Hot Flash On The Horizon

Tomorrow morning I part with my ovaries.  I really don't want to do this, but I sure as hell don't want ovarian cancer either. 

I like my hormones.  I got a small taste of life without them during "chemopause" and I didn't like it.  It's true that the hormones would be leaving me in the next couple of years anyway, but I would have preferred a gentle slide into menopause versus a hard smack in the face.  I'm one of those people that likes to slowly work my way into a cold swimming pool instead of diving in head first.  Tomorrow's surgery will be a big dive.

I'm not worried about the actual surgery.  In fact, it's kind of funny how non-chalant I feel about the procedure.  This is surgery number 4 in the period of 18 months; I'm an old hand at this now.  I've had a c-section and my uterus removed years ago so I know what to exect as far as pain goes.  This surgery is laproscopic so it shouldn't be nearly as bad.  But life without estrogen.... that's another thing all together.

I suppose I shall survive this too.

I was visiting Atlanta a few weeks back and a group of friends and I were walking in the downtown area afer dinner one night.  There were many homeless people in the streets and there were people sleeping on the sidewalk.  Little Rock has its share of homeless people but we have enough "green space" around that they seem to stay more hidden.  I don't have a great deal of exposure to the homeless.  Seeing a grown man sleeping on the sidewalk broke my heart.  So really - what do I have to complain about?  Losing my ovaries won't be all fun but at least I have a home, a job, plenty to eat, and friends and family that love me.

Well, let the hot flashes begin.

Milestone

Wow - I just realized that I have passed the one year mark of chemotherapy.  My last chemo was September 2, 2008.  Can it really be a whole year?

Can it really be a whole year?

It doesn't feel as if it was that long ago.  The feeling is still fresh in my mind and I'm still struggling to grow hair!  I guess it has taken me awhile to truly recover.  Plus - I've had two surgeries during the last year.  One more surgery to go....  but I just wanted to acknowledge how far I've come.

Whew.  I'm glad the chemo part is all behind me.  What a drag.  Remember my chemo mantra borrowed from Muhamed Ali? 

"Suffer now and live the rest of your life like a champion."

Well,  I'm feeling like a champion tonight!

No News Is Good News!

Well, I haven't posted here in awhile because.... there isn't much to report! Also, I am busier than a one-legged man at an ass kicking!

I am adjusting to the foobs and the way they feel. I have some minor tenderness still, but nothing to limit my activities. I am even sleeping on my stomach - something I thought I would never do again! The foobs feel very strange when I'm floating in water and sometimes the muscles contract weirdly when I am using my arms. I don't really know how to explain what I mean - mostly it's that I can feel the wave of the contraction move up and over the mound of my breast. Freaky! I am very pleased with the final outcome and am beginning to believe that one day they will actually feel normal to me. Each day I notice them less. I have one last follow-up appointment with the plastic surgeon and then I will be released from his care.

Since the exchange surgery, I have been having some memory issues. I'm having trouble recalling words sometimes and one day I couldn't remember the name of my favorite restaurant. I have trouble recalling recent activities and do that thing where I walk into a room and can't remember what I came to do. I miss a lot of turns while driving. I know all of you will say you do the same things, but this isn't your everyday forgetfulness... it's different. It is a deeper blankness than I've ever felt before. I simply can not remember. I'm not sure if it's due to all the anesthesia or a delayed chemo side effect. Lots of people talk about "chemo brain" and say that it can develop well after the treatments are done. There is even research now that validates the phenomena. I wouldn't say I am impaired - but I definitely feel the difference.

The oophorectomy (ovary removal) is still hanging over my head. I am dragging my feet and dreading the menopausal symptoms that will accompany it. I experienced "chemopause" during the chemo treatments and had severe hot flashes. I felt out of control and claustrophobic in my own body. It's those drenching sweats in the middle of the night that are most disturbing. I don't get it - why does my body overheat more so when I'm lying down than when I'm up and moving around? Sigh. I need to schedule an appointment and get it done.

The rest of life is busy. We went on a trip to Destin, Florida this summer and had a nice time. I got sun burnt trying to make up for the loss of all sun last summer! But in truth, it felt good. It made me feel alive and healthy and the opposite of a cancer patient.

Eli is back in school and we are reluctantly letting go of our summer hours and embracing the school schedule. And I am taking a class at UALR! It is fun and strange, all at the same time, to be back on a college campus. I am also chairing an event to celebrate the 50th anniversary of our sailing club which is consuming a great deal of my time at the moment. It feels good to be doing more things.

In light of all the health care debate, I am once again reminded of how lucky I am to have such good medical care available to me. Not only am I alive and healthy, but I was able to receive some damn good plastic surgery that makes me look and feel normal. What a gift for me!

