Last week I had my post-op appointment on Tuesday, January 20. Everything looked good and was healing the way it was supposed to. Dr. Livingston's PA wanted me to wait another week before resuming all "normal" activity and lifting more than 10 lbs. He said my skin was great and they would do surgery on me anytime (but I hope not anytime soon or ever again!). I was very happy I got to spend another week resting and healing and hanging out with Bryce (and trying to remember not to pick him up!) and Claire. My big frustration of the week was dealing with the benefits/leave administration people from my work but that is another story and all worked out.
Monday, January 26 was my first day back to work, but I had to come in late because I had an appointment with Dr. Kuhn, my radiation oncologist, first thing in the morning. I really liked her so that was good. I have to say I've been so happy with all my doctors.
Just as I suspected, I didn't come away with a concrete plan for radiation because we are still waiting for the Oncotype results. I did come away with a lot more information about radiation though. Dr. Kuhn said she believes that most likely all my cancer was removed in the surgery, but that being said, I should definitely still do radiation (I already knew this so not a big deal).
Radiation does not have horrible side effects like chemo can. She said it can cause physical changes to the skin that is radiated (that would be my breast in this case) that are similar to a sunburn... peeling, even blistering, and also the skin can just feel and look a little different. It can make you feel tired, especially over time, but she said someone "healthy" like me she would guess I might have 90% of my normal energy. There are a few risks involved, but she reassured me that the low dose of radiation I would be receiving can not cause cancer, it will be just enough to kill any undetectable cancer cells that could still be hanging out in my breast. Also I will be getting my first tattoo... they put a little dot/marker on you so that the machines are lined up right every time so the radiation goes in the exact same place.
The thing about radiation is that you have to do it every day Monday through Friday for 6 to 6-1/2 weeks (or maybe even a little more in my case). Every day! It doesn't take long... 15 minutes and then once a week I'll meet with Dr. Kuhn and that appointment might take a little longer. We live really close (like 5 minutes) from St. Luke's/MSTI Meridian so that will be convenient. And at least you get weekends off!
Right after I was diagnosed with this stupid cancer the news had a story on new research about a shorter course (3 or 4 weeks) with stronger dosage of radiation being just as effective as the traditional 6 week course. I asked Dr. Kuhn about this and she said that yes, it has been proven to be just as effective at preventing recurrence, however, we don't know yet about the long term side effects of the higher doses or radiation and also the appearance of the skin over time will not be as good. So for someone young and otherwise healthy like me she would not recommend it. She said if I was 80 years old then it would be fine or if I had to travel a long distance for treatment it might be worth weighing the risks and benefits. She said in my case, she would even consider a slightly longer course with lower dose which could lower the long term risks even more. This makes sense because I am planning to live a lot more years!!
Dr. Kuhn said I couldn't start radiation until at least 4 weeks after my surgery, so waiting for the Oncotype results will not hold anything up. If it turns out I don't have to do chemo, I'll probably start radiation mid-February. If I do have to do chemo, I will do it first, and then could start radiation a few weeks after that wraps up.
Juan asked Dr. Kuhn her opinion about chemo should my Oncotype score come back in the intermediate range. I was glad he thought to ask her this. Her short answer was basically that she would say I should do it... that were she in my shoes, she would... that I should consider the risks of course and determine where I fall on the spectrum of "I'm going to do everything possible to prevent this from ever happening again" vs. "I do not want to go through chemo even if someone holds a gun to my head" (that is not actually her quote but my interpretation). I have an idea where I am on the spectrum.
And so now, I continue to wait.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
Post-Op and Next Steps and More Waiting
Tomorrow I have a post-op appointment at my surgeon's office. Recovery has been going well. The hard part is really forcing myself to not do too much at this point. I've been feeling pretty good but can tell if I have been reaching too much or lifting things that I shouldn't (like the world's cutest 3-year-old) and things like that. It's not bad, like maybe a 1 or 2 on the "pain scale" but just the fact that it's there at all sucks and sometimes at night it's kind of achy. Our new memory foam mattress topper feels really good when I lay down and it kind of cradles around my arm/side and body, I'll tell you that! I'm also getting good use out of the many boo-boo ice packs we have for the kids. They are the perfect size and feel good on my weird numb skin. Also, I'm kind of tired of wearing a bra (even a really comfy one) 24-7. But not tired enough to not do it... it definitely feels better to have one on! I wore just a tank top the other night but decided I will wait a while more before doing that again.
