Happy Halloween

Halloween is a strange holiday . I can never understand people celebrating death, blood, being scared and viewing images of gore. My daughter wanted to try out a spooky corn maze in our area. She went with two adults and a friend. When she returned home, she was full of excitement talking a mile a minute. "Oh mom, you should have seen the guy in the camo outfits. He was so tall and peering down at me making funny comments; The lady tied to a chair, covered in blood screaming 'don't come into our farm, momma don't like that!'  She explains that the actors in the maze listen carefully for people's names so they can address you, creep up and scare you. "But mom, they can't touch you." She likes that part.

I feel a little sad that I didn't go. She had a wonderful time, and I wasn't there to share it with her. It's in these precious moments with your child that you realize how short your time is with them. I don't like to be scared or see gore, but I would have enjoyed seeing her have so much fun. I've made a mental note to do this maze with her next year, even though it's not my thing. Spending time with your kids creating special bonds is the most important thing you can do for them.

Happy Halloween,
M

Why Me?

The Pity Pot
Do you ever have moments in your life where you stand on your little pity pot, shaking your fist in the air, and cry, "Why me?" Well, I do. Lots. Before I discovered I have breast cancer, I was battling the bulge around the middle and a very stubborn shoulder injury that still refuses to heal properly. Wha, wha..poor me. I spent numerous hours exercising, doing physical therapy, charting my food intake, and counting calories. I was determined to get well and be out of constant pain. I went to my doctor and had lots of blood tests done. I asked my doctor, "How come I'm so tired all of the time? I don't sleep. I'm grumpy. My heart races, and I'm feeling anxious. Can I have some drugs now please?"

Stress Causes Disease
Part of the answer to these questions is that we have busy lives and are stressed out. Every bit of research and magazine you pick up now a days will pontificate the evils of stress. Stress causes diseases. I've had some time to think about this lately and ponder the things that have happened in my life since leaving a very secure job six years ago. I had carpel tunnel in 2006, which is why I had to leave my job. Looking back, it was the extreme stress in the job that caused the carpel tunnel. Stress that was self-induced. I was uptight, miserable and hated everyone and everything about the job. Why couldn't I just let things go? Why did I have to be so controlling?

Good questions. Why?

Live Life in the Now
Well, as I approach the tail end of my 40s, I realize that life is short. Wow, what a revelation! My kids are almost out of school and about to enter college. Why am I still not happy? What is my purpose in this life?
What do I want to be when I grow up? News flash for me; I need to stop living in the past and future and start living in the now. I don't know if living this way has been a protection mechanism that extends from a dysfunctional childhood, but I'm old enough to understand  that it's all in the past. I'm wasting the now with my hang ups and worries, and with cancer I only have now. It's a short life. I'm going to live it and continue going for my crazy dreams such as writing a novel. My point? Stop don't dreaming just because you're middle age (if you are that is). If you're not, then ignore people who don't believe in you.Surround yourself with those who do and who love you just as you are. For everyone: WHO CARES WHAT PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU!  Be authentic. Be true. Love life. Do good. Do what is right. If you do, then all the rest will fall into place.

Peace out!
M

Keeping The Mind Occupied

I'm presently working on a novel of 50,000 words for a global contest called the NaNoWriMo, which is short for National Novel Writing Month. It occurs every November 1st through the 30th. The NaNoWriMo is a non-profit organization which has been encouraging writers since 1999. It's a great way for me to take my mind off my diagnosis and focus on a meaningful pursuit that can be accomplish from anywhere.

Many of you know I was pursuing a career as a Physical Therapist Assistant. I haven't given up on that, not yet at least. I just don't know if I'll have the energy to take on a full school load or not next year while recovering from radiation. In the meantime, I'm hopeful on exploring my love of writing and seeing if I can make some money on the side by writing for magazines, newspaper, online news sources, blogging, etc. Who knows where this little adventure will take me.

What new adventures are you exploring?

Top 10 Worst Ways to Break Cancer Diagnosis News to Your Family

Don't worry, I haven't lost my mind. This is me flying my middle finger at cancer! Whoot, Whoot!

#10: Wear an "I've Got Cancer" t-shirt around the house.

#9:   Using overly intricate (and thoroughly confusing) means:
        -Spouse: Honey, you don't look so well. Are you feeling alright?
        -Response: Well, if by 'are' you mean 'do', and if by 'feeling' you mean            
         'have' and if by 'alright' you mean 'cancer', then the answer is yes, I                
         most certainly do.

