Another New Year

Here it is the end of of another calendar year.  I remember sitting down to reflect on the New Year last year.  I was still reeling from that insane phone call where the radiologist told me I had cancer and needed to find a surgeon and someone would call me later with more information.  Did I have any questions?  Only about a million!  By the end of the year, I'd had many more tests and learned a lot, but there were still a lot of unknowns.

And here I am sitting down again to think about all that has happened in 2015 and what might be coming in 2016.  Like I said last year, in the end it will be a year like any other, with ups and downs and joy and sadness and everything in between.

Things that happened in 2015, in no particular order...

• Fun times on Lake Coeur d'Alene and Lake Pend Oreille with family and friends
• Watching Bryce shoot hundreds (thousands?) of baskets
• 4 rounds of chemo, followed by 4 Neulasta shots, followed by a chemo haze
• Surgery (which besides the actual surgery entailed injecting my breast with blue dye and inserting a wire in it)
• Camping with the kids at Lucky Peak
• Claire doing awesome at swimming lessons
• Bryce refusing to participate in swimming lessons
• 33 radiation treatments
• Being part of the Lentil Family of the Year (thanks Dad!)
• Starting to take medication every day for the first time in my life
• Hot flashes... LOTS of hot flashes
• Acupuncture... which finally relieved the hot flashes (Amen!)
• Watching Claire play soccer, basketball and gymnastics
• Celebrating at Tara's wedding; the joy on Claire's face at getting to be her flower girl
• Practicing my spring dive and swimming the dark after Tara's wedding (Did I mention the pool wasn't heated?  Brrr!!)
• Delicious meals with Juan at Alavita and Bleubird
• Getting my hair all chopped off into a cute pixie cut in front of all my girlfriends...
• ... and then watching it all start to fall out and shaving my head a few weeks later
• Driving to Cheney with Dawn for Tara's bridal shower... realizing how much faster the drive goes with no children in the car
• Claire starting 2nd grade; Bryce starting pre-school
• WSU Homecoming with family and friends... and a Cougar Victory!
• Being overwhelmed and amazed by the generosity and kindness of family and friends and sometimes even strangers

Things I was exceptionally thankful for in 2015...

• Healthy kids and rest of my family
• Juan's job and a rather amazing health insurance plan
• Not feeling as sick as I expected during chemo, no weird reactions
• Meals, etc. from friends and family so I didn't have to think about cooking
• All the people who helped watch or entertain the kids (especially my parents who took them to Tekoa for over a week!)
• Doctors and nurses who are professional, kind, and trustworthy... and have a sense of humor, too
• A fun summer vacation
• People who went out of their way to say hello or let me know they were thinking of me
• My sisters-in-law who insisted on getting me help to clean my house during treatment
• Finishing all my treatment, being declared cancer-free/no evidence of disease, and knowing I've done everything I can to reduce the risk of a recurrence
• Finally letting Juan convince me to have Lasik.  Totally worth it!!!
• My kids, my family, & my friends!  Oh, and on occasion, Carlo (the cat) (when he's being nice and cuddly).

When I type up all those things 2015 doesn't seem like a bad year at all.  I feel blessed that I naturally focus on the positive things and the bad things seem to kind of fade away.  If this last year can have so many good things then how can 2016 not be even better?  Happy New Year!

One Year and One Day

One year ago today... I was frantically making appointments for an MRI and pre-admission testing and genetic counseling as requested by my surgeon (who I'd only become a patient of that morning)... it was crazy.  A radiologist had called and told me I had cancer about 24 hours earlier.

I'm so thankful to be on the other side of things this year, but remembering those early days is difficult.  I think because I remember how sad I was and mostly how hard it was to tell people.  Calling Juan, my parents... trying to find the right words to explain to a seven-year-old who had figured out almost immediately that somethings was wrong why we were sad but also why it was going to be ok.  It sucked!

It seems like I should have something enlightening to say at this moment.  Like I should be sharing what I learned over the last year and how this experience had changed me.  But instead I kind of feel unable to analyze it or to focus my words right now so I'm not going to try.

For now I will just say THANK YOU to all the people who supported me in so many different ways over the last year... with a meal, a card or gift, a phone call, a text or email, a drink... and the countless thoughts and prayers that were said for my family.  To anyone who took a moment out of their day to think about us and wish us well, thank you so much!

Anniversaries

{Update:  Everything looked... errr... felt? great at my appointment with Dr. Kuhn last week so I'm good for another 6 months and then in April I will have another mammogram on the right and an MRI.}

Is it just me, or do most people find themselves reliving things when you reach that milestone of another year gone by?  I think it must be part of human nature.  That would explain why we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries of marriage and other things.

The day each of my children were born.  My kids are still fairly young, so these days are still relatively fresh in my memory I suppose.  I can't help but to remember the details of that day each year.  At this time I was walking around the hospital.  At this time I was still really, really pregnant.  At this time my sister-in-law said I was probably in labor and should go home and rest.  At this time I said I think we'd better go to the hospital now!  At this time I was debating getting an epidural.  At this time I was thinking the baby was never going to come out.  At this time I got to hold sweet Claire for the first time.  At this time I was having a staring contest with newborn Bryce.  I was a mom... responsible for another human life!  It goes on all day.  At some point I usually sit quietly and try to just relive the whole day in one sitting.

My wedding day.  Twelve years ago and it's still pretty fresh, too.  I woke up and thought, today I am getting married!  I sliced strawberries.  My mom's friend made me the most delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich I've ever eaten in my life.  I drank crappy wine straight from the bottle with my girlfriends.  I ruined my nails putting torches in buckets of sand.  I had my hair and make-up done.  I sweltered in my dress, it was so hot that day.  My dad walked me down the aisle.  I said, "I do."  Juan said, "I do."  We kissed.  We danced.  We drank.  The septic overflowed.  We drank more!!!

There are also a handful of sad days I remember each year.  Not necessarily the exact date usually, but the month or season.  It was in November, April, December...  I was sitting at my desk when Juan called me... my mom emailed me... my dad called me.  (I'm always at work when I get bad news!!)  Joyce gave me a hug while I cried.  I stared out the window unable to comprehend that he was no longer on this Earth.  I shut my door.  I left.  I went home.

There are also days we all remember.  9/11... I was driving to work when I heard about an airplane crashing into the Twin Towers.  I didn't quite understand what had really happened.  Work was CRAZY!  Phones ringing off the hook... people wanting to donate blood or send things to NYC.  Everyone wanted to hold a blood drive, and right now, too!  Donors literally lined up out the door.  I'd worked here less than a year.  We watched a little old TV in horror and disbelief such a thing could happen.

And now I have a slew of cancer anniversary dates.  They are piling up in front of me.  I'm assuming as time goes by, most of the exact dates will fade from memory.  This year, they jump out at me from the calendar.  October 7.  October 31.  November 4.  November 10.  January 7.  February 17.  April 21.  June 25.  Most are still yet to come, but I know I will remember what happened on each of those dates.  I might relive some of them here in writing as well.  I will think about my blissful ignorance the day, the moment, before that date.  Before the phone call... before the appointment...

It makes me sad.  I'm not sure why.  I'm here.  I'm alive.  I'm healthy.  I feel good, and normal.  I even have hair.  For all intents and purposes I have been declared cancer-free.  So why do I feel like I could cry when I even think about those days?

Isn't It Ironic

How ironic this should be in the headlines on CNN today: 
New Breast Cancer Guidelines: Screen later, less often
This article has more detailed information, too.

This part was particularly disturbing to me:  "...and that everyone can skip the routine manual breast checks by doctors."  Since my doctor actually was the one to find the lump in my breast last year it seems kind of important... especially if you don't know exactly what you are looking for when you do a self-exam, which pretty much every woman my age I've ever talked to has said.

Ladies reading this... please continue to let your doctor do an exam just in case!  I don't understand why they would recommend not doing this... It doesn't cost any extra money... and if you are already going to see your doctor who has been trained to do a clinical breast exam, why would you not have it done while you are there?

This morning I had my first follow-up mammograms.  It was my first time back to the breast imaging center since my surgery in January.

