I figured any changes to my right breast from radiation
would happen in the first 6 months, as that is the basic recovery time for
radiation treatment. When the initial
six months passed with just some minor changes to my breast I thought to
myself, I could live with this, I think.
Now it seems I notice a new change weekly. As I was getting ready for bed, I yet again
noticed how much smaller, my right breast is from my left breast. It continues to shrink a little more each passing
week. I miss the weight of my
breasts. Evidently, I had super dense
breast tissue, which is why they had such a firm weight to them. Moreover, they still feel so foreign to
me. Even the left breast, which is not
nearly as numb as the right breast, feels strange, like it is no longer a part
of my body. Lefty has small areas of
numbness around the scar tissue from the reduction surgery, and I would think
having more sensation in that breast would help in feeling like she is still a
part of my own body. Alas, not all these
positives about Lefty help. Lefty is a
good cup size or more larger then my poor traumatized right breast.
As I look at them and contemplate the last 18 months, I wonder about all the decisions made along the way. Should I have opted for a mastectomy and forgone radiation treatment? I could have had full reconstruction then, and maybe my breasts would be closer to sisters rather than distant cousins. I would not be missing a chunk of breast tissue that creates the dimple in my left breast giving it a “W” look. I might not have to face a possible lifetime of tenderness and hypersensitivity on my right breast, and the little third boob off to the side, where according to Robert, the plastic surgeon and a million feet of drainage tube curled in there. I would not now be shoving two of the pads that came with my Knix tank bras into the right cup to try to make my breasts look even and prevent Lefty from pulling my tops askew due to the size discrepancy.
All this second guessing and wondering if I have the courage
to face another surgery to try and fix this brings a tear or two (ok, maybe
ten), to my eye. Then my little
self-doubt demon starts running amok in my brain and reaches down to my heart
with little jabs – you will never be in proportion again. You will never lose the weight you so
desperately want to reduce. You will
never feel sexy again. You will never be
brave enough to be intimate with your husband.
Then my self-pity pixie set in, right behind my eyes, and started
pushing those damn tears out.
I fecking survived this betrayal of my body; it turned against me and tried to kill me, why do I still have problems with the battle scars? Why am I having the hardest time reconciling my new shape and being ok with my body the way it looks now? I would think I would have a harder time dealing with my diminished mental abilities. As frustrating as they are, I feel like I accept these new limitations to my ability to multitask, the speed at which I can figure out complex problems as well as my physical speed in tasks with less emotional effort.
I should be celebrating my battle scars. I should be proud that even though my boobs no longer look the same, are different sizes from one another, and one has minimal ability to feel touching sensation that I still have my breasts. I survived this battle, kicked ass in this battle. It tried to take me down, but I survived. Chemo – bring it on, surgery could not completely change the shape of my body, and radiation, sure, you have wrought changes I am not happy with, but I am alive and cancer free. So dammit you stupid demon and pixie, go back to your hidey-holes in my psyche, I am ready to be proud of these damn battle scars. No more feeling disfigured. No more feeling I am unlovable because of my new imperfections. No second-guessing the battle waged. I won, that is all that counts.
I am taking another stand on my road to where ever my new center resides. I am not there yet, but I am finding my strength and will to get me there. I will find my complete inner peace, where I can work with my dragon, demon and pixie in harmony. So we can heal the wounds that are still open, not continue to scrape and rub at them, keeping them raw and weeping.
I fucking beat a badass cancer that thought it had the best
of me; I have the tools to heal from the battle.
The weekend before his birthday, we had family dinner to
celebrate. We included our friend Linda
as her kids live further away from her than ours do, and does not have the same
opportunities to see them. Moreover, we
really like her! Heather, Jose, Joseph
and Winky arrived early so Joseph could have some grandpa time riding bikes and
hitting balls in the back yard. All was
going well until Heather, Linda and I heard Grandpa yell in obvious pain from
the backyard. We all looked at each
other and as I started to rise Heather said she would go.
We did not hear anything from her for a bit, so assumed all
was ok out back. Not so much… Seems Grandpa was showing Joseph how to ride
a wheelie, and when he transitioned from dirt to the cement pad, the bike slid
out from under him. He has degenerative
disc disease, and landing on his tailbone then rolling back, and hitting his
helmeted head did a huge number on his back.
When Heather did not come back in after about 5 minutes, I went to see
what was going on. Robert was up and
trying to walk it off, but I could tell he was in severe pain. He felt the initial jolt from the landing all
the way up his back to his head. Not
good. I went and got him some Aleve and
tried to convince him to get an ice pack on his back right away. He finally conceded the ice pack would
probably be a good thing after about 15 more minutes.