#8:   The Relativity Approach:
        "Well honey, I got fired from my job for sleeping with the cleaning                  
         lady, who apparently gave me HIV. You should get yourself checked               
         out ASAP. Ha ha, just kidding about that...by the way, I have cancer.

#7:   On the Jumbotron at a sporting event.  (what the heck is a Jumbotron?)

#6:   Through clever subtleties:
        Spouse: Do you have Billy's basketball schedule for next week?
        Response: I'll tell ya what I don't have...the ability to properly regulate         
         cell growth and proliferation anymore.

#5:   "Alright everybody, raise your hand if you DON'T have cancer."           
                (raising your hand at first, then slowly dropping it as everyone watches)

#4:   Make your family play connect the dots with your twisted logic:
        "Ya know, I was thinking about what a horrible disease that cancer is            
         and how Fate must really hate someone to inflict such a horrible curse           
         on them.  Well, apparently Fate hates me."

#3:   Via text message. ( omg! ive gt cancer. not kewl. ) oops..did that one..sorry Dawn.

#2:   Vanity license plates:  [2MR GUY], [KEMO GAL], [CNCR SUX],[CNCR FITR]


And the #1 worst way to break cancer diagnosis news to your family:

"Knock-knock" ... "who's there?" ... "I have cancer."  Um..okay?

These Top 10 funnies found at:http://www.cancerisnotfunny.com/top10worstwaytobreakthenews.html

What is it like to have a breast MRI?

Breast MRI Machine
Carol Milgard Breast Center, Tacoma WA

Call me a freak, but I thought having a Breast MRI was  fascinating. The MRI technician was a great sport in allowing me a quick picture on my cell phone before I left. This is not what your usual MRI scanning room looks like. I had two earlier this year and the room was quite plain. This room has pink wallpaper, pink pads that you lay on and a pink design on the underside of the circular tube you lay in.

Here's how it went. I change into a gown, no bra, undies only and socks. They gave me a fuzzy robe to wear while I was waiting for the room the be setup. One of the forms I had to sign was about a 'contrast' solution that was going to be injected into me for the MRI. I met with the tech prior to going in because I wanted to know what kind of 'contrast' solution they would be injecting me with. My tech said that it is a solution that is mostly saline with no harmful chemicals or side affects.

A 'butterfly' type of portal was put in my arm before I climbed aboard. Basically, it likes an IV, but much smaller and less painful. A few pictures were taken before the saline was put into my body to see before and after pics. About half way through the 20 minute MRI, they injected me with the saline. It didn't hurt, but felt a little creepy. I kept imaging the flow of the solution and where it was travelling in my body. Too many anatomy and physiology classes this past year.

I was asked what kind of music I liked, because you wear ear plugs and headphones during the procedure. The ear plugs are because the machine is quite loud. Sometimes I could hear the music, mostly it was so the tech could communicate with me. I appreciated that most of all. He would give me the time left in the hole throughout.

I digress, back to the beginning. I climb the little stairs you see in the picture. I lay with my feet facing the giant donut hole and extend face down on the extending platform. My gown is open in the front. I lay on my stomach and my breasts are hanging in between two openings. I kind of felt like a milking cow. It was relief though, because I had quite a bit of bruising from the biopsy and was nervous about laying on my stomach. Since my shoulder injury, I haven't layed on my stomach in over a year. Yeah, I'll taking milking cow position thank you very much.

The technician's assistant, a female, assists in getting me comfortable on the platform table. She offers a pillow for my feet and adjusts my headrest down a bit, which took pressure off my back and a warm blankie if I want it. I declined. I get hot flashes when I'm nervous. I was plenty warm once enclosed in the donut. Next, she inserts the ear plugs and puts on the headphones, music is already playing. I'm given a squishy ball device that you squeeze to signal you want to be taken out if you panic or feel too claustrophobic.

Cool. I'm all set. Not a worry. I've done these already. I'm a pro. Um...not so fast. As soon as I was cocooned in, I felt an immediate rush of panic. I took a deep breath and kept my eyes closed telling myself that this was only for 20 minutes. Concentrate. There's enough air. All is fine. This reaction surprised me. I've never experienced any kind of claustrophobia before. Perhaps because I was face down and couldn't see much. Either way, the feeling passed within a minute or two and I completed my time without further ado.

I started playing games in my mind with the different sounds this contraption makes. Sometimes it went Pow, pow, pow....really fast and loud or it would vibrate slightly. Nothing scary, just surprising how loud it was.

