#1... is done!

It wasn't fun, but treatment #1 is done.  Friday was a marathon day.  Early to the oncology clinic for chemo class, then labs, then an hour long heart scan then the actual treatment.  I know to plan a little better for treatment day.  I need to eat small meals throughout the day to help with the nausea.  I felt good after the treatment and tried to drink a lot of fluids and walk, knowing that the sickness was about to hit.  It wasn't fun, but it could have been worse.  I was able to get out and about on Saturday.  Sunday was spent taking it very easy.  I rallied on Monday and went into the office.  I did pretty good and left a little early.  I'm just weak...more like, bone tired.  As chemo makes everything crash, the shot is helping my bone marrow rally and keep me on track so I can do this again in two weeks.

I mentioned to Walter and Scout that I knew what it meant to be bone tired.  Scout quickly reminded me that she biked almost six miles on Sunday and she is "really" tired.  Nothing like being put in my place by the seven-year-old.  Sheesh.

Another huge thanks for all the outpouring of support.  Our family appreciates it!

"Today will be your hardest day."

"Today will be your hardest day."  That's what my oncologist said to me yesterday morning.  I would have preferred that he said something like, "This will be a breeze, don't worry."

I'm not sure it was my hardest day, but it was a tough one.  There was a lot of shuffling.  Check in, labs, prep of my port with ladacane cream, chemo class, baseline heart ultrasound, meeting with my doctor and then the chemo suite.

Our timing was bad.  When we walked in it was busy and within five minutes of starting, there were two "events".  The patients were having really bad reactions to their infusions and all the nurses were rallying to get the patients heart rate and breathing up, etc.  Scary stuff.  Things calmed down and the room thinned.  They started me on pre-meds which is Benadryl, anti-nausea and saline.  After that the nurse came around the corner, dressed in a full-length heavy-duty gown, long heavy-duty gloves and goggles.  She was getting ready to administer one of the drugs, the "Red Devil".  She had two large syringes of a bright red drug - think super hero villain serum.  She has to wear all of the protection, because the drug will eat your skin, if it comes into contact with it.  Yup, and the drug got injected into the top of my heart.  Joy.

After the Red Devil, the second drug got hooked up and within an hour, I was done.  We hopped in the car, grabbed a bite to eat and headed home.  The weather was amazing and I got a hike in with Walter.  I took the anti-nausea meds as prescribed and laid down.  Things got a little rocky after that.  I was pretty nauseated, even with the meds.  It was unpleasant, but I never lost my lunch, so that was good.  Solid sleep came and things seem to be better this morning.

I'll swing by the clinic this morning to get a shot that will boost bone marrow function, which allows for me to be on a two-week schedule with the meds.  I've taken a Claritin, as the anti-histamine helps with the big bone pain that the shot can cause.

I'm hoping to get to my kid's first basketball game this afternoon and work on staying hydrated so this doesn't get me down.

Thank you to all that sent me words of love and encouragement.  I appreciate you all so much.

Thank you to my husband. He does such an amazing job taking care of me.  He is a good man.  If you know him, you agree.

So, fingers crossed that things stay good and I can stay on top of it all.

My bud, Mitch

Monday was my port placement.  I had tried to be efficient and cost-effective and have the port surgery at the same time as the axillary Disection, but that idea was shot down (I mean, really? Efficiency in health care...cray cray).  So back to the lovely surgery center to wear the awesome surgery smock, hair net and color-coded(by size) non-slip socks.  It was a slow day so I didn't hear any scandalous stories from behind the circa 1998-styled medical curtains.

Mitch, the nurse anesthetist, spent some time talking with us while we waited for the surgeon to be ready.  He timed the anti-nausea drug perfectly and I came out of anesthesia perfectly.  Someone had wrapped me up in multiple blankets, with one snuggled all around my head.  It was so much better than the last surgery when I woke up cold, stiff and thinking I had lost all feeling in my right arm (wait, I did lose feeling in my arm.  The feeling came back, eventually).  Oh, and I almost puked on a nurse that insisted on praying for me while I was trying to put on my too-tight yoga pants (lesson learned).  So a big thanks to Mitch for keeping us entertained while we waited and for taking good care of me while in dreamland.

