and running the shower to cover my screams of hormonal frustration, I can remember you and tell myself I'm doing a pretty damn good job at handling it all!!

WARNING: If you are NOT menopausal or post-menopausal, you risk a verbal slap upside the head if you even *try* to participate in this conversation. No cards, no books, no comments from anyone who ain't been there, done that.

Fluid Stats:

Left side: 50 ml
Right side: 130 ml

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Slipping...

Yesterday's totals:

Left -- 55 ml
Right -- 120 ml

Paul crawled in my bed last night. This three-year old's fetish is to push his feet into my side. Before tubes and stitches, I would find the morning imprint of his child foot on my side adorable.

Oops!! 9:20! I've got to go shower and take a nap before some friends from work arrive with lunch for a visit.

So much to do, so little time.... (3 hours!!)

BTW, ....I figured out two of the three things I was wondering about yesterday.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I wonder....

I wonder if I will ever have a bm again.

I wonder where the tubes coming out of my body actually come from?

I wonder how come they don't just pull right out when I accidently catch them on kitchen cabinet door knobs.

Yesterday's fluid stats:

Left Side -- 45 ml (ALMOST THERE!!)
Right Side -- 90 ml (Half of yesterday's total!!)

Remember we're aiming for less than 30 ml on each side.

The flowers, cards, food and gifts are helping to nurture my 8-year old daughter's suspicion that I went and got this cancer on purpose -- just to make her papa "my servant" and to get out of my regular 'maman' duties. I can see where she's coming from. I feel very very good -- so all of this support and attention feels a bit like a vacation. And, uh, (ahem) I have been known to go to great lengths to be the center of attention.

Still, I find her adorable and funny now, but once that chemo puts me in fast-track menopause, she better watch out!! (LOL)

She was very happy to have me brush her hair this morning for school.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Paul's fine!

Paul is fine. No pneumonia. He's got an upper respiratory tract viral infection.

So we're all a bit worn out this morning!

I asked Paul why he screamed so much last night. I asked him if he'd had a bad dream.

"No," he said, "I just didn't want to be sick."

(I wonder if I'll have the strength to scream like that!? Seems like good therapy.)

Paul's off to the ER at Children's Hospital

Poor Paul!!

Paul is on his way to Children's Hospital with Francois. The on call nurse thinks he might have pneumonia.

Paul's been coughing for about a week now. He's been pooping quite a bit more often than usual -- and he's been looking a bit pale. He's been off enough that we ask him each morning whether he wants to go to preschool. He always says yes.

We keep sending him off because he likes it and it's easier for us, especially this week.

Today one of our friends took both our kids for 9 hours! It was a long day for Paul, but he loves going on playdates with Delphine and her friends. He went swimming. He played with lots of kids. He had a great time.

He came home exhausted, but instead of falling asleep, he curled up in a ball on the couch and started moaning. He was clearly in pain, but wouldn't answer my questions as to where it hurt. He seemed to be panting a bit and his cough wouldn't stop now. At 11pm he threw up. He fell asleep for an hour and then woke up screaming bloody murder. He wouldn't stop screaming. I thought someone was trying to kill him. He wouldn't let us look at him. He thought our eyes were scary.

He was clearly feverish now -- and panting openly. His eyes were open and panicked, even after he calmed down and clearly was ready to sleep.

The nurse on call had me count his breaths. He would keep holding his breath. When he did breath regularly for ten seconds, it was in small frequent pants.

So, now Francois will have his first trip to Children's Hospital!

The good news is that our family out of pocket has pretty much already been met this year (LOL).

Poor Paul.

The day had been so mellow with the kids out. I actually got my drainage tubes to turn completely yellow and I decreased my production by 50 ml over yesterday.

Delphine decided my chest actually looked pretty good, even with the stitches still in.

I'm pinking up a little bit, but not too much. There's nothing like a sick child to get your heartbeat up. (Sorry Dr. H!)

I don't know if I can sleep right now. I guess I should try.

I'll update you all when I hear from Francois.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

"A hilarious book." -- Paranormal Romance

Oh GAWD the food my friends have brought me tastes good. I mean, you know, the kind of intense flavor really well prepared food has after you've had a great workout AND great sex.