I'll be scheduling an appointment with the surgeon's office as soon as they get my MRI results.

Stay Tune!

What's a Mammotome and other Misc Stuff

I image the hardest part of any disease is the 'not knowing' stage you have to endure while waiting for your blood tests, biopsy results, diagnosis, MRI's, outcomes of surgeries, etc. It certainly has been the case with me. My mammogram was performed on Sept. 23, 2010. I received a letter in the mail stating my results needed further examination. I was asked to do another mammogram on the side noted to look abnormal. A radiologist reviewed that mammogram immediately and recommended I have a biopsy right away. I had the biopsy done the following week. I should have waited before being cut into and researched about what they were going to do before going in, because now I'm in "we've got to move ahead and not wait around anymore" mode.

I had the biopsy done on October 14, 2010 and received a call from my doctor two days later that I was positive for Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. This is the earliest stage of breast cancer and has a 90% chance of being cured. Here's a bit of info of what a  Mammotome biopsy procedure is like.

The Mammotome is a machine with a gun-like extension that has a tool that a surgeon inserts into the breast tissue to gather samples from clustered areas of calcification's noted on the mammogram. The surgeon has exact locations utilizing the x-ray from the mammogram prior to taking the samples. You are seated in a chair the entire time. The breast is situated in the same contraption used to perform mammograms. This part was uncomfortable, because I had to remain very still and have my breast squished for over 30 minutes. A local anesthetic is given to numb the entire area. I mostly felt slight pressure during the sampling. After the surgeon finishes collecting samples, a tiny marker is then inserted into the areas sampled. Prior to my Lumpectomy, I will have a tiny wire inserted into the breast which will be attached to the marker inserted during the biopsy. Using the wire, attached to the marker(s) are then triangulated to  located  the precise area of the tumor with some surrounding tissue that will be removed during a Lumpectomy.  I joked with the surgeon and asked her if I would make airport scanning machines buzz. She said no. The material isn't that detectable.

The procedure only requires a small incision without stitches. The freakiest part is you are awake. It was recommended I take some anti-anxiety medicine if I tended to feel queasy or nervous about the procedure and to not eat anything the morning of. I was thankful that I only had some juice, because even though I didn't feel scared during the procedure, when it was over, I was very dizzy for about an hour and had to put my feet up. The nurse said this was a normal delayed response to trauma. Some patients even pass out during the procedure. Looking back, I wish they would have also suggested that I have someone drive me as well. The recovery hasn't been as bad as I expected. I have some fairly large bruises, but this is mostly just blood pooling in the lower half of the breast.

Next Tuesday, October 26, 2010 I'm scheduled for a breast MRI. This will detect in greater detail any more clusters of abnormal looking breast calcification's. A surgeon will need the MRI in order to remove of the tumor and surrounding tissue in a procedure called a Lumpectomy.  After this procedure, the next step is radiation. That is all I know at this point.  How much pain will I be in after a Lumpectomy? Will radiation kill the cancer and any precancerous cells lurking around in my breasts? Sometimes too much research can be a scary thing.

Comfort for the Tears

"God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain.  But he did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears and light for the way."

Thank you cousin, Mary. A breast cancer survivor!

October 18, 2010 Diagnosis & Follow Up

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on October 18, 2010. I'll always remember this day. Not for sentimental reasons, but because it's one of my sister's birthday. Sorry sis. But hey, I'll never forget your birthday right? I was sitting in my car outside of our local Starbuck's when my cell phone rang. I saw it was my doctor's office and figured I'd better answer it. I was expecting a call sometime in the next few days regarding results of a breast biopsy I'd had the previous week. (I'll save that expereince for another post). My doctor broke the news to me in as gentle manner as possible. I was alone, and had an excellant cry.

It was a beautiful day. A rare day of sunshine in October in the Pacific NW. It's usually raining. Not on this day. No, it's incredible. People are smiling, happy and going about their day. Meanwhile, I'm in my car wearing my sunglasses to cover my red eyes.  I start the engine and head home. Once home, I text, Bob to share the news. He asks if I need him to come home. No. I'm fine. (I need to be alone, call my sister, and my best friends).

My follow-up to the biopsy appointment was October 20, 2010. I meet with the doctor who performed the lovely little biopsy on my left breast, which for a few days was 1-1/2 times larger than the right breast due to swelling. It's an assortment of black, yellow, and green. Thankfully, the swelling is almost gone.

If any of you care to comment, please do. I want to know how you are doing!
Clean jokes welcome.

Love & Blessings!
M