Now that the majority of my "crisis" is over, I feel less compelled to post here. So if you don't see anything for awhile rest assured - no news is goods news!

Second Chances

If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it.
-Unknown

Softer Foobs!

The exchange is done and I have softer foobs! I didn’t feel immediate relief from those rock-hard expanders, but now that the swelling and tenderness is down, I can really feel a difference. Ahhhhh…. It feels so nice. It’s like taking off a pair of tight shoes at the end of a long day. Relief.

The hours leading up to my surgery were a little hectic. We left Eli at my mom’s house Sunday night as we had to be at the hospital at 5:45 a.m. Monday morning. Around midnight Eli called home crying in pain. He had a terrible ear ache - the result of swimming in lake water for a whole week at camp. Ben got dressed and took the poor boy some medicine and a pain killer to help him sleep. No sooner than Ben got home, his beeper started going off. Turns out he was on call that night. Two more pages came through meaning there was very little sleep between the hours of midnight and 5:00 a.m. Lucky for me (I guess you call it lucky), I got to be sedated and take a looong nap. Poor Ben had to struggle through the next 10 hours or so with heavy eyes.

The surgery was smooth with no problems. I had a little nausea when I woke up, but not too bad. For whatever reason, I had a harder time waking up from the anesthesia. I kept asking the same questions over and over again. As soon as I would ask the question, I knew I was repeating myself. None the less - I could not remember any of the answers! It was an odd feeling. (I wonder if that’s what it’s like to have Alzheimer’s disease??) Anyway, Ben and the nurse were trying to get me to sit up and put on my clothes yet I could barely open my eyes. I really felt like they were rushing me, but they both felt it was time for me to go! At one point, they pulled the pretty blue curtains all the way around my bed so I could get dressed in privacy. I got wildly dizzy and felt like I was swimming in a sea of blue! There was nothing specific for me to focus on and I really couldn’t tell which way was up! My whole upper body swirled around in circles searching for the center of my gravity. They had to open the curtains and let me sit for a few more minutes in order to get my bearings.

They wheeled me to the car with one eye open and gently shoved me in. I’m sure my head bopped all over the place during the car ride home because I couldn’t stay awake more than 2 minutes at a time! I slept comfortably on the couch the rest of the day and even slept there through the night. I was comfortable, so why move?

I can’t really remember the beginning of Tuesday morning, but as the day wore on, I became very aware of my fever - 101.5 to be exact. The pain in my breasts was mild, but the fever made me feel awful. It was reminiscent of chemo days - blah! My discharge instructions said to call if I had fever over 101, but I was reluctant. I had the same fever after my mastectomy and it left after 24 hours. I was pretty sure this fever was my body’s reaction to the trauma of surgery and not a sign of infection. I was afraid if I called the doctor, he would needlessly admit me to the hospital for iv antibiotics – and I certainly didn’t want to go there! Sure enough, around 5:00 a.m. Wednesday morning, the fever broke. It was a miserable 24 hours but I’m glad I waited it out.

Thursday morning I saw the doctor and got to take the bandages off. There was a slight problem with my incisions. They were inflamed and the skin around them was blistered. Turns out, I am officially allergic to Derma Bond – the glue they use on your skin during surgery. The doctor said in his 8 years of using Derma Bond in almost every surgery, I am only the 3^rd person to exhibit an allergy! They had to peel the Derma Bond off my skin (think of peeling off super glue stuck to your skin) which left some raw areas on my breast (no problem – I can’t feel). I am having to change the bandages every day and put an antibiotic gauze (Xeroform) over the blistered areas. They are already looking much better and I anticipate they will heal without additional scarring.

I went back to work this past Monday. Too sore to feel great – not sore enough to sit at home. I am fine; I just tire quickly. I took a 2 hour nap after work yesterday and still slept 8 hours that night! It takes a lot of energy to heal.

So how do I feel about my softer foobs? It’s hard to say. Yes – they feel MUCH softer and easier to tolerate. They are very even in size and shape, but one nipple is lower than the other and that kinda bothers me. And there is a bit of a dimple on the outside of the left breast. They are nice but…. well, they just aren’t what mother nature gave me and I’m not used to them yet. When I look in the mirror I don’t recognize my body. Over time, I will probably grow more comfortable with them. Right now, we are still getting to know one another. I had just grown accustomed to their overly perky profile. Now my eyes need to adjust to this more natural shape.