Wow.

And this ROBE my cousin sent me? I SWEAR my chest can feel again. Luscious inviting layers of soft to sink into.

Hmmmmm...

And the books she sent...

"Undead and Unwed is an irreverently hilarious, superbly entertaining novel of love, lust, and designer shoes. Betsy Taylor is an unrepentant fiend -- about shoes. She is shallow, vain, and immensely entertaining. Her journey from life to death, or the undead, is so amusing I found myself laughing out louwhile reading. Between her human friends, vampire allies, and her undeade enemies, her first week as the newly undeade is never boring." -- Romance Reviews Today

A story of a woman who suffers a bodily death and is reborn a blood sucking sexual predator is, well, PERFECT!!!

"A hilarious book." -- Paranormal Romance

Paranormal Romance?? I've got to google that reviewer.

Paranormal Romance?

Now there's a genre I can get into in this state of mind (LOL).

I've been taking it very very easy today (obviously!) and my drains are finally lightening up. Up to now I've been producing about 440 ml (two drains) of 'bloody serum' in 24 hours and I don't get these things out until I'm under 60.

Bring on the vampires!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Stir Crazy

I was too active today and turned my right drain cherry red again. So even though I feel great, I need to stay still for longer periods of time.

Delphine is tired and weepy. She doesn't want to hear the word 'cancer' anymore.

The food people have given us tastes SOOOO GOOOOOD!

Only one nap today.

Paul says "why do you have those tubes with yellow and pink juice in them Mama?"

"I have them because I had my breasts removed and they are helping me heal."

Paul blushes.

I feel like I'm waiting and waiting and waiting.

Maybe it's time to focus on something else in addition to healing from surgery.

PBBBLLLFFFTT

Focus?

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Beautiful Boobless!

Let's start with the good news -- and then move on to the good news (big smile!)

The pathology results are in and there were no suprises!

Here's the official verdict:


Right Breast

2.7 cm estrogen positive invasive cancer in the right breast
Wide margins (That means the surgeon cut wide around it and there's nothing left on my body)
Medium grade
2 of 18 lymph nodes removed tested positive for the cancer

That's an official stage 2b (almost 2a!) breast cancer. Yeah!!

And now it's gone!

And guess what? Here's more good news -- I look really good with a flat chest. I look taller, younger and slimmer. I could pass for a professional triathlete (uh, with my clothes ON and standing still (LOL))

I have lots to say, but I get tired and dizzy pretty fast, so these notes are going to be short for a few days. That's fun in a way as well -- I feel dizzy and tired enough to allow myself to be pampered -- and I feel good enough to really enjoy it!!

So now it's just healing from this surgery and then chemo. I'm not sure whether they do radiation for a 2b or not.

p.s. 2250 grams -- That's almost 5 lbs off my chest!

I can read!

I can read!

And I can now raise my arms to the second shelf where I keep the water glasses in the kitchen.

Tbe damn drainage tubes keep catching on the knobs on the drawers though and the tug when that happens freaks me out.

I took a shower this morning. It's the first time I've looked at myself without clothes on. The wierdest is looking down. I can see parts of my body that I've never really seen before. It's a whole new view now, let me tell ya!

I tire pretty easily, but not any worse than after having my first child. AND -- when I'm tired, I get to nap! That's a huge difference from that first childbirth experience.

And I'm tired now. Much to say, but sleep is soooooo nice.

zzzzzzz

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Home from the hospital

Things I like --

I like that I had no nausea or pain of any kind after the surgery.

I like that m body feels 'nomral except for the places that are stichted up.

I hate that I can't SEE now!! I can't read what I'm writing here!! I have all of these books to read and I can focue enough to get through them.

Apparently this lasted for 2 weeks with my mother's surgery. I'm hopin 48 hours at the max.

I also love having a flat chest. I can sleep in any position I like!

And despite the stiches in front, It's so much easier to hold my shoulders back, maintain a good posture.

I have the results of my boob weigh in. I'll give you all another day to vote.