Friday is the Chemo session 1/16.  Ugh.  My Oncotype test (DNA test of the cancer) came back with a high score.  The numbers correlated to a 30% chance of reoccurrence if I only take hormone therapy.  Not good.  The oncologist thinks we can cut those odds by half with chemo.  So, that's what I'll do.  Muscle through the chemo while trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy at work and at home.  When I mapped the weeks out on the calendar, it looks like I'll be done with chemo and radiation by the first of July.  Yeah!

A big thanks to my sweet mom, sisters and friends that came over Sunday and ate goodies, drank champagne, laughed with me, hugged me and watched my hair get cut short.  My dear friend, Laura, came out of retirement and did a fabulous job with my new short do.  So fortunate to have such a strong network of bad-ass ladies to prop me up, when needed.

A couple of more days of getting stuff done and making commercial banking magic happen.  Then.  Well, then I deal with a new normal for a while.  Not how I planned to spend my time and resources, but I'll deal with.  I'm strong.  I'm healthy (except for having cancer).  I have an amazing spouse and kiddo.  I have a great job with a great team.  I have amazing friends, neighbors, clients and all-around "good people".  I am fortunate.

Thank you to everyone!  I'll keep you posted.

Post-surgery with my sassy new hair and new glasses.

Standard Deviation

Another blissful week of having my good buddy, The Drain.  I'm just a few milliliters away from the goal, but it's not anything that can be rushed.  If we take it out too early, fluid could pool around the surgery site.  Due to my implants and lack of tissue, a needle excision is risky.  So...I'll be patient.  I did get released to drive and go back to work (yeah!).  It's good to be back in a routine and get back to making sh*t happen.  Trying to stay away from using my right arm is a little challenging.  I can use it, but can't pick up anything over five pounds or do anything strenuous.  It has made me realize how right-side dominant I am.

My oncologist sent my tumor off for another test.  The test analyzes the DNA of the cancer and then scores the risk of reoccurence.  If the score comes back low, then we may omit one of the chemo drugs from the cocktail.  I've struggled a bit with the anticipated results of the test.  Since they are calling this a reoccurrence, doesn't that prove that the chance of reoccurrence is high?  Not necessarily.  I could be at a low risk of reoccurrence, but still get it because I'm on the wrong side of the odds.  Ugh.  Remember how I was given a 3% chance of reoccurrence two years ago?  I should have purchased lottery tickets.  I don't want to have treatments that aren't backed by solid data, but I also feel like my situation is "special".  Don't we all?  I feel like we were so proactive and aggressive the first go-around and it still came back to bite me.  It is going to be harder this time to get comfortable with the longer-term plan.  I'll get there, but it is a little disconcerting right now.  I had a doctor tell me Friday, "Yup, you are a couple of standard deviations away from the mean on this."

So, now I just focus on Mr. Drain and getting healthy and healed before chemo starts.  I hope to have a couple of weeks of good rest, eating and running before the treatments start....oh, and study up on probability analysis.  

I'm also starting to think about my chemo style.  I know that sounds kind of silly, but it is more fun than thinking about odds.  I went for an eye exam and decided to pick out some new glasses.  When I asked the gal how the pair I picked out would look being bald, she said, "Oo, you are shaving your head too?!  I'm doing mine tonight".  Um, no.  A little different. It gave me a chuckle to think that the gal thought that I would be hip enough to voluntarily shave my head.  Due to the new known variable, we picked out some very "dramatic" frames.  They are definitely not your typical boring commercial banker frames, but I think they will be fun.  And, I have cancer, so who would give me a hard time?  I've also made plans for a fun, short hair cut prior to treatments.  I think it will be less emotional to lose short hair instead of the long hair I have now.

Thank you to everyone and the continued support and well-wishes.  I really appreciate everyone!

Recovery is so draining...,

I'm still at home.  I've come to realize that my expectations were too high about the recovery from this surgery.  I guess I thought that it would be similar to the Sentinel node biopsy I had when I had my first batch of surgeries in 2013.  Nope.  This one is a bit more involved.  The incision is across the inside of my armpit.  It's as if they scooped out a bunch of stuff and then closed things up smaller than before.  Oh, wait, that's exactly what they did.  I have a drain and thought that I might get it out on Monday.  Nope.  Not only am I healing from the wound, but my lymphatic system is trying to reroute itself since the nodes are gone in this area.  I hadn't thought about that originally and it does make sense.  One of the side effects that I am most worried about, is lymphedema, so taking time to heal properly is very important.