It was so nice to hear that the radiologist said they looked just as they would expect and nothing concerning to be seen.  At the same time... the mammograms I had last year also looked normal.  It was ONLY because my doctor had felt that lump that I also had an ultrasound which did show an abnormality.  Because of this, I don't have a lot of confidence in my mammogram... I guess I have more on an issue regarding "younger" women and mammograms because I worry they won't show anything... that's more concerning to me than showing something that turns out to be nothing.

One of the primary reasons for the new guidelines according to the article above is that the chance of false positives is higher in women under age 45.  "The chances of false positives are especially high for women under 45, as they have denser breasts and tumors are harder to spot on an image. "If she starts screening at age 40, she increases the risk that she'll need a breast cancer biopsy that turns out with the doctor saying 'You don't have cancer, so sorry we put you through all this,'" Brawley said."

So, my take is they are saying the mammogram could show an abnormality of some sort, which could require a biopsy, which very likely would turn out to be nothing and thus you went through that stress for nothing.  And for this reason, we just shouldn't screen women under 45 at all.  

Being told you need to have a biopsy is very stressful.  Having a biopsy is scary because it might hurt and they are going to stick a needle in your boob.  Not something that sounds (or is) fun.  But the real reason it is scary and stressful, is that you might have cancer!  You might play off that you are mostly scared it will hurt, but I think most people are more scared about the cancer part.

It is unfortunate that we don't have a screening test that would tell you right up front if a mass was cancer or not.  It is unfortunate that a woman might go through the stress and worry of having a biopsy "for no reason."  But I'm jealous of that woman.  I wish I would have gone through my biopsy for nothing.  I wish I would have gotten a call from someone saying, "Sorry we put your through this, it's not cancer."  In my mind, it really isn't for nothing, it's to make certain you don't have cancer.

Maybe I would have been annoyed I had to go through all that for what turned out to be nothing.  Mostly I think I would have felt relief and gratitude!  Because after you have a biopsy, all you think about is if you have cancer or not.  Maybe your boob is a little sore and you have to ice it, but mostly that just reminds you that you might have cancer.

And you wait for the phone to ring.  And when it doesn't, you call the office to ask if they have your results yet (no).  And then after forcing yourself to wait until at least 2 o'clock, you call back the next day, too (hey, they said 2-4 days and we're in that time frame!).  And you try to imagine what it will be like when they finally do call.  You imagine them saying, good news, it's nothing.  Sorry you had to go through this.  Hearing those words would be totally awesome.  I guess I did get to hear that after my second biopsy.  It was awesome.  I didn't feel angry that I had to have the biopsy, I just felt thankful there was no more cancer.  Although at the same time, I already had cancer so it was a slightly different experience.

And so, in my mind, that reasoning is kind of a load of crap.  I'm pretty sure most women under the age of 45 who has been diagnosed with cancer might agree.  What is scary to me is to think about the woman who might have had cancer detected by a mammogram or clinical breast exam when it was in an early stage.  But she didn't, and by the time they find it, it has spread and her prognosis is much more grim and treatment much more intense.

Research shows that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.  That seems like a lot.  And that is based on the sole "risk factor" of being female.  I hope that despite these new guidelines, insurance companies will continue to cover breast cancer screening for women age 40-45 if they choose to be screened.  I really hope they can keep improving the technology to detect breast cancer (and all cancers).  And to any woman who is mad that she had to go through the stress of a biopsy or other tests only to be told she does not have cancer, you might want to reassess and realize how thankful you should be.

Mammograms on the Horizon

My first post-cancer mammograms and breast exam are coming up next week.  They have me feeling a bit disconcerted.  Am I nervous?  Maybe, a little bit?  I am not nervous for the actual procedure, it's really not that terrible and rather quick.  I'm mostly afraid of how my heart will be racing while I sit in that little waiting area while the radiologist looks at my films.  What if the nurse comes back in and says, the doctor needs a couple more pictures or, heaven forbid, an ultrasound.  That would mean she sees something that shouldn't be there.

Then I think that can't happen.  I had surgery.  I did radiation to reduce the risk of a local recurrence, and I did freaking chemo on top of that.  Cancer is not allowed to come back and the chance of it coming back is very, very low for me.  I can't remember the exact numbers I was left with after all my treatments, but it was low.

Yet as I type this, inside I start to think, but it could happen.  It happens to other people, and there is no reason I am excluded from the pool.  It's the same thoughts I had last year.  I vividly remember chatting with Dawn as I waited for test results and both of us saying, I'm sure it will all be fine.  They say most breast lumps turn out to be nothing of concern.  I shouldn't worry...

And then I said, or maybe not.  Of all the women I know in my life, no one I'm really close to has had it.  Someone's going to get it.  The statistics say so (although I admit I didn't know the actual statistics).  But someone I know well is going to get breast cancer someday.  My mom?  An aunt?  A friend from high school?  College?  Dinner club?  Work?  Why not me?  I could be the one to get it, because someone is going to.  I think I felt like it would be easier to hear bad news if I was sort of prepared for it.  In the end I don't think it really made a difference.

So, basically I'm just trying to not think about next week too much.  I have no reason to think there might be a problem.  No lump like last year so even though this will be a diagnostic mammogram (I think they are diagnostic for at least the next couple years) it seems to me it's more of a screening.  I think what is hard to think about is that even though my risk is low at this point and I've heard breast cancer rarely comes back in the same or other breast, I know it can come back, and I feel like my risk was low in the first place, and it still happened anyway.  Life's a crap shoot... I think that's pretty much what it comes down to in the end.

One Year Ago Today | 10/7/14

One year ago today - October 7, 2014 - I had my annual checkup with Dr. Fealko (my awesome doctor who saved my life when I had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy and was bleeding internally even though I didn't know it, and then a little over a year later she delivered the Brycer).

One year ago today I fasted so that I could have a blood panel taken to make sure my cholesterol and glucose and all that stuff looked good.

One year ago today Dr. Fealko said I wouldn't need to have a pap for another five years which sounded great to me!

One year ago today I got my flu shot.

One year ago today Dr. Fealko said, do you do a self breast exam every month?

One year ago today she said she felt a little lump.  She said it was probably nothing as I had lots of dense tissue.

One year ago today she said I should get a mammogram just in case, and they would do an ultrasound, but don't freak out when they say they need to do that too because it's just standard procedure to do both.  She said I'd probably have to do it at the downtown location because that is where they do the diagnostic mammograms and I had no idea what that even meant.

One year ago today I said, OK, and didn't really think much of it other than it was an inconvenience.

Wanna Cry? Watch this.

This was posted on a Facebook page I am a member of for young women with breast cancer.

The Hair Book

 This is the book Claire chose to read to me when I visited her classroom this week.

We have lots of Dr. Suess/Bright & Early books, but this was not one I had seen before.  Claire had definitely read it and made a special effort to find it when it was time to D.E.A.R. (drop everything and read) so that she could read it to me.  The kids all scattered to various bookshelves in the room... I could tell Claire was searching and she was one of the last ones to find her book.  I wish I had a picture of her face as she walked over to me with it.  She had what can only be described as a sh*t-eating grin on her face as she walked over with her book in hand.  It is a cute book and as you would expect, all about hair.

I think she thought I would really like it since hair (or no hair) has been quite a topic of conversation in our house over the past several months.  I wonder how many times she has chosen that book to read?  It made me a little sad to think about her reading that book and thinking about her mom with no hair.  There was one part that said something about how you wouldn't want to be like a whale and have no hair.  I'm glad I have hair again for my sake and for Claire's!!

Random Stories and Micro Update

I had my 3-month-post-chemo appointment with Dr. Bridges last week.  They took blood and tested all the different cell counts.  Everything is back in the normal ranges so that was great news and I don't have to see him again for six months.

Also my sweet neighbor cut my hair in her dining room a couple weeks ago and it is like a real haircut and I've gotten lots of compliments!  Thank you Leslie!!!

{1}  How come everywhere I go... and I mean pretty much EVERYWHERE, there is something about cancer and more often than not breast cancer?  It probably always has been this way, but I just didn't really notice before maybe?  And in that vein of thought, is it actually beneficial, all these commercial items or does it just desensitize us so we don't even notice?  Until you or someone close to you gets cancer that is.  I really need to start taking pictures to truly share how often this happens to me.  Just recently there was the sparkly pink ribbon key chains at Fred Meyer, the car I followed with a "Fight like a Girl" sticker and another with "Save the ta-tas," and even at the market where we like to buy fruit they had a jar labeled "Breast Cancer Awareness" (or something like that) out for donations.  The people with the stickers... I wonder, did that person have cancer?  Did their mom or sister or best friend?  Please don't buy a "Save the ta-tas" sticker in my honor.  Thanks. 