My surgeon was pretty amazing. According to the pathology details the "mass" she cut out of me and sent to the lab (including margins) was 5.5 x 4.7 x 2.2 cm. I realize that's pretty small, but as far as I can tell there is no dent or anything like that and the line of the incision is tiny. I'm sure the location helps too. The tumor was on the side near my armpit - "10 o'clock" on my boob "clock" - where there is lots of tissue and also not too far from the chest wall. The lymph nodes were a lot smaller but same thing. I'm not going to lie, once I was home I kept thinking about how I was thankful that I was able to have a lumpectomy. Every time I was in front of a mirror I would think how different I would be feeling if I no longer had breasts. If my situation had been different and it would have improved my prognosis I would have done it without hesitation, but I can only imagine how difficult it would be emotionally and also physically. I have a huge respect for any woman who has gone through it.
On Friday I met with my oncologist, Dr. Bridges. I liked him. He was personable and easy to talk with, had a sense of humor, and also seemed to know what he was doing (always a favorable trait in a doctor). He is my medical oncologist who deals with chemo and eventually hormone therapy.
He said, "So, do you know why you're here? What I'm going to talk to you about?" I said, yes that I thought he would go over my final pathology report and that I hoped he was going to tell me I wouldn't need chemo (because no cancer in my lymph nodes so *fingers crossed* no chemo, right?).
Unfortunately, he did not tell me that. Damn!!! He didn't say I would definitely need chemo either, so that's good I suppose.
Instead we talked about the Oncotype DX test (which I was somewhat familiar with and had on my list of questions). It's a genomic test that looks at 21 genes in my cancer and how they behave in order assess my risk of the cancer returning and if I could benefit from chemotherapy. The test assigns you a score that indicates if your recurrence risk is low, intermediate, or high.
My cancer was changed to Grade 2 in the final pathology. It was Grade 1 in the original biopsy. Grade refers to how abnormal the cells are and is related to how aggressive the cancer is (1 being the closest to normal and 3 being highly abnormal). So unfortunately when they had more cells to look at they were a little worse than originally thought. The size hadn't really changed, it was still 1 cm. It's definitely hormone receptor positive (strongly positive he said with 95% of cells being positive). It's HER2 negative (although it's possible this could change as they will retest HER2 status when they do the oncotype test).
Dr. Bridges said my cancer is officially Stage 1. (I think it was Stage 1A plus some other letters that I didn't write down and now can't remember. Oops.)
Regardless of being Stage 1, which I am very happy about, according to my doctor and the NCCN (National Comprehensive Cancer Network) guidelines I may benefit from chemo depending on my oncotype score. In fact, my oncologist said if this test didn't exist, he would recommend chemo for sure.
I have this sinking feeling my score will come back in the intermediate range which means I may or may not benefit from chemo, but my doctor said he would recommend it unless my score is in the low risk end.
And so that means I am back to waiting for test results. The Oncotype DX test takes about two weeks to get results back. Even though waiting is really, really difficult, I am thankful that this test exists as I think it's relatively new (10 years?).
I will meet my radiation oncologist on January 26 and then I have another appointment with the medical oncologist on February 3. Hopefully at that point we can get my treatment plan nailed down and start moving forward, again...
My surgeon was pretty amazing. According to the pathology details the "mass" she cut out of me and sent to the lab (including margins) was 5.5 x 4.7 x 2.2 cm. I realize that's pretty small, but as far as I can tell there is no dent or anything like that and the line of the incision is tiny. I'm sure the location helps too. The tumor was on the side near my armpit - "10 o'clock" on my boob "clock" - where there is lots of tissue and also not too far from the chest wall. The lymph nodes were a lot smaller but same thing. I'm not going to lie, once I was home I kept thinking about how I was thankful that I was able to have a lumpectomy. Every time I was in front of a mirror I would think how different I would be feeling if I no longer had breasts. If my situation had been different and it would have improved my prognosis I would have done it without hesitation, but I can only imagine how difficult it would be emotionally and also physically. I have a huge respect for any woman who has gone through it.