He spent the rest of the afternoon and evening coddling his back. He did request pizza as his birthday dinner, to which Joseph was very excited. Heather brought his favorite dessert – Marie Calendar’s Lemon Cream Cheese Pie. We ate pizza and it was decided that Grandpa should open his gifts before birthday pie so everyone had a chance to digest their pizza a bit.
Jordon, Kelly, Heather, Jose and Joseph all pitched in to get Robert a driving experience at the Porsche Experience Center in Carson. They got him a package that includes 1.5 hours of track time in one of the cars he has always admired.
In addition, Joseph picked out a T-Shirt for Grandpa that
matches a shirt he has, so they can wear them together when they hang out. Joseph also picked out a gift bag covered in
sharks, with red tissue paper to represent the blood from shark bites.
After presents and birthday pie, in which the musical whirl
candle that did not play birthday music much to my chagrin, Jordon and Joseph
found some old wrapping paper tubes I had put aside for playing with, and
proceeded to have a tube sword duel.
Winky in the meantime was having fun trying to shred all the tissue
paper from the gifts. I do not know who
started it first, but both Joseph and Jordon and picked up all the tissue paper
and shoved it under their shirts. Jordon
had all the red tissue paper and Joseph the white. Anytime Joseph connected to Jordon’s body
with his “sword”, Jordon would reach under his shirt and pull out a piece of
red tissue paper to represent blood. At
one point Joseph got him in the face, so he found one of Winky’s shredded
pieces and shoved it in his nose to represent a bloody nose. I was laughing so hard at their antics! Despite Grandpa having hurt his back, it was a
good start to his 55th birthday.
Robert was worried that his back would not heal in time for
our planned trip to Disneyland on Wednesday.
But he rested his back as much as he could, stayed on Aleve and iced his
back for two full days and felt good enough to make the trip to Anaheim so he
could get his birthday button, and of course get some birthday ice cream.
We were not sure how long either of us was going to last, as I had discovered over the course of a month or so that the Klonopin that Dr. R had prescribed for my neuropathy worked great at controlling my symptoms, but was also effecting my cognition. I lost a lot of mental abilities due to chemo; the ability to concentrate longer than a few minutes, short term memory loss, multitasking abilities, as well as not able to do tasks with ease. I spent months working hard to rehabilitate my brain. I regained the ability to do simple multitasking, like watching TV and knitting at the same time. I am slowly gaining back the ease in doing more complex tasks, but they still take my longer to complete than it used to take. I still cannot multitask if I have a difficult process going.
I used to be able to work on an intricate spreadsheet and
answer someone if they asked me a question without skipping a beat. Now I cannot even acknowledge if someone
sneezes if I am engrossed in a difficult or intricate task. I can hear the sneeze, and acknowledge I have
heard it in my brain, but I cannot physically make my lips/mouth move to say
God Bless You. I used to be able to
take a process I had created in Excel and be able to work through the
process/formulas/macros as I explained each step to someone so they could learn
how to use the tool I had created. I
still cannot do that. I have to put
instructions into a document and hand it over. If someone interrupts me while doing a
thought/concentration intensive task I cannot go right back to the task and
pick it back up where I left off. I have
to go back to a beginning step or start over.
I noticed the longer I took the Klonopin the more advances
in my brain function I was losing. Therefore,
I stopped taking the Klonopin. It has a
fairly long ½ life – about 40 hours, so every 40 hours the amount of active drug
in your system decreases by ½. As the
Klonopin was wearing off, the effects it had on my brain were receding, and I
was back to being able to knit and talk or watch TV again. My short term memory, even though it’s still
bad, did improve back to its previous level of bad; and my typing, even though it is not as fast
as it was before chemo, also improved to
my new speed. Granted I find all these
diminished abilities frustrating, so having a drug make them worse is just not
something I am willing to live with. It
still takes me longer to accomplish tasks that I know I could complete in less
time two years ago. As my brain
improved, the neuropathy symptoms returned.
I had hoped that after over a year of healing from chemo, the neuropathy
would have improved. I am not so lucky
there. Within two weeks I was back to
full on neuropathy symptoms I had before we started Gabapentin to try to
relieve some of the irritation and pain.
After a week or so at full neuropathy pain, I took Robert’s
suggestion of taking ½ a tablet a day instead of a whole tablet. I had been doing this for a little over a
week when we made the trip to Disneyland.
Because we didn’t know how long either of us would last at
Disneyland, we opted to forego renting an ECV.
Robert was in no condition to push me in a wheel chair, and if he could
only last two hours renting an ECV for $50 was just not worth it. We walked into Disneyland and the first thing
we did was get Robert his birthday button.