{2}  When I was at the appointment with Dr. Bridges the nurse say, "So you just had a mammogram."  No, I have one scheduled for October.  Then Dr. Bridges came in and first thing he said was, "So you just had a mammogram."  No!  Why did everyone keep asking me this?  Then we figured out someone had loaded another patients films into my record so we joked that those were not my boobs.

{3}  I was at Hobby Lobby to buy a gift card and the clerk asked who the lucky recipient was so I told her a co-worker.  She asked where I worked and I told her the Red Cross blood center.  This led to talking about blood donation which is pretty typical.  She mentioned she had called the plasma center up the road (not Red Cross) to find out if she could donate but they wouldn't/couldn't tell her.  She said she wondered if she could donate after having cancer.

{4}  At Claire's soccer practice I was half-participating in a conversation with a couple other moms when one of them asked the other how a mutual friend was doing.  The answer was that she only has one more round of chemo and then her surgery.  I asked what kind of cancer - invasive ductile carcinoma  - oh yeah, I know that one.  I was dismayed when I heard her friend's story!  She had a mammogram (and probably ultrasound) and the doctor (radiologist) said it was just a cyst... don't worry about it.  Five months later she had a large lump and some other breast problems.  She went back and the same doctor was the only one available to do a biopsy.  Obviously it wasn't just a cyst.  It was a triple-negative malignant tumor!  How scary is that!!?  Apparently she works for the hospital where she was misdiagnosed and has subsequently done her treatment at one of the Cancer Centers of America in Phoenix.

{5}  In my mind I still have really short hair because of chemo/cancer.  We had a visitor at work from out of town who I haven't seen in a long time and she said, "You cut your hair!  It's so cute... blah blah blah..."  I kind of hesitated and said, "Thanks, you knew I had to do chemo, right?"  She said, yes, of course she did, but it didn't just grow in like that did it?  You must have had it cut/styled?  It was kind of refreshing to realize that it really is just a cute haircut at this point as opposed to the grow out of a shaved/bald head.  I probably should get it cut again.  I do like it short, but it kind of feels like it's my "cancer hair" and that makes me want to let it grow for a while... even if I just chop it off again at some point.

Mini Update

I had my follow-up appointment with Dr. Kuhn, my radiation oncologist last week.  My skin looks great, and I'm cleared to start getting mammograms.  I thought maybe I wouldn't see Dr. Kuhn again after this, but actually she is the one who will manage my mammograms and after each mammo I get to have a breast exam with her.  Sounds fun!  I'll have my first mammo and exam since all this started in October.  (My first ever mammogram was on Halloween last year.)  In April I'll have another mammogram just on the right side and also a breast MRI.

I'm still wishing and hoping that acupuncture will get my body back in "balance" so I don't have hot flashes all the time.  As mentioned, I've been keeping track andI still feel like I'm having a lot.  It had been a bit better... as in having 6-8 instead of 8-10 per day (day only... I always have one or two at night it seems and I don't bother counting them).  Then yesterday I had like 12!  I have acupuncture today.  We'll see how the rest of this week goes.  I have an appointment set up for next week, too, but I think if it still seems plateaued I'm going to give up and just suffer through them.  I know it takes time, but I feel like I've been pretty patient... it's been 2 months of going every week, except when we were on vacation I missed a week.

I've decided to blame Tamoxifen for my irritability, roller coaster of emotions, and lack of patience with my children, husband, and the world in general.

My hair has been growing!  Now I'm just a regular chick with really short hair rather than a shaved head/cancer person.  I'd become pretty good at shaving my own head, but I'll leave the actual cutting to a professional.  My neighbor who is a stylist said she could clean it up and make it look like an actual cute pixie cut tonight!

Not Much to Report

This blog is probably going to get pretty boring from here on out and (hopefully) there won't be much to share, aside from my random thoughts.

I started my "hormone therapy" as they call it - that's the medication, Tamoxifen, that I get to take for the next 10 years - on Monday, July 13, 2015.  I haven't really noticed feeling any different so that is good.  Of course it's most common side effect is hot flashes, which I'm already dealing with.  The other common side effects are things like vaginal dryness (or discharge), decreased libido, weight gain (or loss), and mood swings.  Awesome.  I already have more than half of those things, too, so whatever.  There are some more serious side effects (like other cancers) that can happen but they are very rare.  This is what the paper work from my doctor said: (It doesn't say weight gain but he mentioned that one at my last appointment.)

I'm still doing acupuncture in the hope I can eliminate (or nearly) my hot flashes.  I think it has helped from when I first started, but I still have plenty.  I've been trying really hard to keep track of them... I've tried to keep track several times and seems like I never do very well.  It's not always convenient to write it down, or even to log it on my phone.  But this time I'm really being vigilant about it.  Here is a good little article about acupuncture.

On Tuesday (the day of acupuncture) I had 9 throughout the course of the day, plus at least one in the night.  On Wednesday, I had 9 again, plus a couple in the night.  Today I've had 10.  I was thinking about stopping acupuncture because frankly I'm pretty tired of going to any medical-related appointments, but I've come this far so I'm going to keep doing it at least for a few more weeks.  If I don't see more improvement then I'll feel ok giving up on it.  That's why I'm committed to keeping track.  And no, I have not created a spreadsheet.  Not yet... you never know, I do love my spreadsheets!

My radiated skin is pretty much all healed.  I've been putting good lotion on every morning and night because this skin does feel a little different.  I'm supposed to do plenty of stretching and massaging to break up the scar tissue.  I can wear underwire bras again which does wonders for my figure.  I have a pretty good tan going on thanks to multiple days on the lake and so you can't even see the radiation "tan" lines.

And what about my hair?  It's super short, but it's almost long enough that I can say a healthy woman of sound mind and body might willfully choose to have her hair cut this almost short.  I looked back at the pictures I found of short hair styles I liked before I had it cut pre-chemo, thinking maybe some were this short.  Well, not quite, but getting closer every day I suppose.  Sometimes I comb it now.  I have shampoo and conditioner in my shower again, which was an exciting milestone!  I took it all out when I lost my hair and just used baby shampoo on my head.  I've been taking Biotin which is supposed to make your hair, skin and nails super healthy.  Also my eye lashes and brows are coming back.  The lashes are short, but pretty thick and my brows are filling in again.  Yay!

I have a message that I need to call St. Luke's to make an appointment with them.  The message didn't really specify what the appointment was for or who it was with but I think it must be for my "survivorship plan" appointment.  I haven't called them back yet.

Here's some disheartening news, I was looking for some other info online and noticed all these search results related to breast cancer survivors and weight gain.  Apparently there was a study about this just published yesterday... lame, lame, more lame (these are probably all basically the same article).  Time to take up running or something I guess!

Radiation in the Rearview

I had my last radiation appointment this morning.  It was the same as all the others aside from the fact that I don't have to come back tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.  Hooray!!  I made a batch of our new favorite - salted caramel rice krispy treats - for the radiation staff to celebrate my grand finale.  I kind of felt like we were all friends since I've visited with them nearly every morning for the past 6-1/2 weeks (33 mornings to be exact).  Unlike visits with normal friends they also got to see my boob each morning.  They were all very nice people who made the experience as pleasant as possible.  I've actually seen them a lot more than any of my actual friends or family (except the ones that live with me of course)!  Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to send me a quick note today to let me know you were thinking of me.  You have no idea how much I appreciated it!  And needed it today!

I wasn't prepared for how emotional I felt about finally reaching "the end" of my treatment.  Although at the same time, I also don't feel like this is the end, and maybe that's part of it, too.  I still have to do the hormone therapy for several years.  Yes, it's only taking a little pill everyday - nothing compared to what these last few months have entailed - but it's still part of the deal.  A little reminder every single day that I had breast cancer.  Plus, I will have lots of doctor appointments and screenings in my future.  And a lingering fear always in the background that I'm sure will bubble to the surface every so often.