On Friday I met with my oncologist, Dr. Bridges. I liked him. He was personable and easy to talk with, had a sense of humor, and also seemed to know what he was doing (always a favorable trait in a doctor). He is my medical oncologist who deals with chemo and eventually hormone therapy.
He said, "So, do you know why you're here? What I'm going to talk to you about?" I said, yes that I thought he would go over my final pathology report and that I hoped he was going to tell me I wouldn't need chemo (because no cancer in my lymph nodes so *fingers crossed* no chemo, right?).
Unfortunately, he did not tell me that. Damn!!! He didn't say I would definitely need chemo either, so that's good I suppose.
Instead we talked about the Oncotype DX test (which I was somewhat familiar with and had on my list of questions). It's a genomic test that looks at 21 genes in my cancer and how they behave in order assess my risk of the cancer returning and if I could benefit from chemotherapy. The test assigns you a score that indicates if your recurrence risk is low, intermediate, or high.
My cancer was changed to Grade 2 in the final pathology. It was Grade 1 in the original biopsy. Grade refers to how abnormal the cells are and is related to how aggressive the cancer is (1 being the closest to normal and 3 being highly abnormal). So unfortunately when they had more cells to look at they were a little worse than originally thought. The size hadn't really changed, it was still 1 cm. It's definitely hormone receptor positive (strongly positive he said with 95% of cells being positive). It's HER2 negative (although it's possible this could change as they will retest HER2 status when they do the oncotype test).
Dr. Bridges said my cancer is officially Stage 1. (I think it was Stage 1A plus some other letters that I didn't write down and now can't remember. Oops.)
Regardless of being Stage 1, which I am very happy about, according to my doctor and the NCCN (National Comprehensive Cancer Network) guidelines I may benefit from chemo depending on my oncotype score. In fact, my oncologist said if this test didn't exist, he would recommend chemo for sure.
I have this sinking feeling my score will come back in the intermediate range which means I may or may not benefit from chemo, but my doctor said he would recommend it unless my score is in the low risk end.
And so that means I am back to waiting for test results. The Oncotype DX test takes about two weeks to get results back. Even though waiting is really, really difficult, I am thankful that this test exists as I think it's relatively new (10 years?).
I will meet my radiation oncologist on January 26 and then I have another appointment with the medical oncologist on February 3. Hopefully at that point we can get my treatment plan nailed down and start moving forward, again...
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Pre-Op: Part 3
After my "wire loc," I was deposited in the pre-op area and a friendly nurse immediately said hello and admired my "fancy" pink gown. Then another nurse said, ok, so now that you are here if you would like to and are capable of walking, you can. I took him up on this. He weighed me and asked some standard health questions and then took me to my "room" where I would wait until surgery.
He had me changed into a new gown (and nothing else) and then put those things on my legs that help make sure you don't get a blood clot during surgery. I think the worst part about waiting for the surgery was sitting there and feeling kind of sticky/sweaty because you are naked and then have these things on your legs.
A little later another nurse came over who was in charge of the rest of my pre-op stuff. It was the one who had commented on my fancy pink gown. Her name was Lucy and she was really nice and interesting, too. She moved to Boise from Uganda 30 years ago to get away from the dictatorship. I really enjoyed talking with her. She asked me more questions and got my IV started. Next came the anesthesiologist who asked even more questions and walked me through her process and what to expect when I woke up.
The Dr. Livingston stopped in to say hello and tell me they were almost ready for me. I have liked her from the start, but I could tell, there in her OR scrubs she was really in her element. She and Lucy knew each other well which I kind of liked. She complimented the films from the breast care center, asked if I had any questions which I really didn't at this point . Then she put her initials on my shoulder and said she'd see me in the operating room. I love all the advanced medical technology we have and yet at the same time they still do things like this, I assume to make sure it's the right patient before they cut you open. I have to say, I'm glad they seem to have lots of things in place to make sure, regardless of how advanced or basic the process is!
Then Juan and my parents got to come back to wish me well. Lucy started setting up all the injections of drugs I was going to get and got some "relaxing" medication started. It made me feel a little loopy/floaty My family bid me farewell and then they wheeled me into the operating room. I was with it enough to scoot myself onto the operating table. Then they put a mask over my mouth/nose and told me to take deep breaths.