After that we wandered through the park, saw ducklings, which are always
present at this time of year, then headed over to Cal Adventure to get
lunch. Robert wanted to try a new dish that
is now available at one of the restaurants in Paradise Gardens – The Impossible
Meatless Meatball Sandwich. We both
ordered one and found a seat in the covered patio/dining area where we sat for
over an hour while we ate and talked. The
Impossible meatless meat turned out to be excellent. We finally meandered our way around Cal
Adventure and of course found our way to Ghirardelli Chocolate to get that
birthday ice cream Robert had to have.
Again we sat for over an hour. We
ended up staying almost 5 hours, so it was a good day.
The following day, when I took out the trash, that musical
candle started playing the birthday song.
We had a good laugh. I also
received the letter from the Breast Diagnostic Center advising no signs of
cancer in my first mammogram since September of 2017.
Today was my first mammogram since my diagnostic mammogram
18 months ago. I went by myself, telling
Robert that this was just normal screening; I could manage without him. I need to start weaning myself from the dependency
of requiring Robert at every damn doctor appointment. Time for me to make checkups normal. Make a new normal, or figure out what is
normal. Nothing feels normal anymore,
not even a simple doctor appointment or screening tests to insure I am still
whatever this “normal” is.
Anyway, I went by myself, and was doing well, until I had to
walk up to those doors to the Breast Diagnostic Center. That is when my dragon unfurled from the
little ball it curls itself into a niche in my gut, sleeping away peacefully
until moments like this. She unfurled
her wings and stretched out her tail taking my breath to shallow little gulps,
flicking my heart with her tail causing it to beat irregular. I know how to deal with her, pause, take a
deep breath despite her wings trying to squeeze my lungs. I take note of what I am hearing, birds
chirping, construction work sounds, cars, planes. What do I see, the plants in the planters and
landscaping, a butterfly flitting along a small bush plush with flowers, wispy
clouds in the sky. I take note of how
the air feels, and what I smell. My
little dragon is not squeezing my lungs as tightly now, and her tail has
stopped thumping against my heart.
I walk through the doors and sign in, take a seat and wait for the front desk to call me to register for my appointment. I continue with my cleansing breaths every few minutes to keep my little ball of anxiety dragon calmed down. She is still active, swirling slowly through my torso, but she is not making me feel like I need to put my head between my knees so I do not pass out, or breathe into a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating. I tell myself her occasional squeeze is really just her hugging me in comfort. I pull out my knitting to keep my hands busy and my mind slightly occupied.
As I sit and wait on the check in desk to call my name, I notice the men and women sitting in the lobby. You can tell those who are in for their annual mammogram/imaging, and have never had anything come up on their scans. They have a bored look to them, completely at ease with themselves, knowing they will walk back out those doors with another year tucked under their belt and a clean report. They have done their diligence in early detection of an insidious hijacking by their own body, and can spend the next year with confidence that their body will not be betraying them. I envy those women and the ease they project at being in this place. I used to be one of those women with my feelings of all is right in the world when I went through my annual screening. No history of Breast Cancer in my family that I was aware of, I breast fed my children, had them earlier in life, all positive actions that reduce your risk of breast cancer, this was just another screening as part of my Women’s Health Management. I miss those days. I never had a thought for those who looked tense or uneasy. I never thought of all the worries that come into this place with these women. It never once crossed my mind how hard it could be for some to walk through those doors.
Then there are the ones with the nervous glances, the ones you can see holding their breath, holding their middles as if they too have a dragon like mine, and are trying to hold it still. Those with a cloud of worry in their eyes. Some have a partner or friend with them, a few, like me are alone to brave this place, the little room, the machine that will squeeze intimate parts of your body into an unrecognizable shape while corners of this machine dig into other parts of your body so you are at the right angle to capture the best images. You can see the jittery movements of hands, not knowing what to do with them. Some stare at my short purple hair and I see a knowing look in their eyes. Yes, she is one of us. One of the group of women who no longer walk through the doors knowing that everything will be OK and another year can go by in confidence. I am now one of the women who walk through the doors to face demons and dragons, to face our own mortality and the fear of the unknown.
I get through the registration for my appointment. Since this is my first mammogram since chemo,
three surgeries and radiation, they need a new baseline and this will be a
diagnostic mammogram. The nurse at the
registration desk gave me the sheet of paper with my history and any relevant
information for me to review and give to the tech. I correct a few items and add some
information that is missing, and shortly after the tech comes to the door that
leads to the back part of the center, where all the imaging, biopsies, and
surgery prep procedures are completed.