It was all I could do to hold it together until I at least got out the door of the hospital.  By the time I got to my car I was falling apart and I had to have a nice hard, but quick, cry.  I figured anyone who saw me crying in the parking lot wouldn't think it was that weird since (a) it's a hospital and (b) my hair is still so short that "cancer patient" is a safe bet.  I was feeling so angry that this happened to me and my family.  I haven't really thought about it for quite a while now; I've been too busy living it every day.  I think the last time I was upset about everything was when I found out I should do chemo.  Then there was the last time I washed my hair before chopping it all off... I might have been a little upset.

It probably sounds weird that I did plenty of crying on a day when I should feel nothing but joy.  I'm guessing the only people who could truly understand this are the ones who've had a cancer diagnosis in their lifetime.  Don't get me wrong, I am SO happy to have reached this point.  I am definitely not sad to have this phase over.  I am sad that my life will never be quite like it was before.  But that's just part of life I suppose.  Perhaps it's disappointment that "it's over," except that it's actually not.

As I walked away from my last visit to the "Caution: High Radiation Area" I realized that I feel like I've been holding my breath for the last 8 months and now I can finally exhale... and apparently shed some tears, too.  I knew I was going to have a hard time at work.  Part of me wanted to call in and say I wasn't coming today.  But I knew my co-workers were excited for me to finish radiation and would worry if I didn't show up.

When I got to the top of the stairs at my office the first thing I saw was that there were balloons on my desk and a box of delicious maple bars.  Kathy jumped up to give me a hug and wish me congratulations and I just started crying and scared her half to death.  I couldn't help it.  It was too much.  There is something about other people going out of their way to do something special for you.  Poor Kathy thought I'd gotten bad news at my appointment or something terrible.  Luckily I was able to compose myself and convince her I was ok and that everything was really very good!  And thank her so much for the balloons and treats!  (Bryce likes the balloons, too!)

Our friend Lisa came in and was confused by my tears, too.  But then she was able to articulate what I couldn't at that moment... apparently she works the same way I do.   Now I am able to put it into words myself.

 

When there is a "crisis" you just get down to business and and do what you have to do.  You hold it together.  Emotion takes a back seat to action.  Eventually there is nothing left to be done to "fix" the problem.  And so, when you get through whatever trial you have faced, the emotions finally catch up and overtake you.  That is exactly how I felt today.

Almost Done with Radiation

I've reached my final week of radiation!  I only have THREE {make that TWO!} treatments left.

The last five treatments (so last Friday and then the four this week) are a little different than the previous 28.  These are more concentrated directly on the tumor bed site.  They are even faster than the others (just one shot).  On Friday, they marked me up with a sharpie again.  I have a small X over my tumor site and then they put a dot of clear tape over the top so that the mark won't wash off.  They also drew a wonky circle around the X which indicated the whole area to be radiated, but that washed off and they don't have to draw that part again.  After my FINAL treatment on Thursday I can take off the tape and wash the X off of my body.

There is now this extra attachment on the radiation machine so that it is really close to my body (almost touching it) and there is a special metal plate that was made just for me that directs the radiation in the precise shape they determined was needed.  I asked if I got to keep the plate as a souvenir since it was personalized for me, but they said no because it is full of toxic metal.  They melt them down when you are done to make new ones.  The dose of radiation in these final treatments is the same.  I don't quite understand how it all works, but something about the wavelength and that the electrons will breakup at a certain depth inside my body and for that reason they can aim directly at the tumor site and the radiation won't go all the way through my body and harm my lungs or any other organs.  The treatment field for all the previous ones was a big rectangle over my entire breast and some under my arm.

I saw Dr. Kuhn for the last time during treatment today.  I will see her again in 6 weeks just to make sure my skin is all healed.  She said my skin has held up really well.  In the last week and a half it started to bother me a bit.  First in my armpit (imagine a sunburn in your armpit that doesn't go away) and then under my boob.  I think going to the pool and having wet skin/wet bathing suit rubbing didn't do me any favors.  Luckily these final treatments don't hit in my armpit or underneath and so that skin should start healing now.  Dr. Kuhn said to put Aquaphor on it and I have a big pot of it in Bryce's room.  I'm so thankful it didn't start bothering me until the end.  One of the techs the other day made a comment that it is common to start having skin problems after the first couple weeks.  I would have done a lot of complaining if that had happened.  Now I walk around with my hand on my hip a lot of the time so that the skin doesn't rub so much.

I took some pictures for you.  This is where I've been going every morning (well Monday-Friday) for the last six weeks...

This is the door to the radiation treatment room.  It's really thick!  Jerry the technician told me the walls around the room are 5-6 feet thick in some places.  Yikes!

This is really blurry, but you can see the table/bed I lay on covered with the white sheet.  The bed moves back over that white circle, then raises up toward the ceiling, and then rotates around to whatever angle necessary.  When Claire Claire accompanied me to treatment one day last week Jerry let her push the button to raise the bed up in the air.  Once the bed is back over the white circle, that whole big machine rotates around.

These are the "stars" I get to gaze at while I lay there.  They fade from green to blue to purple to white and the white is kind of bright if you look right at some of them so I usually just close my eyes.  That circular part of the machine is where the radiation shoots out.

{Side Note}  This is what I have left for eyelashes.  It actually looks like more in this picture than when I look in the mirror.  There is a huge gap about in the middle.  I think some new ones are starting to grow but they are really short.  I don't think "volumizing" mascara would be much help.

"I Like Your Haircut"

I have some hair now.

I could truly tell it was starting to grow a little over a month after my final chemo treatment (right around Memorial Day).  It was then I realized if I wanted to have any hope of having semi-normal looking hair (and that is likely wishful thinking) by Tara's wedding on July 11 that I couldn't shave my head again.  Not that I wanted to keep shaving my head... but while the hair was still so thin it felt creepy when it got very long and it actually felt better to have no hair.  It's been a couple weeks now since then.

As I was writing this I had a kind of depressing moment, because I attempted to measure how long my hair is so I could tell you... and it's barely a quarter of an inch.  I've only got one month until that wedding so I think "semi-normal" might be a stretch.  Oh well!  I guess that's probably about right though because I think someone told me hair usually grows about half an inch per month... so it's been a couple weeks that it's been growing and has grown a quarter inch.  Perhaps I'll have 3/4 of an inch by the wedding... maybe a full inch if my detox tea and (nasty) liquid vitamins make it grow extra fast.

----

It's about as long as that little dashed line.

That's pretty short.  And a lot of it is "silver" (i.e. gray, or maybe even white).  A few weeks back I was in TJ Maxx and a woman asked me if I was going through treatment.  She said when her hair started growing back it came in all gray at first, but after a while it went mostly back to her natural brown color.  Someone told her it's pretty common to come back gray in the beginning as a result of the havoc chemo does on your body.  We'll see, unfortunately mine had plenty of gray pre-chemo so this might just be my "natural" color.

I also have some really helpful people who like to say things like, "Your hair is really growing.  Look at how much gray there is... it's really coming in gray!"  Yes, thank you for reminding me of that.  I really appreciate it because I hadn't noticed.  Later a friend said something about how maybe it would be that "pretty" gray some women get when they get older.  I said that I don't want to have pretty gray hair!  Not at age 37!!!!  This was followed up with that she was getting her own hair colored because she was getting lots of gray (I couldn't see a single gray hair by the way; also she is maybe 15 years older than me... if you don't want gray hair, why would I?).  Do you see the problem here?  She tried to spin it that I had been bald so at least I was going to have hair again, even if it was gray.  This is somewhat true... but I've said it from day one... I was worried about it growing back all gray.  It makes me not happy.

I was thinking about this and why am I not just thankful to have any hair?  I think it's because I knew being bald was a temporary situation due to the chemo... having gray hair is for the rest of my life.  Again, I know I was already headed in this direction, but it still sucks.  And I won't be able to dye it until it's quite a bit longer and you can't see my scalp.  Also someone told me you aren't supposed to dye it for at least a year, not sure if that is really true.  I saw myself in the mirror at radiation this morning and maybe it was the lighting, but it looked grayer than ever and all I could think was how it made me look so much older than I actually am.

Even though my hair is apparently still really short at a 1/4 inch, it is definitely thicker than is has been and you can actually tell that I do have hair (although you can still see my scalp, too, it's not that thick yet).  When I touch my scalp I can tell there are lots (probably thousands) of hairs that are wanting to grow.  It doesn't feel smooth like it did before.  My assumption is it feels this way because all those follicles are starting to sprout hair or it's just under the surface or something like that.  Maybe before too long you won't be able to see my scalp anymore.  The hair itself feels pretty soft.