Then I woke up and said, "Did I already have my surgery?" because of course it felt like I'd closed my eyes about 2 seconds ago. A nurse said, yes, it was all done. That is such a weird feeling! Next thing I knew Juan and my folks were back with me. I felt a little nauseous but it seemed to pass away so I declined the nausea medication the nurse offered so she removed my IV. Of course a couple minutes later I totally thought I might puke and asked if I could get that medication after all... well since my IV was out they had to give me some pill that just dissolved in your mouth. It did the trick.
I must have been just sitting there spacing out because a nurse asked, "So... what do you want to do?" I answered, "I want to go home." So Juan helped me get my clothes on and then a guy with a wheelchair showed up. My parents had the car ready and waiting and we went home.
Interesting side note... during the surgery they injected me with blue dye to help locate the sentinel lymph nodes and so that evening the skin around my bandage was bright blue. It looked like someone had put blue marker all over me and I actually thought it was on the outside. Then I totally peed blue (which I had been warned would happen so I wouldn't freak out). But when it happens it's hard not to feel a little freaked out because it was REALLY BRIGHT BLUE LIKE THIS. By the next morning my skin was not blue and everything else got back to normal, too by the end of the day.
We even got back in time for Claire to go to gymnastics class. Thank you so much to Dawn for watching Bryce all day and then Claire after school that day. And thank you again to everyone for all the positive thoughts and prayers that day (and too many other days to count!). Thank you for the flowers and gifts, too!
And last but not least thank you so much to my amazing parents who have spent the last week with us doing pretty much everything there is to do here. Feeding us, helping with baths and school and child entertainment... I think you deserve a vacation after all the hard work you've done here. Oh wait, you do get a vacation very soon... mahalo!!
He had me changed into a new gown (and nothing else) and then put those things on my legs that help make sure you don't get a blood clot during surgery. I think the worst part about waiting for the surgery was sitting there and feeling kind of sticky/sweaty because you are naked and then have these things on your legs.
A little later another nurse came over who was in charge of the rest of my pre-op stuff. It was the one who had commented on my fancy pink gown. Her name was Lucy and she was really nice and interesting, too. She moved to Boise from Uganda 30 years ago to get away from the dictatorship. I really enjoyed talking with her. She asked me more questions and got my IV started. Next came the anesthesiologist who asked even more questions and walked me through her process and what to expect when I woke up.
The Dr. Livingston stopped in to say hello and tell me they were almost ready for me. I have liked her from the start, but I could tell, there in her OR scrubs she was really in her element. She and Lucy knew each other well which I kind of liked. She complimented the films from the breast care center, asked if I had any questions which I really didn't at this point . Then she put her initials on my shoulder and said she'd see me in the operating room. I love all the advanced medical technology we have and yet at the same time they still do things like this, I assume to make sure it's the right patient before they cut you open. I have to say, I'm glad they seem to have lots of things in place to make sure, regardless of how advanced or basic the process is!
Then I woke up and said, "Did I already have my surgery?" because of course it felt like I'd closed my eyes about 2 seconds ago. A nurse said, yes, it was all done. That is such a weird feeling! Next thing I knew Juan and my folks were back with me. I felt a little nauseous but it seemed to pass away so I declined the nausea medication the nurse offered so she removed my IV. Of course a couple minutes later I totally thought I might puke and asked if I could get that medication after all... well since my IV was out they had to give me some pill that just dissolved in your mouth. It did the trick.
I must have been just sitting there spacing out because a nurse asked, "So... what do you want to do?" I answered, "I want to go home." So Juan helped me get my clothes on and then a guy with a wheelchair showed up. My parents had the car ready and waiting and we went home.
Interesting side note... during the surgery they injected me with blue dye to help locate the sentinel lymph nodes and so that evening the skin around my bandage was bright blue. It looked like someone had put blue marker all over me and I actually thought it was on the outside. Then I totally peed blue (which I had been warned would happen so I wouldn't freak out). But when it happens it's hard not to feel a little freaked out because it was REALLY BRIGHT BLUE LIKE THIS. By the next morning my skin was not blue and everything else got back to normal, too by the end of the day.
We even got back in time for Claire to go to gymnastics class. Thank you so much to Dawn for watching Bryce all day and then Claire after school that day. And thank you again to everyone for all the positive thoughts and prayers that day (and too many other days to count!). Thank you for the flowers and gifts, too!