I'll write more when my vision comes back. This is a bit like trying to type in the dark!!

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Their Last Day

So what DOES one do the day before a double mastectomy?

I tortured my whole family by spending $800 on organizing type furniture from IKEA. I had them all building and cleaning and sorting and drilling and hanging and stacking and vacuuming!

Delphine said "Maybe it isn't so fun to go to IKEA after all." (Usually she likes the whole playroom and meatball lunch combo). "It's makes too much work for me afterwards!!"

My day wasn't just filled with high energy housekeeping though. I decided to take my babies for a swim. I really don't think they have any clue. They're going to be totally shocked tomorrow. Especially the left boob. That boob really gets the raw deal -- kind of like the Pharoah's servant being buried with the Pharoah. I really did always like the right boob better.

So Francois thinks they are at least five pounds. I think he's nuts. That's a small baby!!

I'm sure they have to weigh them as part of the pathology labs they run on them. Please take a guess and see how close YOU come to the real, dead weight of these puppies. If you make a comment here and record your guess, you can compete for the 'booby prize'.

If you dare....

Saturday, September 13, 2008

The MANIC slide show (LOL)

I can't figure out how to slow the slideshow down. Try clicking on 'View All Images' to navigate your way to a manual version.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Bra Burning

Enrique, Paul's new preschool teacher

"Enrique doesn't have any hair," remarks 3 1/2 year-old Paul, "Maybe he has a cancer."



I tell him that some people just like the way a bald head looks.



"No," says Paul, "I don't think so. I think probably he has a cancer."

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Self-Absorbed??!! Let me tell ya...

Immediately after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I reminded myself daily that every single person was going to be impacted by this differently, they would have their own journey, and their journey might very easily be more difficult than mine.

This person’s reaction is not about me.

This person’s reaction is not about me.

This person’s reaction is not about me.

The incantation formed a magic shield to ward off clumsy… well, what? The verb that comes to my mind is ‘strikes’. And then I have to think ‘strikes at what?’

I think I’ve finally figured out that answer. Every person’s response to my cancer felt like a strike against my potential/real/imagined identity.

Each attempt to share this with me – or worse, to support me through this, was delivered in a contextual frame that mirrored back to me how this person might be perceiving me.

I don’t WANT to be those Suzy’s I see reflected in those mirrors!!!!

I’m irritated at these people trying to support me.

And when I figure that out, I let myself actually *look* at the gifts that I have received so far.

One friend has given me A Long Way Home by Ishmail Beah. My defensive response is – how on EARTH would having cancer make me want to read about how horrible and malicious life can be to some children in our world!? But when I think about this book and the person who gave it to me, I realize that she tends to deal with hard times by reminding herself how lucky she is compared to so many others in this world. Her gift is to share her way of coping.

Another friend has given me The Life of Pi. It’s a reflection of her quiet belief in the truly worldly magic of God and faith.

My mother has just sent me a BIG box of pink M&M’s. Half of the M&M’s have a picture of my head on them. The other half have ‘We love you Suzy’ written on them. A mother’s love needs to be consumed.

You know, honestly, I’m not going to read the books I’ve received so far. I’ve been pawning off the pink Suzy-head M&M’s to my daughter and her friends as fast as I feel I can as a responsible parent.

But I value these gifts now instead of being threatened by them. I can see them as windows into the generous hearts of my friends and family instead of mirrors on me.

I can simply treasure the gift of being allowed to see how special the people around me are.

The lesson reads like a no brainer for most folks I suppose. But I guess I needed to learn it.

....and her elbow.

In the mini-van yesterday with three eight-year old girls:

Belle: Do you know what's going to happen to you mother on Monday?

Delphine: Hmmm?

Belle: I know. I know what's going to happen.

Delphine: Belle, you do not know. You do not know anything about what's going to happen. If you know so much then TELL me.

Belle: First they'll put you mom to sleep. Then they'll cut off her breasts and then they'll put new ones on.

Delphine: No. See? You DON'T know Belle. First they are going to cut off her breasts and then they're going to take part of her elbow off.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

So can she give birth to eggs?