Also I actually have to shave my legs sometimes now.  I was hoping that hair loss would be permanent! Ha ha!

My eyebrows and lashes have continued to get a little bit thinner.  Hopefully they don't all fall out.  I've actually gotten pretty good (I think?) at filling in my eyebrows with an eyebrow pencil.  But if there is no hair there at all I don't think I could (nor do I want) to completely draw them in.  I did have someone tell me the other day I needed to make them darker... I was like, lady, the fact that I'm doing anything with them at all is an accomplishment in my book!

When I got to the checkout at Target the other day, the clerk (who had a funky short hair do) said to me, "I like your haircut."  I kind of laughed because I don't consider what I have a "haircut" and said thanks, that I just finished chemo and I was excited for it to be as long as hers was.  She told me she had shaved her head once when she was in junior high in support of her aunt who had cancer treatments.  She gave me some good advice on how to avoid having a mullet when it starts growing out (when it gets to a pixie length, if you want to grow it longer, you have to keep trimming the back while the top/sides grow).  I totally appreciated this advice because that last thing I need at this point in my life is a mullet!  Although maybe I could bring mullets back in style?  (Random thought... what is worse?  Having no hair or a mullet?  Or a rat tail?  I should figure out how to add a quiz to this post so you can vote!)

When I was dropping some things off at the Idaho Youth Ranch last weekend, the woman taking the donations also told me she liked my hair.  She said she'd always wanted to shave her head but wasn't brave enough to do it.  Of course I said with a smile, well I only did it because I had to do chemo.  Apparently she thought I'd just shaved my head for fun because I could tell she felt embarrassed then, which she shouldn't have because it didn't hurt my feelings or anything.  She said, "Oh!  I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry!"  Like she was surprised.

A couple observations about this from my perspective... I think it's kind of funny when someone is surprised I have no hair because of cancer/chemo.  Seriously, how many women have you ever met that shaved their head for any other reason?  I'm guessing the answer is none... maybe one if you have some crazy friend from when you were a kid (or possibly know someone who did it to "support" a friend with cancer).

I also think it's funny when women tell me they've always wanted to shave their head.  I've actually heard that more times than you would expect.  No, you haven't really always wanted to shave your head.  If you did, you'd probably at least have short hair, not long hair, which is the polar opposite of the shaved head you've always dreamed about.  If you really wanted to shave your head you might kind of do a test run with short hair, but you are too scared to even do that, so I'm pretty sure you don't really want to shave your head.  I think I can honestly say I never once even dreamed of shaving my head before all this.  I do think most women with long hair have probably wondered what it would be like to cut it short at some point, but shaving it all off?  I'm not buying it!

When I was at Maverick (seriously, you must think all I do is go to stores... I swear it's not true, but it seems that is when random strangers talk to me... probably because I don't see random strangers at my house obviously).  Anyway, as I was leaving, this nice older gentleman said to me, "I'm so proud of you."  I was a little confused and said, "Are you talking to me?"  And he said yes, and repeated the sentiment at least two more times.  I thought that was nice of him and thanked him.  I assume he was just proud of me for being awesome (and also mostly because I don't have hair and don't seem to care).  In reality I wondered if he had a wife or sister or someone who had cancer.

Today I was back at Maverick (yeah... again...) and the clerk said, "Ok, you've got the shaved head so I have to ask..." but I kind of interrupted before he could finish and said, "Oh, I had to do chemo and my hair is finally starting to grow back."  He told me that his wife had shaved her head last fall in support of their daughter.  Now this part almost made me cry because I have become extra sensitive about any human having any type of cancer.  Their daughter who is only in 8th GRADE was diagnosed with a rare form of ovarian cancer last summer!  He said she developed a tumor the size of a cantaloup.  The good news was that she is doing really well now and through with all her treatments and she's going to be able to start dancing again soon.  (And both his daughter and wife's hair is growing back now, too.)

Another observation... I'm not sure how I feel about people shaving their head in support of a loved one who has to go through cancer treatment.  A few friends and I have discussed this.  I think it is great that friends or loved ones want to show support.  I think for me personally, I'd rather have them show it in other ways.  I came across an article a while back about a whole group of friends who shaved their heads to support a friend.  They had a big party where they surprised her (she thought she was going to a birthday party) and had a photo shoot with all their bald heads.

But one of those women's hair isn't going to start growing back the next day while everyone else's is.  One of those women couldn't bare to take another shower until she shaved her head, because it was too disturbing to see and feel all the hair on her hands and in the drain.  Until you are holding a handful of your own hair you cannot really imagine how it feels (it's super creepy!).  I don't think it would have been any easier to go through that if my friends shaved their heads.  Also, no one else has to go through all the other side effects from chemo and cancer.  I know the thought is that it's a way to show solidarity and "you are not alone in this" but when it really comes down to it no one else can imagine the physical and emotional toll it takes unless they have been through it themselves.

I will admit I have a cynical opinion that most people who shave their heads "for" a friend are really doing it for themselves, even if they don't realize it.  Now, this is just my personal opinion, so if you have a friend or relative someday who has to do chemo and it makes them feel better if you shave your head by all means do it and throw all my opinions out the door!  But my advice is that you really should talk to the person first... there are a lot of other ways to give support that are truly meaningful and helpful!  Plus your friend might be like me and might be a little annoyed by it all so don't surprise her with a cue ball head and a "Hey, look what I did for you!"  I'm not alone in this opinion... in my ongoing quest to Google as many weird phrases as possible I searched "shave your head for cancer friend" and found: this, Dear Prudence agrees, and this, even more.

In the case of the mother/daughter story mentioned above, I've decided I consider that a special circumstance... something about doing it for a child (again this is assuming the child wants you to shave your head for them).  Children are still figuring out how they fit into the world and have more insecurities, and being or looking different can be a big deal.  If my child would feel better if I shaved my head, of course I would do it if that is what they wanted.

(Note, my child would not do the same for me... I suggested it several times and she was not buying it!  Also note, I was teasing her.  I wouldn't want her to shave her head anymore than a friend or relative!  Another note, it's just fine that Juan has a shaved head.  After all... he did it before I did!)

Acupuncture

I had my first acupuncture session on June 3.  It's all done through MSTI as part of their Integrative Medicine program, and the offices are just down the hall from where the chemo and radiation is done at the hospital.

My acupuncturist's name is Alan.  He's a nice guy and sounds like he's been doing this for a long time.  He said he has about a 98% success rate when it comes to helping with hot flashes... success means they might go away completely or at least become much less intense and just little "warm flashes" instead.  I will take either.

At my first appointment we started with a full consultation.  We talked about why I was there and he asked some questions about my cancer and treatment.  He shared some of his philosophy on health and well being... "Eat well.  Move well.  Rest well," is his mantra... also drink lots of water and try to go easy on the sugar.  Like everything in life, apparently acupuncture tends to be more successful if a person is in relatively good health to begin with, so aside from the cancer (that has been removed!) I have that in my favor.  Also the fact that I've only been having hot flashes for a couple months (not very long apparently) there is a better chance of it helping me.

He gave me the cliff notes version of what acupuncture is and how it can work.  I think I'm having chemo-brain right now and can't focus enough to explain it to you.  Alan said a 9-year-old patient put it really well when she said, "So acupuncture reminds my body how it's supposed to work."  It has to do with neurological pathways and messages and getting my body back in equilibrium.  Each treatment will get me closer to the center until I'm all in balance again.

So here is what the acupuncture experience itself has been like for me.  I sit in a pretty comfortable recliner type of chair that is covered with a white sheet.  Alan reclines the chair and uses some rolled up sheets to help me be as comfortable as possible (under my hand, arm, legs, or wherever necessary).  He takes my pulse on each arm. 