Friday, January 16, 2015
Pre-Op: Part 2
January 8th was the big day of my surgery. I had to check in at 9:45 am. I had a bit of an entourage with Juan, my parents, and Beth there with me. The check-in person said it was ok because I had a "village" but not a "city." After check-in someone took me over to the Breast Care Center. I feel like a regular there, as that is where all the mammograms and biopsies have been performed.
Today I was there for my "wire localization" which is basically where they insert a wire into your boob. It was pretty much exactly what I was thinking it would be and when it was finished I literally had a thin wire sticking straight out of me. Beth said it looked like a guitar string. They did sort of bend it down and put a bandage over it when all was finished so it wouldn't stab me.
They use ultrasound to locate the tumor and then the radiologist uses a hollow needle (the wire is inside the needle) to get right through the center of the tumor. They make the wire go all the way through the tumor so its point is beyond it and then remove the needle, leaving the wire behind. Of course they numb it all up before any of this. Here is how great I was looking while I waited for the procedure. And yes, those are my boobs on films in the background. I don't have much modesty anymore.
Then they took some pictures with the ultrasound which the surgeon uses during the surgery. I also got to have two more mammogram pictures taken after the wire was placed, also for use during surgery. I learned they do this procedure because it helps the surgeon to ensure she removes all the bad tissue and margins around it (or at least much more likely to get it all and not need a second surgery). That black spot in the photo below is my cancer (good riddance!!). After the procedure there was a white line going through it. Those lines below the black spot are the muscles on the chest wall.
I got to see all my new "friends"... Candy the ultrasound tech and Julie the nurse who have been there at my previous procedures. I don't know if they really remember me, but they make me feel like they do which is kind of nice. I also got to meet Dr. X - the one who called me with my initial biopsy results and told me I had cancer. I was glad to get to meet her in person. I'm not sure she thought it was very entertaining when I told her this. Regardless, I could tell she is really good at what she does and she was willing to answer my myriad of questions and explain why they do this procedure. She may have even smiled once or twice.
After all the films were approved, I got to take a wheelchair ride back over to the main hospital. My entourage went into the waiting area and I went right into the pre-op area to meet my next round of nurses and get all ready for the actual surgery.
Today I was there for my "wire localization" which is basically where they insert a wire into your boob. It was pretty much exactly what I was thinking it would be and when it was finished I literally had a thin wire sticking straight out of me. Beth said it looked like a guitar string. They did sort of bend it down and put a bandage over it when all was finished so it wouldn't stab me.
After all the films were approved, I got to take a wheelchair ride back over to the main hospital. My entourage went into the waiting area and I went right into the pre-op area to meet my next round of nurses and get all ready for the actual surgery.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Pre-Op: Part 1
On Wednesday (Jan. 7th) I had my sentinel node dye injection. Thank you again to Beth for accompanying me! One of the best things about this visit was when I told one of the techs who my surgeon was, he said, "She's great. She's who the other doctors send their wives to see." My nurse navigator had made this exact same comment so now I believe it really is true!
We checked in at St. Luke's and then went down to Nuclear Medicine (NucMed, I learned the insider lingo from my sister-in-law who is a nurse there). A nice tech named Brian led us into the room with all the equipment and gave me a gown to change into (just for my top, I got to keep all the bottom stuff on). However I had to take off my boots because I have this thing that I don't like being topless (even with a gown) but having shoes on. It just feels wrong.
Then I had to wait just a bit for a doctor to come to do the actual injections of the radioactive isotope. Here I am waiting on the strange camera contraption.
We asked Brian lots of questions which he was great at answering. This machine/camera uses gamma rays to detect all sort of things. In my case it would show where the radioactive isotope (tecinium or something like that) was traveling in my lymph system.
Dr. Citrone got there and I lay down and the fun began. Now when someone tells you that you have to get two injections into your nipple, you are NOT excited. It sounds like it would be extremely painful. But I can now tell you from (my own at least) experience that it actually isn't as bad as as sounds. They numb it first and it doesn't take long at all and then you just lay there under that camera and wait... I had been told it could take anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. The worst part was probably keeping my arm above my head all that time, but lucky for me everything was traveling in my lymph system quickly.