"Guess what! Guess what you guys!" my daughter exclaims, "Like, my mom has cancer, she's almost not going to be a mammal anymore!"

She has Belle and Anya's complete attention.

"She won't have breasts, she won't be able to produce live births, and she won't have any fur. She 'll lose this hair (she points to her head), she'll lose this hair (she points to her eyebrows), she'll lose this hair (she points to her eyelashes.)..."

"So will she be able to give birth to eggs?" asks Anya.



I promise -- if I lay any eggs, I'll be sure and post pictures here!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

No Nasty BRCA Gene!

My OVARIES have been SAVED!!

(For what, exactly, ...I'm not quite sure.)

But I'm definitely happy for my cousin, sister, mother, daughter and possible grandchildren that my genetic results came back normal.

Is there anything genetic going on? Maybe - maybe not. This test can only look for genetic combinations that we already know are linked to breast cancer.

So, like every other 'normal' person on the earth, the future for my female family members is kind of up in the air.

That's a NICE place to be.

Monday, September 8, 2008

What a SCHEDULING MESS!

So tonight I'm googling "Mastectomy Recovery" in a mad ...no, really, the word is INSANE attempt to regain a bit of control over my fall schedule. There's GOT to be a way to SQUEEZE a 3-6 week recovery into 8 days. I'm, honest to God, reading women's discussion board posts to each other about their recoveries thinking if I can find ONE person who had their drainage tubes removed within 5 days and was relatively pain free and MOBILE in the second week... I can make it happen too!!

I'm not finding anyone.

Shit.

I mean, how on EARTH can removing a couple of useless, pathological boobs be harder than a 4th degree tear and a brand new ten pound baby?? I was able to get out and about two days after that.

Sigh.

I know I've got it good. I've got a great, flexible job, great benefits, wonderful colleagues, friends and family.

But, gosh DARNIT -- I had a plan!!!

So -

September 15h

10:30 -- Admission to Overlake Hospital
Noon -- Surgery
5:00 Recovery Room
6:30 Overnight Room

September 16th

11 am Discharged from hospital

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Six Degrees of Separation

On the same day that I had my breast MRI, I also saw a genetic counselor, Mr. Resta.

As he walks across the waiting room to greet me, it's immediately apparent that Mr. Resta can be simultaneously 100% absurd and 100% serious.

He's my kind of guy.

He's asking me to explore issues like, hmmm, how white and protestant IS my family...and is it POSSIBLE that my parents might be cousins?? ( To steal from Stephen Colbert -- the only way to make my birthplace, Medford OR any whiter would be to host the Republican National Convention there. However, the same sundown laws and political clubs like "The Daughters of the Confederacy" that kept Medford white, could possibly have also encouraged cousins to marry... )

I'm also supposed to show him body parts I'm sure no one has ever looked at before (the inside of my bottom lip, the inside of my top lip, the underside of my tongue, etc.) -- and while he's making sure I understand the significance of his questions, he's very good at acknowledging the bizarre side of this whole encounter.

Sitting with him inspires me to randomly associate and tell stories.

Now, those of you who know about my unusually uninhibited ability to share too much information should know that I *did* try to censor myself! I would smile and laugh and Mr. Resta would say "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just keep thinking of funny stories."

"Oh tell me!" he ways, unwittingly.

So, uh, we're going through all of the serious business of genetics and at the same time, sharing things, like, uh, birth stories!

So I'm sharing stories about my childrens' births (tears, scars, number of pushes to arrival...the fun stuff) to this man I've known now for, what, about 35 minutes?

So he shares too. He tells me HIS wife gave birth to one of HIS children in the basement of their friend's house.

This is where I'm supposed to ask "Oh, what happened?!"


(Insert pregnant pause here...OK..sorry, BAD pun)

Instead I ask

"Uh, ....Are you married to Susan Jamieson??!"

(Susan Jamieson is one of my dear colleagues at Bellevue Community College. She is smart, fun, and was part of the large supportive group of people getting me through the new job and the new baby. We swapped birth stories while waiting in line for the copy machine.)

Without missing a beat or even looking up, he says evenly "Yes, I am married to Susan Jamieson."