At home, taking it easy is not a strong suit of mine.  Yesterday I took it easy, real easy.  Most of the day was spent in bed.  I alternated between scrolling through social media feeds that told be to believe in myself, be the change I want to see, how to make Crock Pot freeze meals, blah, blah and watching six hours of Atlas Shrugged (nothing like some hardcore Libertarianism to make me feel better).  I woke at my usual 3:00 a.m. (due to a hot flash) and couldn't get back to sleep so decided to wash my hair.  Sure, why not.  I can't take a full shower until the drain comes out, so the kitchen sink it was.  Worked like a dream!

So, another day of taking it easy.  I'm thrilled.  Absolutely thrilled.

Thanks to everyone for all the kind messages and support.  We really appreciate it!

Let's Do Some Quilting

Happy New Year!

Excited about 2016?

Big plans?

I'm not a big formal goal-setter.  I try and live my life in a fairly purposeful fashion most of the time.  If I want to try something new or change something, I usually just do it, and usually without much thought or reservation.  Now, this doesn't mean that I just go off and do crazy things.  Remember, I'm a risk-mitigator, a pragmatist.  I plan for the "what-if's".  That's why this whole cancer reoccurrence is throwing me for a loop.  I really felt like the risk was gone.  So did ALL the doctors.  It felt good (and scary) to think about middle-age and maybe actually needing my long-term retirement. I had to remind myself it was a privilege to only have health ailments that included hot flashes and age spots and wrinkles.  I started planning differently.  Started thinking a little riskier in terms of longer-term planning.  Maybe I would venture out and do something a little atypical for good ole, stable EBJ.  Those thoughts aren't gone, just quieted for a while.  It's time to cocoon-up.  My good friend, Sarah Hood (you should read her blog-she writes good words www.sarahmhood.com), used this word the other day about a family that had a major change and they crawled into the family cocoon and insulated each other for a while (this is a metaphor-I haven't been quilting a ginormous family cocoon...although, there is probably a market for that somewhere).  It's a good thought.  Allowing those that care about you to wrap you up and help you grow through your transition.  And I have those people.  I don't know what I did right in my life to earn the love and compassion from so many.  The outpouring has been tremendous, again.  My heart swells.  Thank you for being part of my cocoon.

My surgeon called and the pathology results came back good.  Big tumor in the node we knew about and smaller one in another node, but all others were clear.  Yeah!  Sounds like he only took about ten, so my risk of lymphadema is lower.  Yeah yeah!

Thank you to all for all of the kind messages and gifts over the last couple of days.  I appreciate you all!

Happy New Year!  I can't wait to hear what exciting things you have planned for the year.

False Teeth

Yesterday was my axillary disection (aka: get rid of cancerous lymph nodes) surgery.  I spent the morning doing my pre-surgery routine.  Washing all the bedding, mopping the floors in the bedroom and bathroom, wiping everything down with Clorox wipes, making sure all my neccessities (remote, book, phone charger, chocolate covered cherries...) are within arm's reach of the bed.  I wasn't expecting a difficult recovery, but it's better to be prepared.

I was advised to get to the surgery center early since they tend to run ahead of schedule.  They weren't yesterday, so Walter and I got to sit in the pre-op area for quite a while.  The funny thing about that is that everyone going through surgery is staged in the same large room, with curtains dividing them.  I don't even know why HIPPA matters, as you can hear EVERYTHING everyone is saying.  Names, personal ID information, procedures, afflictions, etc.  I heard all kinds of things yesterday.  Popular topics:

Horses.  People like horses and so do nurses and doctors.  There was a lot of horse talk yesterday.

False Teeth.  You can't have surgery with your false teeth in, so the teeth come out and your family member gets to hang on to them.

Bad Jokes.  The older gentlemen seem to like to joke with the nurses and be slightly cantankerous.  Their material is pretty bad.

Crackers and Pudding.  There are big promises of a fountain drink machine with the good ice and all the crackers and pudding you can eat.  It sounds glorious while you're in pre-op and going on 15 hours of no food or drink.

The surgery went well, "textbook" according to the surgeon.  Somewhere between 5-15 nodes were removed.  Pathology will take a few days to go through all the tissue.

I forgot how sucky post-op is.  I hate that feeling.  Disorientation, numbness, tingling, anxiety and nausea.  You can't get comfortable and you just want to get home and roll into bed.  I try and speed up the discharge process and just start getting dressed.  It usually works.  We were out and on our way home in the chilly weather.