She leads me to a small room and provides me with the
instructions on what to remove and how to wear the gown she has provided. She pulls the curtain to separate me from the
rest of the room as she continues to talk to me as I change. She told me she has been looking at my last
set of images that led to the biopsy and diagnosis. She makes a comment that the mass was quite
large and asks me how long I had felt it before getting it imaged. I explained to her that I felt it for the
first time just a couple weeks before the biopsy. She asks me how I am feeling after the
lumpectomy, and after a slight pause where I can tell she is reading my file,
she adds in the reshaping of the right breast and reduction of my left
breast. I explain about the seroma, how
it burst though the incision, the months of shoving gauze into my breast, and
finally how it would not heal completely, which led to a third surgery to close
up the remaining area.
I also told her that the mammogram and ultrasound imaging only caught
about half the mass, the MRI that was completed the day of my diagnosis, came
back with a mass almost twice as large as what was measured in the original
imagining.
She then asks me how everything feels now. I explain I still have some numbness on the left breast around the incision areas for the reduction. The right breast is numb in more areas then where I can feel due to the extensive surgeries and sentinel lymph node removal. I also make the comment that I still do not understand how I can be so numb on the right side and yet experience tenderness and hypersensitivity. The Tech explained that due to how much trauma the breast sustained she could not tell me that any of my tenderness, sensitivity and numbness would fade over time. I had changed into the gown by this point and had pulled back the curtain. I looked at her and said, “Well aren’t you full of good news.”
I noticed she still had my last set of digital films up on her screen, so asked her if I could look. She was completely open to letting me see the images. I could clearly see the lump in my right breast. It was white compared to black, gray and grayish white of the rest of my breast tissue. The mass was not clear edged, had little strings of white fading into the surrounding tissue from the large white center of the clearest part of the mass. It took up quite a bit of the lower portion of my beast from the imaging I could see. As I looked at those images, my thoughts were “Ha, I was stronger than you this time. You are gone, and I am still here.”
We proceeded with positioning me for the first round of x-rays, and even though the tech moved the plates slowly to clamp down, flatten and capture as much of my breast tissue as possible, my right breast tenderness was evident from the very first position. I had six different angles taken of each breast in all. After the first four sets, the tech went to consult with the radiologist to be sure she was happy with all the images completed. I asked her if I could look at the current images while I waited. Sure, no problem. This is so different from all my previous mammograms, when I had asked if I could see the images, the techs always denied my requests. I could see the scar tissue in each breast. There was a great deal more scar tissue in the right breast than the left. The scar tissue was very white, and had hard edges compared to the original images from 18 months ago. Some of the edges looked furled and bumpy, but even with those distortions the edges showed clear definition.
The tech returned and said the radiologist wanted two more image angles of each breast and if those came out clear, I would be able to leave. These two angles were the least comfortable and at one point, a corner of the table that holds the bottom plate in place was digging into my armpit. In the less than one minute it took to complete this image, my whole right arm started to tingle.
We completed the x-rays, the tech quickly checked with the
radiologist to make sure she was good with the preliminary review. She returned in moments and said I could get
dressed and the final report would be sent to both my oncologist and primary
care doctor, as well as a note mailed to me with the findings. I took this as a good sign. No rushing me off to ultrasound for more
imaging. I am good.
My right breast continued to ache for the remainder of the
day and through the night. Now I know I
need to take some sort of anti-inflammatory prior to my next mammogram.
The last week of April I, need to get some blood work done, in preparation for my next follow up with Dr. Sikaria (oncologist), the first week of May.
No parade for my birthday, but I did see the castle with “snow”
I know it has been months.
I have been busy, and there have been some things I was not ready to
face in writing. I am fine! We celebrated my birthday at Disneyland, and
I enjoyed every moment. We rented a
wheel chair for my birthday trip rather than use the ECV. Robert and I had so much fun just being there
I forgot to get my birthday button!
I also decided it was time to remove the TCST reminder from
the bathroom mirror. Remember way back
at the beginning of all this, my wonderful spouse surprised me one day with the
big take away words from the first Oncologist we met with when we received my
diagnosis – Treatable, Curable, Survivable, and Temporary, TCST. He had purchased pink decal letters and
spelled those words out on the bathroom mirror so I would see them every day as
a reminder while I was going through treatment.
It was time for them to come off, for me to move on from being the
patient to being a survivor. Once they
were removed, I felt another little weight that had been hanging around my neck
float away.
I noticed that as I slowly moved away from the fear and anxiety of this serious diagnosis and treatment plan, and worked towards loving myself again and having joy back, the lighter my heart felt. I perceived with each little step forward less tension in my back, that squeezes around my sides and restricts my breathing. It was also getting easier to take those small little steps back into the light. Still not 100%, but getting ever so closer to feeling like I am whole again, at peace with myself.