"I love Susan!" I exclaim.

"So do I." He says.

I keep exclaiming "I work with Susan! How funny!"

I chuckle with disbelief.

"I love Susan!!"

"So do I."

"Wow. This is so funny."

I'm shaking my head.

"Susan is great! I love Susan!"

"So do I."

He's, of course, professionally serious in his response. He assures me he'll keep our encounter confidential. I promptly give him permission to share with Susan -- and I email that permission to Susan along with an announcement to her of my cancer just be be sure there's no ambiguity there.

Seriously, the session was amazingly informative.

Did you know, for example, that before this year, it was possible for health insurance companies to refuse to cover healthy people with proven genetic health risks? That is now forbidden. But it's still possible for life insurance companies and employers to shy away from covering you. As I'm rather screwed on that front by the whole breast cancer diagnosis, it makes the issue moot for me. But should I end up to test positive for one of the known gene combinations linked to breast cancer, others in my family might want to be very careful in their decision to be tested.

I will not, for example, have my kids tested. Ever. That will be up to them to decide when they are adults.

He tells me that based on my history, there's a strong likelihood that there is something genetic going on, even if I test negative for the gene combinations they know to be associated with breast cancer.

If I do test positive, there's a 50% chance my sister has the gene. I think there's a 25% chance my cousin has the gene.

If Delphine does have the gene, they will recommend she begin getting Breast MRI's and Diagnostic Mammograms at age 25. She'll be advised to have her ovaries removed by age 35.

Honestly, I don't think those nasty BRCA gene combos are what I have. But I'm going to be sure. If I'm going to do all of this work to survive breast cancer, I'm not going to get caught unawares by a nasty ovarian cancer. Here's to another 50 years!

So we'll see in about three more weeks. That's how long it takes to get the results back. They have to do $4000 worth of mapping to figure out my gene sequences.

IF, I have any known genetic connection, it will only cost my relatives $400 to get tested, should they wish to do so. It's because the family gene sequence will already be identified, so testing for it will be a lot easier.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Want a boob job? Ask the Breast MRI tech for a referral.

So the tech who is running me through the process of the breast MRI last week? She loves to talk as much as I do. So we're having a good time, chatting it up, telling stories. She finds out I'm not looking to do reconstruction.

"Let me tell you honey, I know a doctor, man, he does WONDERFUL work. His boobs come in here, and bam, they're a mirror of the other boob. You can't tell them apart. Honest to God."

She glances at her own very healthy, vibrant set.

"I'm getting these done again by him in October."

You know, when you think about it, it makes TOTAL sense to go to someone who does breast MRI's to ask about good plastic surgeons.

MRI results?

We found out from Dr. Harrington on Thursday that the MRI actually found a lot of stuff in that nasty right breast. There's a 6cm dense section that looks full of DCIS. There are some small 'nodules' in various places, in addition to the cancer mass and the lymph nodes we already knew about.

So I have this dream the night before visiting Dr. Harrington, that my cancer is actually stage III. In my dream I ask her "So does this mean I have a 50-50 chance?"

"In your case, Suzy, the chances are 40-40."

The story of that dream got Dr. H to laugh out loud.

Even with the nasties found on the MRI, Dr. H still thinks we are probably dealing with a stage 2a or 2b cancer.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

The Book of Boobs

So Dr. Harrington's assistant leads us into her conference room. On the table is a book, with a box of kleenex on top of it.

"Oh! That's a book of boobs and reconstruction!" I exclaim.

I pick up the book of boobs and start browsing through with Francois. He's flinching, grimacing, and looking away from time to time, as if the glare of scarred breasts and stomaches are blinding him.

No tears though.

"I'm tellin' ya, when I googled images of mastectomies and breast reconstruction back in 2007 I drank a whole bottle of wine all by myself!"

The book of boobs kind of confirms what I've been thinking all along. My body is my body. It's just the way it is. It's great the way it is, and I definitely think of myself as attractive, but I don't have any illustions that I'm going to pull off 25 (or even 35) again, with or without boobs.