Walter has been a great nurse.  It's unfortunate that he's had so much practice, with me as the patient.  He makes sure that we are following all of the instructions and that I'm not doing something I'm not supposed to be doing.  He also stares at me a lot.  I think he feels like concentrated staring is how one effectively observes the patient.  I disagree, but am grateful for a partner that takes such good care of me.

So, now I rest and recover.  Milk my drains, gently stretch and walk, eat good food and stay hydrated.  And wait.  So much waiting.  Wait for the pathology report that will help determine the chemo regime.  Wait for the healing and the release to go back to work.  Wait and watch for side-effects from the nodes being gone.  Waiting is part of it, no way around it.

Thank you to everyone that sent kind words, said a prayer, rubbed some crystals and made countless offers to help us.  We have an amazing village!

Time to get back to bed, where I hope to not have more dreams about riding my horse without my false teeth.

Let's Get this Party Started!

One day back to the office today and then the next party starts tomorrow.

My axillary Disection is tomorrow afternoon.  The surgery is out-patient and shouldn't take too long.  I'll have one drain (always a pleasure), but don't expect anything too traumatic.  To be honest, there doesn't seem to be much to remove.  From what I can feel, there is very little tissue under my arm, so I'm not sure how much trauma I'll have in that area (should have paid more attention in anatomy class).

I'll be home recovering and ringing in the new year (just how I had planned...um, no).  Then back for follow-ups, pathology readings and talking about my chemo plan.

I am nervous about developing lymphadema in that area since the nodes will be gone and I'm bummed thinking about a spring without the energy that I want to do the things I want. My plan is to muscle through and just keep on keeping on.

I hope you had a great Christmas and have a wonderful new year planned with those you love.

An Outlier

I'm an outlier.
At least that's what the oncologist told me.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to call me surgeon about an annoying spot of tissue that I noticed around the scar of my original lymph node biopsy.  I've been running and working out more and the sleeveless workout shirts kept pressing on the spot, forcing me to not forget it.  I assumed it was some scar tissue from the original surgeries or fatty necrosis.  I called and got in that day on a cancellation. Dr. Cross did an ultrasound and said that he didn't like how it looked and did a needle biopsy.  He called two days later to tell me that is was positive.  Argh.  Over the next week, I had an MRI and PET scan.  The MRI showed that the spot in question was a lymph node, so the cancer is systemic and needs to be treated such.  PET scan came back clear (so thankful!) except for the node area in question.  We met with the oncologist Friday and he was surprised.  He said I was an outlier and that my situation was a 1 in 100 occurrence.  I should have purchased a lottery ticket.
So, I have a plan:
-  Immediately start hormone blockers
-  Schedule an axillary dissection at the beginning of January to remove the set of nodes.
-  Start four months of chemo after the surgery
-  Visit with the radiation folks about benefits.
-  Stay on hormone blockers for at least five years

So, I thought I had finished the cancer journey and just had to complain about hot flashes and all the fun things that come with menopause, but this will be another leg of the journey to get cancer-free.

I'm not thrilled, but am feeling confident about it.  My thoughts went to some very dark places for a few days, but the prognosis is good and I'm healthy, strong and snarky.  I can do this.

Thank you all for following along.  There have already been some absurd and funny situations that I'll share later.

Enjoy life, hold the ones you love, be kind and touch yourself often.  ;)

Getting Inked

I love the Time Hop app.
I hate the Time Hop app.

Some days reminders pop up and I just smile or laugh at the joy on my face or the faces of my family.  Some days reminders pop up and I think, "Really?  Has it been that long?"

This week was the two-year anniversary of my implants exchange and my hysterectemony/salping-oopherectomy.  While others were at the beach, I was having surgery that would throw me into menopause twenty years earlier than expected and give me Barbie boobies.

I also got tatted up!

I kept putting getting areola tattoos (remember, I'm an open book... if this makes you uncomfortable, then this blog isn't for you) on the back burner.  "Let's see, I have a loan closing at 10:30, lunch with a new client and then I could squeeze in the areola tattoos at 2:00.  Great, send me a Outlook appointment."  Yup, that was the actual conversation with the scheduling nurse.