We went up north to celebrate Chanukah with my family, and because my cousin was not feeling well, I was put in charge of the kitchen. I wondered how she managed the last Chanukah and Passover without me there. She is always breaking something or having a surgery to fix something that did not heal correctly and it seems like she needs to be off her feet, so I am in charge of making sure everyone gets their dishes out on time and any specialty foods are prepared to our exacting requirements. Moreover, by our, I mean Deda and my preferences. We have worked over the years to perfect the Latke recipe, and I have worked to make Noodle Kugel to our liking not only for Chanukah, but kosher for Passover too. Do not get me on how many years I have experimented with different recipes of kosher for Passover fluffy light Matzo Balls!
So there I was with my neuropathic feet and hands, directing
the cousins and kids on the art of making our crispy on the outside, creamy on
the inside shredded Latke. I made sure I
took time to go rest my feet at well, between the prepping, mixing and cooking
of all the Latke. And making sure everyone else was coordinating
the use of the oven and microwave accordingly to get dishes out on the buffet
timely without going cold. At one point,
we blew a fuse, so I went to ask Deda where the breaker box was so I could trip
the breaker while the “Kids” moved the electric skillets around in the kitchen
so we would not have a repeat of overloading that circuit. Deda had been ensconced on the sofa, cuddled
in a blanket trying to keep her germy, virusy self away from everyone
else. When I told her what I needed she
started to explain where I could find the breaker box and gave up, as she just
knew she could not explain adequately so I could locate. I headed down the hall to the garage as she
heaved herself up out of the sofa and made her way to the hallway. I am a good 25+ feet away when she makes the
step up from the family room to the hallway and promptly kicks the corner of
the wall at the edge of a 6 foot wide (maybe more) stairway. I heard the crack of her little toe, and
cringed. I asked her if that was her toe,
as I slowly turn to see her bent over, holding the offended toe, trying to not
yell “Ow, ow, ow, FUCK, ow!” Yes, she
broke it. Told you she breaks things!
As she hobbled to the garage to trip the breaker, I went to the freezer and made up an ice pack for her. She had an Expo the following week, and there is not much you can do for broken toes, except try to stay off them.
Relaxing with the sick one
Nane Wisnia would be so proud
I went back to work too!
Part time, started out at four hours a day. When I had met with my boss and HR, we were
thinking 10am to 2pm, but when I checked in with them before the week I started
back in December, they asked if I could work Noon to 4pm instead. That would provide the needed help in the
afternoons to get ready for the 2nd shift and review of empty
shipping containers that needed to go back to the ports. Yeah, I could work with that. First week back and I did ok. Up to this point, I was feeling really tired
from the effects of the Gabapentin; but I was still working with Dr. R on that
aspect.
Work is not all bad…
Work is not all bad…
The weekend after our trip up north for Chanukah, our
wonderful neighbors told us they were once again hosting a Christmas Party, and
for the first time in years, we would be able to attend since we would not be
out of town for Chanukah. On the
appointed day, I took it easy. Robert
started getting antsy about 4pm, telling me to stop taking things I was done
with out to the garage, to not take out the garbage, to just sit and
relax. When I would push back and tell
him I was fine, he kept reminding me we were going to the party and I would
probably be on my feet a lot, I needed to rest.
At one point, he was even pushing for me to take a nap. Something was up, but I could not figure out
what was wrong. As he was getting ready,
(he had just exited the bathroom after taking a shower), there was a knock at
the door. Low and behold, there were my
parents (Dad and Mom#2). I gave them a
look like “what are you doing here”. We
had just seen them the week before when we went up for Chanukah. My first thought was they had come down to
visit friends and were early so they needed a place to crash. I opened the door wider for them as my Dad
gave Mom#2 a look and mumbled something about not reading the invitation
correctly. I apologized for the look of
my house, I was being partially lazy all day in preps for the party at the
neighbor’s house shortly and then the guilty look on my mom’s face really took
over. OMG that is why Robert was now
cursing in our bedroom, my parents made the “good neighbors” list and them
being invited to Bob and Moses’ Holiday party was a surprise for me! Mom made me swear to act surprised when I
walked in and they made their way across the street. How sweet!
I went to get ready and asked Robert if my parents were the
surprise he was trying to hide and why he kept telling me I could not take out
my trash or go to the garage earlier. He
said, yes, that was the surprise he was trying to hide from me in case they
parked their car where I would notice. He
has been talking about replacing his car for almost a year now, and doesn’t
know what he wants, so I was thinking he had finally made a decision and was
hiding his new car in Bob and Moses’ driveway!
They have so many I would not notice if there were a new car there or
not quite frankly. I was wondering why
he felt he needed to keep it such a secret.
However, that is how my mind works.