Then he starts placing the needles.  They are very thin.  At my first appointment he asked if I had ever donated blood.  I said yes I had, that I actually worked at the blood center.  He said you could probably fit at least seven of the acupuncture needles into one of our blood donation needles.  The acupuncture needles are single use and each in a sealed package.  He swabs the spots where needles will go with a little alcohol first.  I've had maybe 3-4 on my left arm, 5-6 on my left leg, 4-5 on the outside of my right leg, and 2-3 on my right arm/hand.  At my second appointment he also put one on my forehead.  It doesn't hurt when he places the needles.  Sometimes there is a little sting but it goes away.  Sometimes I can't feel it at all.  Once all the needles are in, he puts some sheets over my arms and legs so I don't get cold (although last time I still felt a little cold).  He puts a heat lamp thing aimed at my feet to warm them up (it feels good!).  Then he dims the light and puts on a white noise machine. 

Funny story... at my first appointment I was laying there relaxing and could hear this water running through the pipes.  It never let up and I thought it was weird because when someone washes their hands or flushes a toilet you hear the water and after a bit it stops.  This was like a magical bathtub that never stopped draining.  It didn't really bother me, I just thought it was odd and was curious about what it really was.  Well I figured it out at the end when I realized it was this white noise machine and it was actually the sound of a babbling brook!

After I'm all set up, Alan leaves the room and my job it to just relax and not move.  He comes back to check on me after about 10 minutes.  The needles need to be in place for 30-40 minutes to get the maximum benefit.  Sometimes it seems like my muscles twitch a few times.  At first I thought I might have a really hard time sitting there for so long and turning my mind off.  When I'm home sometimes I have hard time sitting still to watch a TV show because my mind thinks about all these other things I should be doing.  Luckily at my appointments I've found that I'm able to turn everything off and relax so much that I even dozed off for a little bit.  Alan said this is great and usually leads to more success if you are completely relaxed, especially enough to fall asleep!

Once we hit the 30-40 minutes Alan comes back in and removes the needles.  This feels a little weird but isn't painful.  Then he uses another alcohol swab to wipe each spot.  And that's it.  My second appointment was in the morning after radiation (on June 9) and I was so relaxed.  I felt like I had been there for a really long time.  It didn't seem right that I still had to go to work because I hadn't even really started my day yet... I felt like my day should be over.  It was kind of weird but after I was outside I was able to accept the fact that I did have to go to work.

I have another appointment next week.  Alan said if possible, it's best to do a treatment once a week as you get started and then if/when you start seeing results you can start stretching out the time in between treatments.  I am very lucky because my insurance does cover acupuncture.  I have a copay and can do up to 20 treatments in a calendar year.

Now, the million dollar question... is it helping?  It was made clear to me I shouldn't expect the hot flashes to go away after the first treatment, that it takes a few times to get your body back in that balance where it belongs.  I do think after this second treatment it's been a bit better.  I still am getting hot flashes but not quite as often.  So, I'll keep going and see if I can really get some positive results.  I'll keep you posted! 

Halfway...

I'm officially over halfway done with my radiation treatments.  It's actually gone faster than I thought.  Today was my 18th treatment... only 15 more to go!  My skin is still looking really good, a little darker/pinker especially on my chest but it just looks like I've been in the sun.  When I saw Dr. Kuhn on Monday she said it looks great... keep doing whatever I'm doing.

The other day as I was getting ready, Claire was asking me various questions about what it felt like and looked like.  I was already planning to come back home and drive her to school that day so that her insect report poster wouldn't get damaged on the bus, so I said, "Hey, do you want to come with me today?"  She said yes so we hopped in the car, dropped Bryce off at his preschool/daycare (he started last week and is liking it a lot), and then Claire and I went to MSTI.  I checked in and we headed back to the dressing room/waiting area.

I pointed out the infusion center and told her that was where I had done my chemo.  She immediately noticed one of the large jars of Jolly Rancher's they have on all the counters of course.  I told her if she was good maybe she could have one when we finished.  We had talked in the car about how she would have to sit with the technicians while I had my actual treatment and that she must sit still, not touch anything, be quiet, etc... I said if she had a question about what they were doing it would be ok to ask.  We actually had to wait longer than normal because they had a problem with the computer or something.  Claire liked the teal color of my gown.  Finally they called me back and Claire got to watch them set me up and then they gave her a special chair in the "Command Center" to sit in while they administered the treatment.  Of course she was very well behaved (they said she was shy) so I let her pick a Jolly Rancher on our way out.

I think it was a good experience for her.  She has told me a few different times that she shared at school about my radiation (which I'm sure none of her classmates understand at all) and she's asked me a few questions about it, so probably she was a little worried about it.  This was a great opportunity for her to see that it's not scary.  I truly believe that knowing more about things makes them less scary.  Claire was impressed with the little starry lights that are above the treatment table.  Also she said that the machine looked like a big "C" which is exactly what I thought on my first treatment.

One of the things that I've thought about as I've gone through all these different stages of my diagnosis and treatment is how many different jobs there are in the healthcare field besides doctors and nurses that I never thought about before.  Who knows what fields my kids might want to study when it comes time to think about a career, but this seemed like another chance to show her someone else's job.  (She wants to be some kind of scientist right now... like a marine biologist so she can study ocean animals.)  Claire also got to meet another patient whose appointment is right after mine.  She is further along than me (today was actually her last TX so I will miss chatting with her), and she has real hair... proof that eventually I will too!

Post Chemo: 1-Month Follow-up Appointment

I had the first of many follow-up appointments with Dr. Bridges last week on May 21... exactly 1 month after my final chemo treatment.  They took a blood sample to make sure everything was returning to normal.  The results were taking a long time and after waiting a while Dr. Bridges said they would just call me if there were any problems.  He expected they would be fine.

Thanks to "MyChart" I was able to access them later and seemed ok to me.  My hemoglobin was up from 11.2 to 12 (normal range is 12-15) so that was good.  My hematocrit was up from 32.2 to 34.9 (normal range 36-48) so getting close to normal.  My red cells were 3.97 (normal range 3.5-5.5).  They had dropped over time but were always within normal levels.  My white cells were 3.8 which was lower than I expected (normal range is 3.8 to 11).  When they tested my blood before my last chemo they were 11.4.  Through my chemo treatments they had been higher than normal thanks to the Neulasta shots.  I assume the Neulasta has worn off and maybe the after-effects of chemo depressed them some and they will go up a bit over time.  At least that's my medical opinion...

No one called me so guess I'm good to go.  I will follow-up again with Dr. Bridges again on August 25.  By then I will have been on Tamoxifen for a couple months.  He wrote my prescription for it but I'm not supposed to start taking it until after I finish radiation.  He said I could even wait until after the Fourth of July if I want.  I might wait until after Tara's wedding just in case I have any weird side effects.

I discussed with Dr. Bridges the annoying hot flashes I've been having.  He asked if there was a particular time of day they seemed the worst.  Not really... I get them in the morning, afternoon, evening, and they usually wake me up a couple of times at night.  He said there are a some medications I could take that might help, but he would recommend trying acupuncture first.  I like to avoid any unnecessary medications and so I'm glad that he is on the same page.  Honestly, if taking a pill was my only option, I don't think I would do it.  They are really bothersome, but I can live with it.  I asked when they might go away?  Maybe when my period comes back... will it come back?  He said, given my age, it would probably come back... if I was in my 40's it would be less likely.  But he said it could take at least 6 months.  So who knows... guess I'll just try to be prepared at all times.  I have an appointment with the acupuncturist next week on June 3.

Then he said, "We talked the Tamoxifen and it's side effects, right?"  I said yes, oh, and the most common side effect is hot flashes, isn't it.  Yep.  Then he asked if I remembered how long he recommended I take it.  How could I forget... 10 years sounds like such a long time.  The good news is I would be done taking it before I turn 50... I guess that's good?  Seems kind of depressing.  So the problem is, yes, my cycle might resume, but by then I'll be taking tamoxifen... likely causing it's own hot flashes.  I'm hoping that they might be different (less intense at least!) since they will be caused by the medication rather than right now, they are caused by my chemically induced menopause.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I will have really minimal side effects from the medication, which is typically how I am with other medications.

Ten years... in 10 years it will be the year 2025.  I will be 47 years old!  It will be the year of Juan's 30 year high school reunion.  The craziest part... Claire will be 17!!  She'll be finishing her Junior year of high school.  She'll be thinking about where she wants to go to college.  Even Bryce will be teenager in 10 years!  I think about all the things that will/could happen in the next 10 years...  Will we still live in the same house?  The same city?  What vacations might we take?  Will I still work at the Red Cross?  What new babies might have joined our (extended) family?  What loved ones might we have lost?  And then it hits me... I'm assuming that I will still be around in 10 years.  I can't imagine I won't, but once you have any type of cancer you never know.  If you go down that road things really get depressing... think of all the things you could miss out on.  I think that by completing all my treatments (surgery, chemo, radiation, and then hormone therapy/tamoxifen) my chance of still being around is over 90% (maybe like 96%?  I can't remember exactly) so the odds are in my favor, and I prefer not to dwell on any other outcome.