Right away there were two big white dots on the camera screen. Brian said those were where the injections were. Then after several minutes there was another, slightly smaller white dot. Brian said that was most likely a lymph node but you have a wait because it could also be a bend in the channel. In my case it did end up being a lymph node. Then Brian made a sort of "chalk" outline of my upper body. He had a little thing that had some of the radioactive substance in it and slowly traced around me while under the special camera. This way the camera recorded my outline and gave the doctor reference points on the pictures. Weird!
A little later the doctor returned. This is where the process gets really technical. He basically used a sharpie to put a great big purple X-marks-the-spot where the lymph node was located. Then they put some tegaderm tape over the X (looks like saran wrap) to make sure it wouldn't rub off before the next morning. That probably wasn't necessary because I still have purple marker on me. And that was it... Brian told me that the radioactive substance they use has a short half-like (I felt pretty smart because I kind of remembered what that meant!) and so it leaves your system fairly quickly, but it lasts long enough that it would still be in my system for the surgery the next day.
So I was officially radioactive (well they said not really) but whatever. Beth and I decided we should "celebrate" this with a drink so we stopped for a margarita. She started to worry when I got a freeze headache and thought maybe it was dangerous for me to have alcohol when I had that substance still in me. Luckily though, it really was just a freeze headache and then it was gone.
My parents got in to town right around the time we finished our margarita and so then my mom joined us to get a pedicure (mom is not a pedicure virgin anymore!). That night we had dinner together at Sockey and then home to bed.
We checked in at St. Luke's and then went down to Nuclear Medicine (NucMed, I learned the insider lingo from my sister-in-law who is a nurse there). A nice tech named Brian led us into the room with all the equipment and gave me a gown to change into (just for my top, I got to keep all the bottom stuff on). However I had to take off my boots because I have this thing that I don't like being topless (even with a gown) but having shoes on. It just feels wrong.
Then I had to wait just a bit for a doctor to come to do the actual injections of the radioactive isotope. Here I am waiting on the strange camera contraption.
Dr. Citrone got there and I lay down and the fun began. Now when someone tells you that you have to get two injections into your nipple, you are NOT excited. It sounds like it would be extremely painful. But I can now tell you from (my own at least) experience that it actually isn't as bad as as sounds. They numb it first and it doesn't take long at all and then you just lay there under that camera and wait... I had been told it could take anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. The worst part was probably keeping my arm above my head all that time, but lucky for me everything was traveling in my lymph system quickly.
So I was officially radioactive (well they said not really) but whatever. Beth and I decided we should "celebrate" this with a drink so we stopped for a margarita. She started to worry when I got a freeze headache and thought maybe it was dangerous for me to have alcohol when I had that substance still in me. Luckily though, it really was just a freeze headache and then it was gone.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Quick After Surgery Update
Everything went really well with my surgery and I'm happy to have that part done with. I have been home recovering and letting everyone take good care of me. One day I will have time (or more realistically energy) to tell you all about my experience (mostly so that I can remember... you might not really want to hear about it).
I received wonderful news today that my pathology results were done and I had clear margins (which means no cancer in the "margins" of tissue surrounding the tumor) and also that my lymph nodes did not have any cancer cells present.
I also was able to remove my bandages today which felt really good. It's weird because the skin there is like numb, but tender all at the same time. Thankfully I haven't had much pain. I did take some strong painkillers the first few days but then felt like I didn't need them anymore. As long as I remember not to reach too far or bump into anything I barely notice it.
On Friday I have an appointment with my medical oncologist.
Thank you again so much to everyone who has been thinking or me or sent me a little something to help bring cheer. I can't tell you how much it means to me and my family. And of course we are especially thankful to my parents who are taking such good care of me and keeping our kids entertained to boot!
Love, shana
P.S. Happy Birthday to Bryce who is THREE years old today!
I received wonderful news today that my pathology results were done and I had clear margins (which means no cancer in the "margins" of tissue surrounding the tumor) and also that my lymph nodes did not have any cancer cells present.
I also was able to remove my bandages today which felt really good. It's weird because the skin there is like numb, but tender all at the same time. Thankfully I haven't had much pain. I did take some strong painkillers the first few days but then felt like I didn't need them anymore. As long as I remember not to reach too far or bump into anything I barely notice it.