We finished getting ready, and Robert said we should head
over. Moses was waiting for us at the
front door and said everyone had gathered out back, but he was waiting for his
sister. We headed out back and SURPRISE;
it was not Bob and Moses’ Holiday Party, but a surprise late birthday
party/done with cancer party for me! Not
only were my Dad and Mom#2 there, but my Mom, brother Rob, nephew Kevin, cousin
Deda, Heather, Joseph, Jordon and Kelly, some of the close neighbors (as I had
been promised for the Holiday party), as well as my Breast Cancer Support
Group! I was totally blown away! The kids supplied all the food and drink, while
Bob and Moses supplied the venue AND a photo booth.
I got to keep a copy of all pictures taken at the photo
booth. We had so much fun with
that. Remember when I mentioned that my
cousin manages to break something all the time?
Well she and my son Jordon were playing with props and posing in the
photo booth. Deda decided to remove her
glasses, and Jordon, decided to whip a boa he had around his neck back, which
managed to whack Deda in the eye. All of
this was caught in the three-photo strip produced by the magic photo
machine. I laughed so hard! Yup, she tried to break her eye…. LOL.
They won for the best photo strip produced that night.
I had a great time at this surprise party, and reminded yet
again how lucky I am to have such a wonderful family and friends.
We hosted Robert’s cousins, aunt, and his mom and stepdad for Christmas Eve, with all the usual food and fun. As has become the custom, the cousins brought me a gift of my favorite whiskey – Midleton Very Rare Irish Whiskey. This is a delicious sipping whiskey with a wonderful citrusy finish that pairs wonderfully with chocolate! It is also very expensive. Imagine my delight to see this wonderful gift yet again. After about a year of not being able to drink wine, beer or my whiskey, I am sure you can just begin to imagine how excited I was to be able to enjoy this fine sipping whiskey yet again.
Christmas day the kids all come over, I make beignets, and set out fruit and cheese for noshing, and we open gifts. This year Robert had finally cleared out the back section of our back yard and started making the BMX track for Joseph to ride on that he had been promising. Not everything they had discussed was built, but there were enough berms and a large tabletop in place they could ride back there with ease. Great Grandpa Hassing and Great Grandma Sue gave Joseph riding gear for Christmas, while we supplied a bike to keep here, along with a helmet, all in his favorite color green. Then Grandpa surprised Joseph by coming out on a bike himself so they could ride together. The kid was in heaven, so happy to be able to ride out back in his own special riding area.
The New Year found us once again up north with my parents celebrating the holidays with them. We took a day to go exploring with my brother Rob and nephew Kevin. We headed to the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge to check out the scenery, do a little hiking, and ended up on Rodeo Beach where Kevin built a stacked sculpture from items found on the beach. We all had a great day being outdoors and spending time together. Good food while we were up there, wonderful conversations, and a relaxing time spent with all of them before we headed back home and back to work.
We also now have a grandkitty. A small kitten was found in a dumpster with an infection in her left eye socket and starving. Heather agreed to foster the kitten while they had her on antibiotics to clear up the infection and to see if she even had an eye in the socket. The vet Heather works for didn’t think she had an eye, but it was hard to say for sure due to the massive infection. She still needed to be bottle fed for a bit before she could be weaned to kitten food. Heather, Jose and Joseph originally thought to name her Mittens because of her markings (black and white); we suggested a better name – Winky.
Winky is what we call a foster fail. Heather agreed to foster until she was ready to be adopted, but it seems the family is in love with that cute little one eyed beauty, so there will be no adoption. Winky has her forever home and we have an adorable grandkitty that comes over for family dinners.
Robert has agreed to watch Joseph several times when he has holidays from school, but Heather and Jose both had to work. They have enjoyed their bonding time of riding in the back yard together, watching movies and eating pizza. It’s so much fun to watch the two of them together.
I continued to fight with Dr. R about getting me off Gabapentin for two more months before I finally told him I was referred to him to manage the psychotropic drugs to deal with my neuropathy symptoms since Gabapentin made me so dang tired. He made the mistake of asking me once again how irritated I was feeling. I told him the only thing irritating me was him, and why was I spending my money there to get off of Gabapentin if he was not going to help change the medication over to the next phase of drugs – the psychotropic meds? He seemed to want to ignore that statement and asked me yet again about work. In February and I had added another hour to my workday, so I am now working 11am to 4pm. He wanted to know how this was going; did I feel stressed about my working conditions? Every appointment he asks me this, and every appointment I tell him I am not stressed about work, or the conditions! Yes, I now work for the person who used to work for me. Yes, my old job is no longer available, but the President of the company did not have to take me back, yet he did. I am working, slowly getting back to full time, and not being pressured to do more than I think I can handle without stressing myself out or overdoing what I can physically handle. What do I have to stress about, other than you Dr. R? I once again explained to him why I was there, not for him to manage my moods or emotional state, but to manage the prescription medications to manage my neuropathy. His first response was I do not manage neuropathy. I must have given him “the look”, as he immediately asked me when I see my Oncologist again. I told him I had just seen her. He then asked me “what did he suggest?” I told him “SHE suggested Lyrica”. He gave me a look and said ok, let us stop the Gabapentin and we are going to try Klonopin which is a sedative used for seizures, panic disorder and anxiety. Psychotropic drug in the benzodiazepine family. He started me off on the lowest dose, .5mg. I am not thrilled that we are starting with this particular psychotropic drug, but glad that he is finally listening to me and we are now turning in the direction that I need, not the direction his overbearing pompous ass has decided I should be going.