Like most humans, I don’t embrace change very easily. I like to think of myself as an easy-going, flexible individual. Truth is, I have a hard time dealing with most change. In fact, I am probably too complacent with the status quo and linger in places way beyond my time to be there. I think it is the Tao Te Ching that says, “Cling to nothing for nothing is constant.”

Guess the foobs are giving me a chance to work on that ;)

The Exchange

The exchange date has been set for June 22. On that date, the surgeon will remove the tissue expanders from my breasts and put in nice, soft implants. He will go through the same incisions from the first surgery and I don’t anticipate much pain. It is an out-patient procedure and I am expected to go home the same afternoon. I am sooooo ready… but it is still 7 weeks away.

Afer writing my last cranky post, I decided that part of the reason I was so uncomfortable is that I had over-expanded my breasts. The surgeon had been reluctant to add the last expansion injection, but I pressed him. Turns out he was right; I went too far. I could feel my breasts under my arms and I was beginning to have compromised chest strength. I went back to the surgeon and had him withdraw some saline and I immediately felt better. I am much more comfortable now. I even raced a sailboat this past weekend and my chest didn’t hinder or bother me.

Isn’t it funny that I can add or subtract saline until I find the size that’s right for me? Wouldn’t it be fun if I could change them on a daily basis based on my mood? Double D for a trip to the beach or maybe a small A cup for a dainty camisole… it’s an amusing idea to ponder.

Missing Parts

I miss my breasts.

There, I said it.

Don’t get me wrong, the reconstruction is going just fine and things look good. I have great doctors, I am happy and have no regrets about my decision. You might even call the perkiness of my new breasts an improvement over the old. Yet, they are very round-looking and they will never look like what mother-nature gave me.

I try to keep a good attitude about my Foobs (Fake Boobs), but the adjustment to this new body is hard. I know things will get somewhat better after we get rid of the expanders, but the truth is I miss my old body. Having the expanders is kinda like wearing a coconut shell bra UNDER your skin. On second thought – it is EXACTLY like that.

The foobs don’t move or bounce or jiggle. They are Barbie boobs. When I lie on my side, I’m used to my breasts draping towards the bed. Now they stick straight out like a metal Viking bra! The foobs get in the way of my arms sometimes and I still haven’t found the best position for sleep. It’s all very weird and uncomfortable.

I am including a picture of the expanders that are in my breasts. You can see the oval plastic collar and the metal ring. Think about having that under you skin! Again – I know the permanent implants will be softer, but I can’t see that it will be a drastic difference. I am truly, truly thankful and glad to have foobs versus no boobs, but I really, really miss my squishy, jiggly, movable breasts. A lot.

I miss my hair. The short hair makes me feel old and matronly and I have come to the realization that it will be another year before it has any length. Everyone said it would come back thicker than it was before, but so far, that is far from the truth. Sigh. The hair is very thin and I can still see lots of my scalp. I feel like Miss Jane from the Beverly Hillbillies! I have even taken to wearing hats again. Please, I loved my thick hair more than anything and I want it back – curly or straight, I don’t care. Just don’t leave me with a half bald head.

Come to think of it, the two things I have always liked best about my personal appearance were my breasts and my hair. Now they both have changed in a major way.

I am tired of being the cancer patient now and I want to get back to normal. The problem is, I can never get back to the person I was before the cancer. The sooner I let go of that idea, the better off I will be. So what is normal for me now? As you can see, I am having an internal struggle with the external presentation - among other things. So, if I see you, I will smile and tell you I am feeling much better these days (and I really am). I will tell you that I’m thrilled with the reconstruction (and I really am). But just know that there is still a part of me working to convince myself that I am happy with this new normal.

You may have heard the saying, “Going through the motions changes the emotions.”

Well... I’m going.

I Am Not My Hair

Let the battle begin! No - I'm not talking about a battle with cancer. I'm talking about the battle with my hair! I am finally beginning to get a good bit of hair on my head and it is wild. It is definitely curly and has a mind of it's own. It sticks out every which way it chooses and no gel or mousse can control it. I have bedhead extraordinaire!

I have pretty much given up hats and scarves, though I have to admit I feel kinda naked without them. I still wear them sometimes because my head gets cold and because I think I look strange with short hair. It's funny - but people are having trouble recognizing me! They are used to the hats and scarves and seeing me with short hair is a whole different look. You'd think after six months I'd have more hair than I do! That's right - it's been six months since my last chemo! It's gonna take awhile to get some length - and I wonder if it will ever be as long as it was before chemo. I don't recognize that lady in my mirror either.