I remember when I lost a lot of weight after weaning Paul. I was probably the thinnest I've ever been. Clothed, I received plenty of attention from plenty of people - and that was a good time.

But naked....hmmm....

Here's the image. In Jon Stewart's America book, there's a picture of all of the Supreme Court justices naked.

Sandra Day O'Conner.

Look it up.

Let's just say I could look between my legs and see my butt hanging.

OK...TMI?

It gets better.

Francois and I are going through the book looking for boobs and a torso similar to mine. We both agree on which picture seems to match, and, um, I'm telling you folks, naked torso pictures of women over 40, look, like, uh, naked torso pictures of women over 40. There's a bit of that soft fluffy white fat that likes to congregate around your belly button. There's the warm air and gravity effect, you know, where the nipples on the boob get large and soft, causing the breasts to start pointing pretty much straight down.

Now do you think we should save boobs like these?

Or better yet, imagine those 25 year old boobs pasted on this torso with the pasty, puffy belly fat framing it?

We were both like, yeah, GO FLAT CHEST!!

I'm not going to try to make my lovely body into anything it's not. Except, maybe, a massive swimming and running powerhouse ;-)

SO.... BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!!

The boobs have a REPRIEVE!! There was some problem finding an assistant for the surgery on September 8th so the surgery has been moved to September 15th.

Healthy Stuff

The process of dealing with this cancer diagnosis has been really healthy for me and for my family.

Last night, for example, when my daughter whined that she didn't want to talk about what sleeping arrangements would be like after my surgery, I told her she HAD to talk about it. We need to make a decision now, before the surgery, so we can set up the house. It's a family decision and she needs to be a part of it.

She responded really well. She sucked it up and helped us come up with a solution that would work for everyone.

Go Delphine! I'm happy you get a chance to know how strong you are.

Dr. Harrington called and left a positive message about the MRI results. Dr. Anton called just because she cares. She provided me some support for medical decisions I've made.

Penni from HR was wonderful this morning. Tom Nielsen has been great from the beginning.

I've decided to work half-time. I'll teach enough to keep me sane, fulfilled and happy.

So, like, when I'm done with all of this, I'm imagining a film ending, with credits starting to roll. There are so many people I would enter into that list -- and the film, really, has only just begun.

So it's a sappy, sunny, happy day. Not a good one for figuring out truths and commenting on the funny side of breast cancer.

I think I'll go take my boobs for a walk around BCC. It is, after all, their last day on campus.

My pre-op appointment with Dr. Harrington is today at 1:45. I'll let you all know what I learn.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Caillou!

"Mommy, you're going to be just like Caillou!" chirps 3-year old Paul enthusiastically.

He can't wait.

Last time I came back from a doctor visit, Paul remarked, with a small bit of disappointment "I thought you were going to lose your hair at the doctor's office?!"

We took the BC Ferry back from Vancouver Island yesterday -- the one with the marvelous lunch buffet complete with a spectacular view of sea, sun and island shores. BC Ferry terminals are, like, well, AWESOME (make big eyes here), like TOTALLY awesome. While we wait for the Ferry, Paul plays on the playground with Francois while Delphine and I visit the ladie's room and the small open air market.

There's a guy selling sunglasses at half-price. Sunglasses!!

That's it. I'm going for the Jackie Onassis look complete with scarf and a bit of Caillou's rather slow-processing optimism.

Even Delphine, my 8-year old fashion critic, says that I look great in my sunglasses ("with HAIR" she warns me, briefly flashing her stubborn, suspicious, angry eyes -- Delphine would never make a good potato head. She's always worn too many emotions on her face at once.)

The sunglass stand is right next to the 'policemen-biking-for-the-fight-against-cancer-in-Canada' stand. There's a group of 50-year old, incredibly well-built men in bright yellow biking body gloves switching off on a single stationary bike. We're all waiting for a ferry, so, uh, the same people keep walking in circles from the market to the playground to the bathrooms, passing the body-glove men over and over. Each time you pass, they flash you a huge "HI!" as if you're an old dear friend from college they've not seen for 32 years.