Heather, Joseph and I went down to San Diego area twice for
Guild meeting and projects. I had a
wonderful time visiting with our Guild members both times and I am looking
forward to spring fair. I will only be
attending one weekend as my dear cousin has scheduled the family Passover Seder
on the last DAY of Passover, which is also the same as the first weekend of
spring fair. For those of you who don’t
know, Jewish holidays start at sundown the evening before the day of the
holiday and run until sundown of the last day of the holiday (for one day
holidays it is from sundown to sundown, for multiday holidays it runs sundown,
days 1, 2, 3… to last day of celebration sundown). Since I missed Passover with my family last
year, I do not want to miss it again this year.
So only one weekend of fair for me this spring.
I had my first “infection” since chemo. I woke up one Monday morning about 4am with
the chills, body aches, and my face feeling like it was about to blow off from
all the pressure in my sinuses, but I could breathe just fine. I took a dose of Nyquil and went back to
bed. Finally dragged myself up again
about 9am and was still shivering. The
last time I was shivering like that and could not seem to get warm was when I
was on chemo. Duh, I must have a
fever! I pulled out the thermometer we
had purchased to keep tabs on me during chemo treatments and took my
temperature. It beeped after about 30
seconds and when I pulled it out from under my tongue, it read 358o! Then it flashed red and displayed the message
it had a low battery. For a second I
thought for sure the message was going to tell me to get to the ER now! I asked Robert to feel my forehead instead
and he said it felt a little warm. I was
still feeling the major body aches and the sinus pressure, so took another dose
of Nyquil, texted the office I would not be in and went back to bed. Other than getting up to pee and drink more water,
I slept the whole day and that night.
The following day I was still feeling the same, so stayed home from work another day and other than about 2 hours in the afternoon that I forced myself up to eat something, I slept in bed. Robert knew I must be sick if I was not even getting out of bed and napping on the sofa, which is what I mostly did while I was on chemo. I would get up, make myself wash and brush my teeth and head to the sofa. Even though I was exhausted most of the time, I would still take my naps on the sofa, not in bed. I was not ILL then. Well, except for that one time when I spiked the fever, but the antibiotics I was supplied with at the start of chemo took care of that right away.
By Wednesday of that week, I still felt the pressure in my sinuses, but the body aches and the chills had mostly subsided, and my ears were feeling clogged, but I was still breathing ok, so I went back to work. Same with the following week, but now that pressure in my sinuses was starting to create congestion, and I developed a cough, that was just getting worse. I called my GP’s office and scheduled an appointment on that Friday morning. She was not happy with me. I had blazing ear infections, a glorious sinus infection (even though when I blew my nose my phlegm was clear, but when I used my Neti pot, that would flush some nasty looking globs out of my sinuses), and she didn’t really like the sound of my upper lungs. No crackling but I did sound a little wheezy, so the infection was trying to work its way down. In addition, I had been masking my fever for the past week and a half with Dayquil. I was at 99.9o when they took my temp there. I was told to go back home, take the antibiotics and rest. I could go back to work next week.
I was not sure how I felt about being ill. It almost felt like a badge of honor and I
should be proud, I survived Chemo, surgery and radiation and now I was allowed
to be “normal” and pick up the passed around germs and develop infections like
all the rest of the “non-cancer” people.
On the other hand, I was not liking being sick. It felt so foreign now.
During my 14 months of treatment and recovery, I re-connected with one of my high school teachers. I loved this teacher, he cared about his students, and even though he was the music teacher, and I did not play an instrument, I did have him as the director of marching band – I was in the rifle core. In the spring, he would have me as his TA for my first class of the day so my schedule would not get messed up. He would talk to us, try to impart wisdom, and was always there to listen when we had a problem, whether at school or home. If you messed up he expected you to be honest about your mistakes and he imposed penalties. Usually an essay about what you did wrong, examine your motives and decision making, how your error affected those around you and yourself, and then provide a plan on how to prevent the same error in the future. He cared.