And then 10 years doesn't seem so long.  When you realize you are hoping to be alive for at least 40+ more years... the perspective suddenly shifts.  Taking tamoxifen for the next 10 years is definitely less depressing than getting cancer again, or even worse, not being here to take it.

Radiation Continues (12 of 33)

I'm already in my third week of radiation.  Today marked one dozen treatments completed... only 21 to go!  So far I haven't had much for side effects.  My skin might be a little bit more pink on the right side, but it's not very noticeable.  I've been putting on lotion anytime I have bare skin at home (basically when I'm changing clothes that means).  Tomorrow I will see Dr. Kuhn for my weekly visit with her.  This is the cabinet of gowns that I have to put on for radiation each morning.  I wear the teal ones.

This is the hallway that takes you to the radiation room.  You can't see the bright orange tape very well... I guess it's the threshold to the danger area!

My port incision seems to be healed. The steri-strips haven't fallen off yet so I can't see what my scar will look like yet.  I'm supposed to just let them fall off... if they are still hanging tight next week I might have to help them a bit.

Port Removal: Complete

On Friday (May 15) I had my port removed.  I don't regret having it during chemo, but I was not sad to see it go.  It was almost 3 months to the day from when I had it implanted.  Once it was all healed in there, the worst part was my seat belt would rub against it when I was driving.  Also, it just felt kind of creepy when my hand would brush over it.

I got to see Dr. Livingston one more time as she was the one to remove it.  I did not have to be put under anesthesia or any type of sedation, but it was performed in an operating room down at St. Luke's.  Beth accompanied me for one more surgery.  I had to check in at 7:30 am; the procedure was scheduled for 9 am and would take about 30 minute.  I checked in at the hospital just like my other surgeries and had to do most of the same pre-op stuff.  I didn't have to get an IV or talk to an anesthesiologist at all, and I didn't have to have those plastic things on my legs.  And I could leave my contacts in.  I did have to wear a hospital gown (and nothing else) and they monitored my vital signs and all that.  Dr. Livingston popped by to say hello while I was still in the pre-op and shortly after that they wheeled me back to the OR.  (I'm hoping these will be the last pictures of me in a hospital gown in the pre-op for a LONG time!)

 This ride was a little different because I was completely aware and hadn't had any "relaxing" medicine like the other times.  I chatted with the nurses and learned there are 17 operating rooms in the basement at St. Luke's.  There are four more on another floor for open heart surgery and I think three on the labor and delivery floor... just in case you wondered about that.  The OR doors are interesting.  They are metal with frosted glass (or plexi?) and the slide open with about three panels on each side.  I was in one of the very back operating rooms so got to see lots of doors.  Finally we arrived at my room.  They keep the OR nice and chilly.  I was told the reason is because once all the lights are on and when everyone has on the proper gowns, masks, gloves, etc. you can get pretty warm.  Also there is some thought it helps with the sterility.

They had me scoot onto the operating table and then piled probably at least four heated blankets on me.  It felt really good because it was cold!  I had already been warned they would have to restrain me, but that it was just for safety reasons.  I was picturing restraints like you see on crazy people in the movies but it wasn't like that.  There was a strap over my thighs and then for my arms there was a purple sheet under me than hung down on each side.  They wrapped the ends around each arm and tucked them in some special way.  They said they didn't want me to try and help with the surgery... or try to scratch an itch or something like that.  I asked if they do this when the patient is asleep... yes they do.

I think a couple of the nurses in the room must have been newer, or maybe it was just their first time where the patient was not under anesthesia, because there was one nurse who was explaining a lot of things to them.  Also she was saying things like, "Now, when the patient it awake like this it's good to make sure and talk to them and explain all the things you are doing and sounds they are hearing.  The doors are loud, the table is loud, and so on."  Of course I had to pipe in and say that yes, for me at least, I am less nervous when I know what to expect.

They hooked me up to a heart monitor and I had a blood pressure cuff and that finger/oxygen thing on my finger.  One of the nurses then warned me she was going to put this "grounding" pad on my leg and it would be cold really cold.  I asked, "Ground, like for electricity?" and she said yes, it was just in case they needed to cauterize anything.  She wasn't kidding about it being cold!  But once it was on I didn't notice it.

I'd heard Dr. Livingston used to perform this procedure in her office.  She said she did, but it was so much easier to just do it at the hospital because all the supplies were there and also it was easier to ensure a sterile environment.  She said there are some patients who opt to be put under anesthesia, but it's really not necessary.  When the nurse had called me to schedule the procedure I was a little nervous to think I'd be awake while being sliced into, but she assured me it would be fine.  I didn't want to have to be under anesthesia if I didn't have to and felt I could handle it.  There at the hospital I didn't ever feel too nervous.  It was nice to not have to put my body through anesthesia sedation.

A nurse cleansed the surgical site with iodine.  It was cold and drippy.  The next step was to place all of the drapes.  So I couldn't actually see anyone or anything because I was under this blue drape.  The part that went over my head was clipped to some poles on either side to keep it off of my face and there was one nurse whose job was basically to keep the fabric/paper off my face with her hand and to help me if I had an itch on my nose or anything like that.  She also reminded me to not forget to breath.  From what I could hear, the only thing left exposed was a triangular shape around the port which was near my collar bone.  I asked what the port looked like and they said they could save it and show me when the procedure was completed.

Dr. Livingston said she was ready to go and the first thing she would do was she would numb the area with a local anesthetic.  There was a slight pinch and sting when she started, but it didn't take long before I couldn't feel anything.  I have no idea when she actually made the incision.  It was kind of crazy because while she was working we chatted... she asked if I had plans for the weekend and the summer.  At one point, she asked a nurse what happened to the music?  There was kind of elevator music that had been playing.  Just then it came back on.  I said how I never thought about them playing music in the OR.  She said oh yes, and some doctors play some pretty heavy rock and roll but she just likes something relaxing and how the background noise is nice.

She explained that the first thing she was doing was removing some sutures that had been holding the port in place.  I didn't realize it was stitched in there, but she said they do that so that it can't flip over and then the nurses would be unable to access the actual port.  I could sort of feel a little pulling or pressure but nothing painful.  I'm not sure when she actually pulled the whole thing out.  The next "feeling" was this really weird sensation that I don't know how to describe.  It was weird.  A few moments later she said that my port was officially out.  I was so happy to hear that.  A tear slipped onto my cheek.  Dr. Livingston stitched the incision with dissolvable sutures, then a couple steri-strips followed by a dressing with tegaderm over it so I can shower and not worry about it getting wet.  I'm supposed to leave the dressing on and not do any heavy lifting for five days.

A few minutes later I was all closed up and they took the drapes down.  I was so glad because at this point, with the warm blankets and a couple hot flashes I was burning up.  Now the coolness of the OR felt great!  I thanked Dr. Livingston again for everything and she wished me well.  A couple nurses came in to get me moved to the post-anesthesia care unit (PACU - I know what it's called because that is where my sister-in-law Sarah works, but not on Fridays of course).  They were all prepared with a board to move me from the operating table to a bed and we quite surprised to find a patient that was wide awake... so I was able to move myself onto the bed. 

They wheeled me back to the PACU where it took longer to complete the paperwork then for me to be ready to go home.  I had a soda while I waited.  It probably took about 15-20 minutes and then I was released to go.  I didn't even have to ride in a wheelchair and was able to walk out on my own.  Beth and I went to grab an early lunch and then she went with me to my radiation appointment.  It was like a field trip... she got to see how they position me and all the machines and go in the control room with them when they administer the radiation. 

Back at home I got Bryce down for a nap and then I took a nap myself.  My incision site has been a little tender but not bad.  I've taken some ibuprofen off and on and iced it a few times.  A couple more days and I can take the bandage off.  A few... ok 6... more weeks of radiation and I'll be done with that, too!