I had the procedure done at Dr. Stacey's office by his nurse.  They use the same equipment that would be used for permanent eyeliner and other cosmetic procedures.  A bunch of random circle items were pulled out of the drawer.

Donut size?  No.
Half dollar size?  No.
Triangles?  Just kidding.  No.

After a few different tries, we settled on the size and placement.  After some shots of numbing med (was surprised to have more feeling in certain areas than I expected), she tattooed the area, applied some triple antibiotic and bandages and sent me on my way.  That was it.

I guess I could have skipped this step in the reconstruction process, but I'm glad I didn't.  I know that things won't be the same as they were.  I'm not trying to recreate what I had, but it is good for my mental state to not be constantly reminded of the surgery.  It's nice to glance in the mirror and almost not notice the five-inch, fading scars across each breast.  

I also got to see the great folks at Dr. Stacey's office.  They have been great through this whole process and a huge source of comfort and support.  We talked about my "portrait portfolio".  When I was going through the consultations with the surgeon, there were a lot of "before" and "after" pictures, but nothing that showed the process.  I tried to stay away from looking at things on the internet, because there is very little curation.  I decided that could be part of my contribution to future patients...pictures of my breasts.  HA!  Who would have thought...  So, at EVERY visit, we took photos.  The nurse said that the portfolio has been incredibly helpful for those that wanted to know about the different stages.  

Over the last few months, I've been put into contact with young women that are choosing to have prophylactic surgery due to their high risk.  Wow!  What badasses!  They are taking control of that variable in the life calculation and changing it.  I really have to hand it to them.  It's one thing to go through the surgeries and recovery because of a diagnosis and prescription of care, but to make the decision to go through it to reduce the risk of a "what if"...well, that's a big decision and I applaud them.  I applaud them for not running from the facts and thinking that if they don't address the risk, it just won't happen.  Knowledge is power, right.  Knowledge isn't easy and it can make things even more difficult...ignorance is bliss, right?  That's right...blissful, until you die...and then I guess you don't need to deal with it, just the family that is left behind.  Whoa, that got dark quickly.  Not my intent.

Kuddos to those women that embrace the information about their health and decide to do something about it.  Great jobs ladies!  I'd give you an air-chest bumps if you didn't currently have your turtle shell expanders in and would cause me bruising. ;)

So, keep it up my women-friends!  You are doing great!  It may not seem like it at the time, but you are really kicking some ass.  Cut yourself some slack, grab the box of Cheez Its, draw the blinds and binge watch OITNB, if that is what helps you get through this.  And, if someone has something snarky to say about it, just give them my number and I'm happy to schedule a good ole ass whooping in between client lunches and areola tattooing.

Stay strong ladies!

Update - Two Years Post-Surgery

It's been a while.

I don't post much on this blog any more and have moved my focus over to www.eileenbjennings.com.  That being said, events over the last couple of weeks have brought the subject of my breast cancer experience back to the forefront of my thoughts.  My Timehop app kept reminding me that it has been a little over two years since my mastectomy and reconstruction surgeries.  It kept reminding me that this blog was a huge part of my recovery/therapy during that time.  I have had a few friends that have been diagnosed with breast cancer and are going through their own journey with the process.  I have also had a number of friends test positive for the BRAC genes and decide to a have a prophylactic mastectomy to curb their risk of developing breast cancer.  And then yesterday, my plastic surgeon's office called yesterday.  Would I be willing to talk with a patient who has been recently diagnosed and will be having a mastectomy soon?  Of course.  The nurse also told me that they give my blog address to patients and they find it helpful.  Who knew?  Snarkiness can help?  Love it.

So here is a quick update:

-  Things are good.  All of my follow-ups with surgeons and oncologists have been good.  They tell me to be diligent, but that my risk is very low for re-occurrence.
-  Menopause has not been fun, but it hasn't been that bad either.  I was going to go through it at some point any way...why not go cold-turkey.  I have to think like a 55-year-old woman and focus on bone density, mental sharpness, etc., but it's better than cancer.
- The fake breasts are getting better.  They were very perky and high (I could hold a flashlight in my cleavage...seriously) and now things are a bit more relaxed and there is more movement.  I haven't had the last procedure (medical tattooing) because it has take a long time for my scars to fade.  That will happen soon.
-  Post-traumatic stress is real.  It took a while to internally acknowledge that what I went through was difficult and took a fair amount resolve to endure.  I didn't need to minimize it.  It happened, it was hard and I made it.