He planned a trip to SoCal at the beginning of March. We made arrangements to meet up for coffee
and a nosh before I had to get into work.
It was wonderful catching up with him and hearing about some of my
classmates. We talked about some neither of us have connected with since
graduation, which we both found sad. One
of my classmates won an Oscar this year! He was very proud of what this student
had done with his music.
Now to address what I have not wanted to put in writing as
it makes it all too real. Two of the
women in my support group are still battling their triple negative breast
cancer (TNBC). Mary Jo knew she was
positive for the BRCA1 gene mutation, but had not had a prophylactic bi-lateral
mastectomy. Last year she found a lump
in one breast and when they did the diagnostic imaging they found another
smaller lump (DCIS) in her other breast.
She opted for chemo and a lumpectomy on the invasive spot, but wanted to
wait and see what would happen with the DCIS.
When she had her lumpectomy, she had not had a complete pathological
response to chemo, even though her invasive tumor had shrunk considerably. She also was afraid radiation therapy would
cause her more problems with recurrence, so opted to reject that recommended
treatment. Her doctor did enroll her in
a trial group for immuno-therapy though.
A few months later, she found another lump in the same breast that had
the lumpectomy. This time she did have a
mastectomy and she is now back on chemo.
She has sought out a secondary opinion with an Oncologist at City of Hope. The first thing they told her is that the chemo regime she was originally given is not a proven track record for those with the BRCA1 mutation. Her original Oncologist should have known this as it is proven in journals and AMA publications. The standard chemo regime for TNBC with BRCA1 mutation is different than those without the BRCA1 mutation. Her oncologist had put her back on two of the standard drugs, Taxol and Carboplatin, in the standard dosing. Since she went back to them with the City of Hope’s initial information, they have changed her chemo regime to the correct one for BRCA1 – Gemzar and Carboplatin in a dose dense cycle; switching off weeks and waiting a week before starting the next cycle. We are all very hopeful that with the City of Hope now consulting on her treatment plan, that this will kill off any residual cancer cells and she can be cancer free.
The other woman in my group with TNBC is Kelly. She is negative for all the usual gene
mutations they now test for BC risk.
When she originally found her lump, her doctor ordered an
Ultrasound. The tech only scanned half
her breast, and they proceeded to schedule her for a lumpectomy rather than a
biopsy. Her pathology report came back
as TNBC, so they then put her on chemo.
She was going to opt for a bi-lateral mastectomy and trans-flap
reconstruction and avoid the radiation therapy.
As she ended chemo and was waiting on her body to recover enough for
surgery she kept feeling a lump very close to where her original lump had
been. Her oncologist kept telling her it
was just scar tissue, not to worry. She
finally insisted they do an ultrasound. That
was when she found out the original ultrasound was done on only half her
breast. This time they did both breasts.
They found another lump and did a biopsy. With the pathology report due any second, as
she was going into surgery for the bi-lateral mastectomy and trans-flap
surgery, she told her oncology surgeon that if the pathology report came back
as positive for ANY active cancer, she did not want the reconstructive
surgery. 13.5 hours later, she woke to
find that it was active TNBC, and despite her request to omit the
reconstructive portion of surgery if there was still active cancer, the plastic
surgeon had proceeded with the reconstruction.
Several weeks after this happened she noticed a rash on the side where her lumpectomy had been. Her oncologist told her it was probably a reaction to something and not to worry about. Her rash quickly spread and grew worse – becoming painful with open sores. She insisted they biopsy the rash to figure out what it was. TNBC, due to sloppy surgery had been spread to her skin. They scheduled her for radiation treatment. In the meantime, she went to City of Hope for a second opinion. First, they told her after reviewing all her records that she had grounds for a malpractice suit. Then they told her that if they cannot cure this spread of her TNBC, they can manage it long term. They had several TNBC patients on long-term management care, one going on 20 years now. She is now going to UCLA with oversight from City of Hope and fighting for her life.
Yes, these stories scare the shit out of me. I remind myself that after chemo I had no signs of active cancer from my original tumor and no signs of active cancer in my lymph nodes. This is such a positive for me in regards to my long-term recurrence and survival rates. This helps when that little dragon tries to do loops in my torso, and the demon in my brain tries to negate every positive thought in my brain. When I feel the that dragon and demon, I remind myself to relax my jaw, to breathe in slowly and deeply, hold a moment then exhale just as slowly. I start paying attention to what I hear, see and feel around me to take my focus away from the negative and be in the moment.
These two strong, fighting women, along with Armanda who is the ER/PR positive metastatic “newcomer” to our group inspire me and scare me at the same time. I pray for them daily for their cure, then follow that with if not cured, then let them be on long term, VERY long term management of their cancers.