I am a cancer dweeb when it comes to running into cancer activists out and about. I have this kind of funny internal smile I try on -- It's like I think I'm supposed to bond with these people somehow 'Hey! Yeah! I've got cancer too! Yeah! Cool." It's exactly like the annoying urge I have to go up to people I hear speaking French and announce to them "Hey! I'm MARRIED to a French man!"

I imagine THEIR internal response is, as my mother would say..."And you're telling me this because....??"

So I'm looking at the $20 sunglasses, on sale for $10. Those are the cheapest. The guy who runs the stand has a good face. He's a good salesman.

I feel like being sold.

He tells me he has these great $40 glasses on sale for $20 which are, apparently, very HOT right now because, wow, man, the Australian Olympic Volleyball Team wore them!

But what sells me is this --

'People can tell that these are cool glasses when you look at them from the side. See how they get narrow right here?'

Everyone will be able to see how cool my originally-40-now-20-dollar sunglasses look because they'll be able to see the sides of them!

I buy the $20 pair and I pay cash. But I'm embarrassed about spending so much money on a pair of sunglasses, so I tell Francois they were $10.

So Delphine tries to rat me out 'They were $20."

I give her my don't-you-dare-rat-me-out-you-brat eyes.

She gives me I-know-I'm-right-and-you-know-it-to0 mother-superior eyes.

Man.

Sheesh.

I love my sunglasses.

So...cancer update? Not much to say. I see a cardiologist tomorrow for an echo-cardiogram. The heart disease history in my family made me nervous when my oncologist told me about the 2-5% chance of heart failure with this chemo treatment - so we're making sure all systems are go first.

Thursday I have a meeting with Penni from Human Resources at work. Then I see my breast surgeon for our pre-surgery consultation.

I need to get in and see my division chair and make plans for my Fall schedule. I've got to make some post surgery appointments with my physical therapist.

I've REALLY got to clean out the fridge, clean the kitchen and clean the carpets.

And, yeah, schedule a really expensive, deluxe haircut. I've been looking forward to wearing short hair again for a long time.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Naked Mole Rats and Trees

We're camping out at Goldstream Provincial Park near Victoria B.C. As I watch a man walk his very large Beagle/Bassett mix down the path, I turn to Francois and say "See, that would be a good dog to have."

"You LIKE that dog?"

"Sure, he's big enough to rough house and play with, but also calm and easy....What kind of dog would you like?"

"I don't like ANY dog. I don't want to OWN a dog."

"Ohhhh.... Come on..... You LIKE dogs..."

"You WANT a dog? OK, don't worry. If you die I'll get Delphine a dog."

"Hey, then, if I have stage III cancer, I get a dog right away!"

I'm really loving this play we have.

But then suddenly Francois becomes a bit over-aware. He flinches and stumbles out apologies. Yeah. OK. I was having fun.

But I still get a dog if I'm stage III. (PPPBBBLLLFFFTTT!!)

So...updates. Hmmmm.... What have I been thinking about?

Naked mole rats.

I started by thinking about wigs and strangers conversing with me about my cancer.

Then I started thinking about eyebrows.

And armpits.

And places that usually itch like Hell if I shave the hair off of them.

And while I seriously believe I'm not going to feel my 'womanhood' threatened by losing my breasts or the hair off my head, ...I am still afraid of the Naked Mole Rat look. What will it feel like to look at this scarred, completely hairless body?

I associate images of abused pre-pubescent girls, death camp survivors and other, confused, weak, identity stripped, victims.

So who am I going to 'be' as I make this journey through chemo? I feel this need to create an image of myself for myself. A sense of who I am, no matter how hairless, scarred or sick I become.

So since I'm camping in a big forest of big trees, I'm thinking I'll take a tree as my symbol -- a place to house my identity as parts of it are shredded by my treatment choices.

A big tree.

A strong tree.

I'll be that tree that leans off a cliff into the space above the sea. It rarely has any leaves, but can endure the constant onslaught of wind and water. And my family will be able to depend on me for support. I can continue to anchor them, to hold them, even if, for the fall and winter seasons, I cannot shield them.