On Friday I have an appointment with my medical oncologist.
Thank you again so much to everyone who has been thinking or me or sent me a little something to help bring cheer. I can't tell you how much it means to me and my family. And of course we are especially thankful to my parents who are taking such good care of me and keeping our kids entertained to boot!
Love, shana
P.S. Happy Birthday to Bryce who is THREE years old today!
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Sugery Tomorrow
Tomorrow is my surgery! Today I got to have radioactive dye injected into my boob. It actually was not as bad as it sounds and didn't really hurt at all. My sentinel lymph nodes have been identified and I have a very large purple X-marks-the-spot under my arm so the doctor knows where to slice in. I'll tell you all about this interesting procedure later.
This morning I stopped into Fred Meyer because it was suggested I have a bra that opens in the front. I only found one option and it had a big zipper which I didn't like or think would be that comfortable. I found another one that I liked, seemed comfortable and sort of sports-bra style that fastened in the back so at least I wouldn't have to pull it over my head. I figure someone can help me close it if I really can't do it myself. It cost a little more than I really wanted to spend so I checked the clearance rack.
It just so happened they had several sizes of the exact same bra on the clearance rack. Everything on the rack was an additional 40% off making them cost less than $20... more what I was hoping for.
There was one problem.
They were all pink.
I didn't really want pink. This is so dumb, but I didn't want the nurse or whoever helps me get dressed to be thinking, "Oh, isn't that sweet. She has breast cancer and so she has a pink bra to wear to her breast cancer surgery." I tried the pink bra on. It fit exactly like the gray one (of course it did because it was the exact same bra except for the color!).
I put in in my basket and thought, who cares if they think I have a pink bra just because I have breast cancer. That really doesn't matter and it's stupid to spend extra money just because I don't want a pink bra. Maybe I should wear a pink bra.
Then I looked at the PJs and other things. And the whole time I was feeling really annoyed about that pink bra. Maybe because none of my regular bras are pink? They are neutral colors. Then I found some cute PJs with bird cages on them.
And then I put the pink bra back on the clearance rack and grabbed the gray one even though it was silly. And also because it matched the new PJs better.
P.S. The PJs were on clearance so at least I got a deal on them!
P.P.S. I really do like the color pink, and I appreciate the significance it holds for breast cancer research and support and those things. But buying a new pink breast cancer bra was just too much for me apparently.
P.P.P.S. Thank you so much to everyone who gave me a call, sent an email, etc. today to let me know you were thinking of me. It means so much to me! Love shana
This morning I stopped into Fred Meyer because it was suggested I have a bra that opens in the front. I only found one option and it had a big zipper which I didn't like or think would be that comfortable. I found another one that I liked, seemed comfortable and sort of sports-bra style that fastened in the back so at least I wouldn't have to pull it over my head. I figure someone can help me close it if I really can't do it myself. It cost a little more than I really wanted to spend so I checked the clearance rack.
It just so happened they had several sizes of the exact same bra on the clearance rack. Everything on the rack was an additional 40% off making them cost less than $20... more what I was hoping for.
There was one problem.
They were all pink.
I didn't really want pink. This is so dumb, but I didn't want the nurse or whoever helps me get dressed to be thinking, "Oh, isn't that sweet. She has breast cancer and so she has a pink bra to wear to her breast cancer surgery." I tried the pink bra on. It fit exactly like the gray one (of course it did because it was the exact same bra except for the color!).
I put in in my basket and thought, who cares if they think I have a pink bra just because I have breast cancer. That really doesn't matter and it's stupid to spend extra money just because I don't want a pink bra. Maybe I should wear a pink bra.
Then I looked at the PJs and other things. And the whole time I was feeling really annoyed about that pink bra. Maybe because none of my regular bras are pink? They are neutral colors. Then I found some cute PJs with bird cages on them.
And then I put the pink bra back on the clearance rack and grabbed the gray one even though it was silly. And also because it matched the new PJs better.
P.S. The PJs were on clearance so at least I got a deal on them!
P.P.S. I really do like the color pink, and I appreciate the significance it holds for breast cancer research and support and those things. But buying a new pink breast cancer bra was just too much for me apparently.