Conversations at Radiation

As I was leaving after my radiation appointment the other day the woman just arriving complimented me on my hat (the pink one with all the ruching I bought at the very beginning).  I remember seeing her at chemo a few times back when she was wearing hats.  I thanked her and complimented her on her cute hair.  It's shorter than when I had my short cut, but she has HAIR!

I asked when she finished her chemo.  She finished almost exactly a month before I finished.  She said it was weird and that it just seemed like all of a sudden one day she had a thick stubble of hair on her head.  She said it was blonde before and now it silver and curly, but that she's liking it short and she's not going to dye it.  I'm think she's a bit older than I am but still afraid mine might all grown back silver, too.  Hers looks really cute, but I think if mine is silver (doesn't silver sound nicer than gray, by the way?) I will have to dye it at least for a few years!  I think I need to at least be in my 40's before I have completely gray hair.  She said she had lost most of her eyebrows and lashes as well, but they were coming back too.  So there is hope for me!  Her advice was be patient, give it a couple weeks and I'll probably notice it growing back.

Maybe in a few more weeks I'll be able to tell my hair is all growing again.  The minimal hairs left on my head are growing, but there just aren't that many of them.  They feel kind of icky when they get longer so I've shaved them shorter a few times... I might keep doing that until it all starts growing in.  It might be weird if I have some hairs already growing that are longer than the others.  I helped shave some of Juan's head this morning and was reminded how thin mine really is... it feels like there is more when I touch it with my hands.  But after shaving his with the clippers, I was reminded it doesn't feel (or look) anything like a normal person.  Even though I'm pretty used to my bald head, I was looking back at some pictures from when I still had my normal hair and I think I look better with at least some hair.  Let's reminisce:

Hair in the fall before cancer came to town (note, Juan still bald):

Pre-chemo hair cut (I've had so many people say I looked good with short hair and even had quite a few people tell me when my hair comes back I should keep it short.  I liked it short, too.  I know everyone means it as a compliment and that is how I take it, but it does make me wonder if I decide to grow my hair longer will people be thinking, "Too bad she grew her hair out... it was so cute short."  I don't know what I'll do with it at this point when it comes back.  I'll just be happy to have it again!):

My shaved head before most of the hair fell out (oh my gosh, it looks so thick!):

The cute wig I never wear/wore (I think about wearing it.  I put it on sometimes.  I like how it looks.  I don't like how it feels and at this point it feels weird to suddenly have hair so I end up taking it off.):

The way I've spent much of the last few months... wearing a hat:

At this point it's probably 50-50... I wear a hat 50% of the time and nothing the other 50% (body temperature has a lot to do with which one!):

Radiation: 2 down, 31 to go

I started radiation yesterday.  If I don't miss any of my treatments (33 of them) I should finish up on June 25.  It's kind of crazy to think I'll be doing this every day (except weekends) from now until then.

At my first appointment they took some additional "pictures" - both x-rays and actual photographs... of my boob... Awkward?  A little.  Now I know what the radiation room and machine looks like.

Here's the process... check in, then walk myself back to the radiation waiting area and changing room (yesterday I had someone show me the way so I wouldn't get lost).  Change into a gown - top only, I get to leave my pants and shoes on.  Put clothes and purse into a locker and then move into the next waiting area.  A radiation tech (not sure what they are actually called) calls my name and walks me back to the radiation room.  On the way you cross some semi-ominous looking bright orange tape on the floor.  Also note that it has a door that is at least 12 inches thick... I assume they close it while they actually administer the radiation.

On my first day, Jerry, the tech, showed me "the control room" as I called it, which is where they are while I'm in the other room being radiated.  It had lots of computers and he showed me the "pictures" they took during my simulation.

Then we went into the radiation room.  The first thing I'm supposed to do each day is look at a computer screen to verify that my name and picture are on the screen.  It's a picture from back when I had hair... long hair!  But it's still me I suppose.  Next I have to take my gown off and just hold it over my chest while I lay down on a table/platform that is covered with a sheet.  It has a head rest and handle bar thing behind that to hold onto with your hands.  One of the techs (it takes two) puts a foam support thing under my knees and another thing around my feet so that I don't accidentally cross my legs.

The next instructions are for me to lay completely still, relaxed, and to let my body be "heavy" while the techs adjust the sheet to get my body in the exactly perfect position.  This is where my tattoos and those lasers (they are green lasers) come into play.  The techs are one on each side of me and pull the sheet to get my body just right.  I'm not supposed to "help" them... just lay there heavy and let them do the adjusting.  It doesn't take long.  Then they use the computer to set up the machine.  They say numbers  (like "drop to 96") that I suppose are like coordinates or something and correlate to how the machine needs to be positioned to aim the radiation at the correct spot.  The table I am on moves up and down and also swivels.  The radiation machine is like a big arm thing that rotates around the table so that it can aim at any spot.  Once everything is exactly right the techs go into the control center and I just have to lay there completely still.

At my first appointment they had to do some other things once I was in position but before the radiation.  They drew what reminded me of photo corners around my treatment area (that would be my breast) with a green marker.  Then they took some x-ray pictures with the same machine that does the radiation.  Then at the very end they took a few digital photographs.  This is one of my photo corners... the other top one was actually on my back, right under my arm and the other two were down below.

The actual radiation pretty weird because you can't see anything.  You can't feel anything.  But you know something is happening.  The only thing is the machine makes kind of a buzzing noise.  Then after a couple buzzes it rotates 180 degrees (I think... I can't really tell for sure because as I mentioned, I'm not allowed to move).  Then it buzzes a couple more times.  Then the techs come back and I'm all done.

Once a week I will meet with Dr. Kuhn after my treatment.  On those days (and the first day was one of them) I am supposed to just leave my gown on, grab my things from the locker, and wait in the first radiation waiting room for a nurse to come get me.  At this appointment she gave me some gel that I can put on but said that "Udderly Smooth" lotion which you can buy in any regular store actually works better.  I'm supposed to slather it on the entire treatment area (inside those photo corners) every day.  Maybe more than once?  I can't remember and didn't take any notes.  She said I probably won't notice anything for at least a couple weeks.  Eventually the skin may be more pink and you can have side effects like when you get a sunburn.  Hopefully if I can remember to put the lotion or gel on it won't get to uncomfortable.

The rest of the days I just pop in for the radiation treatment and then on with my day.  Today they did take a couple more pictures but I think I was in and out in a little less than 30 minutes.  In the waiting area there was a woman who was there for her final treatment... I'm probably taking over her time slot is my guess.  There was another woman who was also there for her second treatment just like me so we'll probably see each other again.  She said she lives in Oregon and so she is staying with a friend in Star while she does her radiation.  I'm very thankful we live so close MSTI... it makes it a lot easier that way!

This is my calendar for the next 7 weeks:

Here is some other exciting news, this Friday (May 15) I am going to have my port removed!  I will not really miss it.  I am glad I had it because it made the infusions really simple (although maybe I wouldn't have had any problems with IV... guess I'll never know).  This time Dr. Livingston will get to see me with no hair.  She's seen me with my long hair, my short cut, and now this.

The procedure will be in the hospital at St. Luke's downtown but I don't have to be put under anesthesia.  Apparently they do it in the operating room, but they can just use a local anesthetic to numb the area.  She will make a small incision and remove the port and then use dissolvable sutures to close it up.  It's a lot easier to remove the port than to put it in because they don't have to get it positioned just so and get the tube into the vein... she just has to pull it out.  Vicki (her nurse) said some people do elect to have full anesthesia but it's not necessary.  It's a little unnerving to think about being sliced into, but I'm sure I can handle it and seems much better to not put your body through the whole anesthesia thing if you don't have to.  I figure if I'm feeling really nervous they can give me something to help me "relax" if absolutely necessary since I'll be in the hospital.  I have to check in at 7:30 am and the procedure is scheduled for 9 am and supposed to take about 30 minutes. Vicki said I could drive myself and would be fine to go to work after the procedure but it seems like you should get to take the day off for something like this and so I am going to do that.

They were able to move my radiation appointment to 11:30 am on that day so I don't have to miss a treatment day.  I'm glad to have this next phase in progress now.  It almost feels like it's going to take longer than chemo did... 33 treatments where chemo was only 4 treatments but it will actually take about half as long.  Maybe by the time I get to number 33 I'll have a little more hair on my head!