So, things aren't the same as they were pre-cancer, but they aren't bad.  We all will have challenges that we have to work through and we can't expect ourselves to remain the same through it all.

To those that read this that I will never talk with or meet.  Hang in there.  Your cancer story is your cancer story.  Don't compare it to others.  Do what feels right and keep asking for help until you feel as satisfied as you can.

Best wishes to all.

Softness of Delivery

What a difference a year makes.

The time has been flying by.  I know that everyone feels the same way, except for maybe four-year-olds that are waiting to turn five (that was a long year for me), but it has flown by.  While in the midst of all the surgeries and recoveries, I told myself that I would do different things to commemorate the year and the process.  New Year's Eve was going to include a large bonfire and copious amounts of champagne and I was going to burn my boob binder and the four-inch stack of EOBs.  Well, after half a glass of Merlot, I fell asleep at ten.  I should probably recycle that paper anyway.  I thought that on the one year anniversary of the mastectomies, I might do something special...nope.  I think I was discussing cash flow with customers and complaining about my kid at Spring Soccer (not an enjoyable experience for all involved).  

I was a little annoyed with myself for not paying attention and not marking the anniversaries with a bit more fanfare, but as I started thinking about it more, I'm okay with it.  Right?  By not having those dates seared into my active consciousness, that means that those events are less of a defining moment than I had previously expected.  Right?  Maybe?  Who knows....

Being diagnosed with breast cancer and going through a year of aggressive surgeries and recoveries was a big deal.  But....  It's relative.  There are people out there dealing with a lot heavier stuff than what I had to go through.  I'm thankful for my circumstances and that it's over.  

Lately, certain social and professional interactions seem to annoy me much more than they used to.  I've been doing a lot of introspection and trying to gauge if it's a side-effect of forced menopause or if everyone is just a lot more annoying in 2014.  Part of it is the hormones.  Having 80% of one's estrogen shut down in one fell swoop can take a toll on one's "softness of delivery", but I also think I'm focussing on the little things too much.  In 2013 I didn't have the available mental bandwidth to deal with certain things, so they didn't even register with me.  I've lost some of that perspective.  I need to ask myself, "Is this really that important in the scheme of things?"  If not, then I need to try and keep it from taking up bandwidth.

It's possible that I'm suffering from a little PTSD (self-diagnosed, of course).  While I was going through the everything in 2013, I didn't think of it as that traumatic, but maybe it was.  This was a good realization to vocalize.  I'm not trying to compare my situation with returning combat veterans, but 2013 was traumatic for me.  

It was traumatic.
It sucked.
I was a badass, but it wasn't easy.
I pushed my recovery and tried to keep all the balls in the air.
I worried about how others were dealing with the situation.

That being said,

2013 is over.
2014 is happening.
I'm here.
I feel good.
I'm thankful.

Potential for the Positive

Ah, the new year.  I was so focused on getting through 2013 and seeing it die in a fiery blaze fueled by Hibiclens, bandages and whiskey that I was slightly disappointed when the good ole new year rolled in.  I didn't make any resolutions, but did give myself a few ideas for things that I had to put on the back burner in 2013.  I'm excited about trying some new things and go on a real vacation...a vacation that doesn't involve surgery and anesthesia.  I'm excited about the potential of the year.  

Potential.

I really identify with potential.  I love seeing people make something from just an idea, whether it's a product or a business.  I love looking at a piece of flat fabric and thinking about what fabulous clothing item could be made from it.  I love when someone confides in me a desire to try something new and I'm able to help them achieve that goal.  Exciting, exciting.  

And sometimes, potential can cause a lot of anxiety and stress.

I've talked with two women in the last month that are starring into the face of their own potential and their extremely high risk of breast cancer.  Ugh.  These women are smart and savvy and a couple of badasses, in my opinion, but they are are now spending much of their time addressing their potential for breast cancer.  It's heavy stuff.  There isn't a magic pill that will just erase away the risk...well, there kind of is, but it requires removal of your breasts and ovaries.  This isn't a option for women that are in the family-making mode.  The doctors usually default to the most aggressive course of action because they don't want to see the potential develop into cancers that are hard to treat and life-threatening.  Only the patient is the one weighing all the aspects and consequences of the potential cancer.  They are being asked to make static decisions about dynamics variables...talk about anxiety.