And the (IS there a correct spelling for this?) HOKINESS of what I'm writing warns me that, just in case this whole tree plan doesn't really work, I should get a WHOLE bunch of naked mole rat posters and just paste them all over my office door at work.

Vive le MOLE RAT! Long live the mole rat!!

Maybe Francois would be up for investing in a couple of pet Mole Rats....

I imagine they aren't very cuddly though.

I'd go for the dog. ;-P

Friday, August 22, 2008

Mellow and Happy

Having a sense again of the earth under my feet is a welcome feeling. I'm up with the sunrise this morning, sipping coffee, reading my newspaper and thinking about yesterday. I received a LOT of information from my oncologist and I'll include some of that further down, so if you're not interested in my storytelling (What? You mean MY self absorbed mental meanderings are NOT the highlight of your day??!) you can just skip down to the next entry.

Friday Morning

My snarling intolerance for cancer questions devolved into a slow boiling subconscious simmer of generalized impatience and irritability.

At breakfast Francois asks me some innocuous question about the car or the garbage or whatever and I give him a glare that could freeze boiling water.

"It's nice to have Suzy back!" He jokes.

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" I snap (knowing full well what he means).

Delphine has been working very hard on her summer reading project, sponsored by the King County Library. She's been wanting me to bring her to the library to turn in her work. I needed to get a new battery for my cell phone, so I wanted to stop at Qwest. Since Qwest

(By the way, they do NOT carry batteries for their own cell phones!! I swear somehow I will find a way to punish them for this. They will suffer the vengeance of grouchy cancer woman and feel my pain. Boy will THEY be sorry when I finally decide on a family cell phone plan and I DON'T INCLUDE *THEM* Naa nah naa nah naaaaaa NAA! And here's a big fat raspberry for them: PPPBBLFFFTTSSSPPPFFFT!!!)

Ahem...Since Qwest is located near Taco del Mar and that's my kids' favorite resteraunt, we went there for lunch.

"Mom, do you LIKE having breast cancer?"

Then she gets out her angry eyes.

"Because sometimes you ACT like it."

So I explain to her how the stress effects me. I can get really hyper and overexcited, but then I can also get very grouchy and mean.

"How are you today?"

"I'm feeling pretty grouchy."

"Oh."

"Do you think I'm acting grouchy?"

"No, you're OK."

"Good. I'm trying really hard not to act grouchy."

Still, I just can't bring myself to walk kid slow. It's suddenly some sort of physical impossibility. If I do anything more at kid slow I'll EXPLODE. So I'm marching off in large, fast, long adult legged strides and defiantly refusing to look back for my kids as my poor daughter does some kind of crazy upright skipping side-stroke through the mall trying to keep up with me and simultaneously cajole her 3-year old brother into moving faster with little races and running games.

Thank GOD for parent friends!! The parents of Delphine's friends have literally saved my butt this week. DeNova, Kristy and Tara have been true Godsends. Taking both Paul and Delphine at a moment's notice and juggling them into their already very busy daily schedules has really helped Francois and I out. What a relief to be able to protect those cute kids of mine by simply placing them in their competent hands for a few hours.

So kids go to DeNova. Francois and I get in the car to drive to the CANCER CENTER. The CANCER CENTER is a very short mile from our house. Still, for some reason EVERY F***ING CAR in BELLEVUE needs to be ON THAT ONE MILE at THIS ParTICulAR MoMENT!

"I HATE that car! Why can't that CAR MOVE? Oh, the light is RED. I HATE that LIGHT! Maybe we should go the OTHER way around the block next time. Move OVER Now now NOW NOW or they won't let us in. I am SO GROUCHY. How can you LIVE with me? I can't STAND sitting in this CAR. Park park PARK now THERE THERE I have to get OUT of this CAR and WALK. Boy I need a WORKOUT! Am I BEING HORRIBLE Francois? I'm SO GROUCHY."

"You're fine."

He's genuine in his response. He means I'm not bugging him. I need that. I need to be with someone who knows me so well and has suffered so much at my moods over the last 18 years that this venting stuff really just doesn't faze him.

That's when I start mellowing out. It's a slow, easy descent.

I love you Francois.