But it is hair.... and it is progress.... and it will keep growing :)

The expansion process is going smoothly and I think I am done with injections. (It's kinda weird trying to decide how big you want your boobs to be...) I am pleased with the results thus far and it looks like the exchange surgery will be in late May or early June. They still feel very foreign on my chest but I assume they will eventually become a part of me. I am missing the way hugs used to feel. It now feels as if there is a pillow or something between me and the other person and I keep thinking I want to pull them closer. I hate that. Remind me that it is a small price to pay in order to have any hugs at all.

I forgot to mention that the feeling in my fingers has finally returned (thank-goodness!) but the toes are still numb. At my six-month check-up, the doctor said it could take up to a year for the toes to get better. I am used to it now and it doesn't bother me so much (hopefully the same will be true of the boobs someday) but I do wish they would re-gain feeling. Isn't it amazing, that six months later, I am still feeling side effects from those damn chemo drugs?

Ahhh... but it is springtime. The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. I put the top down yesterday and took a long drive out to the lake and soaked up as much vitamin D as I could. There is nothing like a good dose of sunshine to brighten my mood. I may be numb in several places, but I can still feel the sun and the wind on my face.

And it is glorious.



BTW - The title of this blog post, "I Am Not My Hair," is the title of a great song by India Arie. If you have a minute, check out this song and it's lyrics on Youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_YoiVKxLAQ

Cancerversary

Yesterday was my "Cancerversary." One year ago the doctor called to say the biopsy from my breast was positive for invasive ductal carcinoma. Upon hearing the news my husband said, “I’m sorry.” I replied, “Don’t say you’re sorry. Just say we’ll fix it.” In my head I was thinking a small surgery to remove the tumor… maybe a little radiation therapy. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine 6 rounds of chemo and a double mastectomy were in my future.

Wow - I can’t believe it's been a whole year! Thank you to everyone who has supported me and my family during this time. Your help and your words of encouragement mean more than you will ever know.

It has been a long journey and it isn’t over yet. I’ve learned a lot of things and accomplished many milestones. When I think back over the last year, there were some pretty bad days. I find that I am much stronger in many ways, more vulnerable in others.

It is difficult to process the journey of cancer and what it means for my life. Who am I now that I have survived cancer? What am I here for? What brings me joy? What is most important in my life? I've been granted this time; what do I use it for?

Those answers will come; I know they will. For now - I'm just glad to be here.

Here They Come Into The Stretch!

I love the horse races! And on President’s Day, I had good reason. I went to the races with my husband and some friends and walked away a pretty big winner. I bet on every race, ate and drank all day, and still walked away with $75 MORE in my pocket than when I began. Not bad, eh? I even hit a trifecta bet – that’s where you pick the first, second and third place horses all in the correct order! All in all, I cashed in 7 winning tickets! That’s what you call a phenomenal day at the track! We also got to see Old Fashioned (see photo) win the Southwest Stakes. That means he is now the leading favorite to win the Kentucky Derby – and who knows, maybe even the Triple Crown.

I wish I could say I won because of my genius ability to read the race form and calculate all the odds. I do know how to read the form and interpret some of the data – but let’s be honest – there’s an awful lot of luck involved! One time I bet and won money on a horse simply because I liked her name – Tricky Jo.

It occurs to me that treatment for cancer is a little like the horse races. You do the research, you weigh all the factors, you consider the odds, and then you choose the treatments that are best for you. I think I have done well in that department. I looked at all the options and made the wisest choices in my cancer treatment. I think I have done everything possible to eradicate the disease. But in the end, it still requires a little bit of luck. Did we get every cancer cell that was floating around my body? I sure hope luck is with me.

My mastectomy recovery is still going well, albeit a bit tiresome. Indeed, the first expansion rounded things out a bit and the second expansion is set for later this week. I have to say, these lumps on the front of my chest may look like boobs but they do not feel like boobs nor do they feel like a part of my body. It feels as if someone strapped two tin cans to the front of my chest with tight elastic straps and some days I am simply ready to take them off. Everyone swears the permanent implants will feel much softer and I sure hope they are right. I guess I need to adjust and set my own heart straight. These lumps will be with me until the end of May or the beginning of June. I still have a ways to go.

One of the best parts of the horse races is when you hear the announcer say, “And here they come into the stretch!” It means the horses are nearing the finish line. The tension builds and everyone jumps to their feet with excitement. Can the leader hang on? Who’s that coming up on the outside? People screaming, “Go horse! Go!” And then in a blink… it’s over.

I can’t wait for the day when I can say, “And here she comes into the final stretch of her cancer treatment.” It won’t be too much longer, but there are a few more months and a few more surgeries to go. And then in a blink – it will all be over.

Isn't it funny how I can turn even a fun day at the races into a cancer analogy? Ah well... this too shall one day pass:)