I remember those years.  The struggle with my headspace about my risk and what I should do.  Doctors that advised that maybe I should reconsider having kids because maybe I could pass the risk along to them.  Doctors that advised that I should have prophylactic surgeries that would have prevented me from having children.  Suggestions, advice, opinions....strong opinions.  The juggling of all of this can be exhausting.

But, it's getting better.  We have more choices and advances are being made every year that should provide even more choices in the future and hopefully a clear path to prevention.  When I think about my fiver-year-old daughter and the potential she has in life, the potential to develop breast cancer is low on the list.  I see her potential as a leader, a student, a revolutionary, a strong, confident woman.

I'm not glad that I was diagnosed with cancer and went through a year of surgeries and recoveries, but I'm glad it's over and I can spend my time thinking about other types of potential.  

Be kind and empathetic to women you know that are going through these situations right now.  Just listen and invite them out for coffee and happy hour.  Support them in their decision and help them feel comfortable and get back to thinking about other things....their potential...their potential for the positive.

3%

3%

He thinks there is a 3% chance of reoccurence.  He, the oncologist.  I think I can live with 3%.  I probably have a greater chance of getting smacked by a bus while running across the road to get coffee one morning.  There's probably a greater chance of dying from stupidity now rather than cancer.

I think I'm ok with 3%.

There is a possibility to lower that even more if I wanted to engage in a drug regime.  Right now, I think I'm ok with the 3%.  My husband reminded me that this is not a static decision and that we can reevaluate later, if we want.  The side effects and risks of the drug regime may not be worth the extra percentage point reduction.

I'm still processing this scenario.  For the last year, we have been focused on the "plan".  Now, aside from getting some areolas tattoed, the plan is complete.

Now what?

Does there need to be anything else?  

While adhering to the plan, I felt like I was doing something.  I was taking an active role is combating cancer and not letting it kill me.  Now I need to be comfortable with a less active strategy.  Yes, I need to eat healthier, exercise more, increase my calcium intake (but that is due to going through menopause twenty years earlier than normal) and other general health initiatives, but am I ok with not having an active fight on my hands.  I know that seems crazy, but I'm trying to challenge myself to not worry about that 3%.

And with that challenge, do I remove myself from this cancer-centric community I've created.  Can I even do that?

What do I write about now, if not cancer?  Do I write about my experience with other women that are going through this?  Do I keep updating people on my fake boobs (um, no).  There are still plenty of issues that I am going to struggle with that pertain to breast cancer.  I have baggage.  I have twenty years of baggage.  Keeping myself in a positive head space may be a real challenge for me.  How do I keep myself from extrapolating my mother's experience to my own?  How do I not become consumed with fear that this disease will affect my young daughter's life before we are prepared for it?

It'll be interesting to see what I want to keep writing about.  Maybe it will be canning or Junior League or guns..... stay tuned.

Pink vs. Purple

Oh October.

You month of cooler weather and football.  You month of autumnal colors of yellows, oranges, reds, browns...pinks and purples.  Don't think those last two fit?  Think, "boobs" and "bruises".

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness (pink) month and Domestic Violence Awareness (purple) month.  

You kind of forgot about the purple, didn't you?  

Yep, October has been pink-washed.  There are ribbons everywhere, tshirts, NFL shoes and gloves, pink ribbon bagels, pink-outs at high school football and softball games, and special pink-labeled products for just about everything you can imagine.  It's everywhere...you can't escape the pink.

Purple...not so much.

Breast cancer is easy for most people to identify with.  Have a friend with breast cancer?  Hold her hand, drive her to chemo, bake her a chicken enchilada casserole after her surgery and joke with her about future cup size and crazy wig styles.

Have a friend whose significant other is beating her?  Not so easy.  Do you get involved?  Do you say something to the authorities?  Do you even fully believe her?

I don't want to be negative against the pinkified movement.  I have benefitted from the pink.  I received amazing care and support when I was diagnosed and many of those things were made possible by funds raised through "pink" merchandise (although, I would STRONGLY encourage everyone to know where their funds are going when they purchase their next bottle of 10W-30 or vibrator...um yeah, seriously).  One of the reasons I persevered through years of screenings and appointments was because of the media attention that the disease received and I knew I was in a high-risk category.  Given that my course of action is so fresh in my memory, there is a part of me that thinks about how my situation would be different if I was in an abusive situation.