P.P.P.S. Thank you so much to everyone who gave me a call, sent an email, etc. today to let me know you were thinking of me. It means so much to me! Love shana
Monday, January 5, 2015
Sunday Morning
I’m still cozy in bed reading a new book when Claire comes in my room. “Mom, you do not want to see what Daddy’s watching,” she says very seriously.
I roll my eyes and ask what he is watching, expecting it’s something completely inappropriate for a 7-year-old… like South Park or Walking Dead or something like that. She tells me, “Mom, it’s Stuart Scott. He had cancer. And mom, he died. You do not want to see it.”
I try to think… Stuart Scott? The ESPN guy? Or is there a football player with that same name? No, I think he’s the SportsCenter guy. I have to go verify exactly who he is because even though SportsCenter is often (aka nearly always) on our TV, I didn’t realize he even had cancer. As I walk into the living room I see his face on the TV with two dates and yes, it is the ESPN announcer that I was picturing. Juan’s on the couch and he looks pretty sad. Probably because Stuart Scott was a cool guy, “Booyah!” and all that, but I’m sure the reasons are deeper than that. It makes me sad, too; I go back to the bedroom.
Claire follows. “Mom, are you going to cry?” she asks. I say that it is really sad. She mentions again that he had cancer. I can see the wheels turning in her little head… putting the connections together. “Mom, are you sad because of your boob?” she asks. She isn’t upset, more curious. I do my best to explain there are lots of different kinds of cancer and Stuart Scott had a different kind than I do, but also that sometimes people still don't get well. I tell her that’s why I’m having surgery, so the doctor can get bad cancer cells out of my body. And I will do some more things after the surgery and take medicine to kill any bad cells that are left and hopefully it will never come back.
"Mom, Stuart Scott was 49," she tells me. Yes, I say, that's older than me and dad but pretty young to die. "Well, it's part of life and every life has to end sometime," she says. I have to smile. I know this is something we told her when our cat Berman, came to the end of his nine lives back in September.
She snuggles up close to me while I read. Every so often she asks, “Mom, are crying?” or even tells me, “Mom, it looks like you are going to cry.” I’m actually not, but the book I’m reading is at a sad point, so I’m having that feeling where you are about to to cry but trying not to and your eyeballs really hurt because the tears are right there. It really is because of the book, but it is also because of cancer.
I roll my eyes and ask what he is watching, expecting it’s something completely inappropriate for a 7-year-old… like South Park or Walking Dead or something like that. She tells me, “Mom, it’s Stuart Scott. He had cancer. And mom, he died. You do not want to see it.”
I try to think… Stuart Scott? The ESPN guy? Or is there a football player with that same name? No, I think he’s the SportsCenter guy. I have to go verify exactly who he is because even though SportsCenter is often (aka nearly always) on our TV, I didn’t realize he even had cancer. As I walk into the living room I see his face on the TV with two dates and yes, it is the ESPN announcer that I was picturing. Juan’s on the couch and he looks pretty sad. Probably because Stuart Scott was a cool guy, “Booyah!” and all that, but I’m sure the reasons are deeper than that. It makes me sad, too; I go back to the bedroom.
Claire follows. “Mom, are you going to cry?” she asks. I say that it is really sad. She mentions again that he had cancer. I can see the wheels turning in her little head… putting the connections together. “Mom, are you sad because of your boob?” she asks. She isn’t upset, more curious. I do my best to explain there are lots of different kinds of cancer and Stuart Scott had a different kind than I do, but also that sometimes people still don't get well. I tell her that’s why I’m having surgery, so the doctor can get bad cancer cells out of my body. And I will do some more things after the surgery and take medicine to kill any bad cells that are left and hopefully it will never come back.
"Mom, Stuart Scott was 49," she tells me. Yes, I say, that's older than me and dad but pretty young to die. "Well, it's part of life and every life has to end sometime," she says. I have to smile. I know this is something we told her when our cat Berman, came to the end of his nine lives back in September.
She snuggles up close to me while I read. Every so often she asks, “Mom, are crying?” or even tells me, “Mom, it looks like you are going to cry.” I’m actually not, but the book I’m reading is at a sad point, so I’m having that feeling where you are about to to cry but trying not to and your eyeballs really hurt because the tears are right there. It really is because of the book, but it is also because of cancer.
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