Let's just work through that exercise.

As someone in a controlled relationship, I would not have been allowed to go see my doctor on a regular basis.  If I was allowed to see my doctor, my partner would have been with me every step of the process.  Not to offer support, but to make sure that nothing about the abusive relationship was revealed.  Those pesky medical professionals and their court-mandated reporting.  My personal health would not have been a priority.  I would have been focusing on my partner and doing anything possible to keep from being abused or having my child abused.  Maybe my partner would have allowed me to see a doctor or I would have been able to sneak into the office, but I wouldn't have been able to pay for the the copay or the deductible because he controlled all of our funds and any money that I needed to spend had to be itemized and accounted for...by him.  Maybe I would try and confide in a family member about my inkling that I might be having a health issue, but my partner would have spent the years eroding my relationship with my family and convincing me that they are part of the problem and that they don't understand our "love".  

It would have been a much different scenario.

Why go through that icky exercise?  One in four women will experience domestic violence.  Arkansas is routinely in the top ten for most violent states in the US.  Domestic Violence is still a HUGE issue.  It's not a cancer that can be cut out or zapped or poisoned.  It starts in a manipulative, seemingly loving manner and develops into something that kills and injures (physically, mentally, emotionally) too many women (I acknowledge that men are victims of domestic violence as well, but 85% of victims are women).

Thank you from the bottom of my heart (which is behind my fake boobs) for your enthusiasm about and devotion to breast cancer awareness.  Thank you for carb-loading in the name of my boobs and in memory of too many of my sweet family members and friends.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  

Now, let's turn that enthusiasm and devotion towards the issue of domestic violence awareness.  Let's talk about it openly and OFTEN.  Let's teach our young boys and girls about healthy relationships and treating EVERYONE with respect.  Let's be sensitive to situations in our workplace, church, book club, basketball team, etc.  Speak up when someone says something that is negative and demeaning.  Open your eyes and ears.  It's all around us...all the time.

Enjoy those fall colors....

#ebj35

I threw myself a birthday party.
It was awesome.

Starting last fall, I told myself that 35 was going to be the difficult year.  35 was the age my mother was when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  35 was the age that I referenced over and over when discussing with doctors about my family history and risks.  35 was going to be a bitch to get through mentally.

35 is going to be a breeze.  
I welcome 35.
I embrace 35.
35 is the year that I will get this whole cancer thing behind me.

So, back to my party.  It was held at my new/old favorite bar, Maxine's.  The owners, Rebekah and Hannah, are formidable Downtown Fayetteville Mafia broads that I love.  They know how to throw a fun event and take care of the birthday girl.  Make sure you frequent their local businesses, Maxine's, Little Bread Company and Terra Tots.

Now that 35 has happened, it's time to work on my personal goals for the coming year.  Here is my list, in no particular order:
-  Learn how to back up a truck and trailer effectively, without taking out any other cars, kids, etc.
-  Become range certified and start teaching women's handgun classes.
-  Build my napping house.
-  Convert over to Wordpress (sooner rather than later)
-  Engage in more public speaking, maybe even an open-mic night (eek)
-  Try something that makes me uncomfortable...maybe pilot lessons or scuba diving...maybe coloring my hair.

It's going to be a good year.  Even if it isn't, it's going to be another year and I am thankful for that.

Fipples

"Oh no, I can't do that Wednesday.  I'm getting nipples that afternoon.  Can we schedule my hair appointment that next week?"

Ok, so not your typical rescheduling excuse, but it was mine.

Nipples are coming...or at least fipples (fake + nipples = fipples).

When it comes down to it, I guess I could forego the nipple reconstruction and just live happily ever after with my nice Barbie breasts with the scars across the front, but what is the fun in that?  If I'm going to be living with these fake knockers for the next sixty years, I should have some nipples or at least fipples.

The Promoter

In the last couple of weeks, I have had a number of people tell me that they have been reading my blog and that it has helped them through their own difficult time.  I've met some of these women face-to-face and some have messaged me.  It is actually a little overwhelming for me.  I started this blog as kind of a vent session, free therapy, f-you to cancer.  "Take that cancer.  I'm going to fight you tooth and nail and I'm not going to let you take a foothold in my life.  I'm going to be funny and irreverent and I'm going to let everyone marvel in how well I'm handling it all."

You like the slight overtone of martyrdom in that line of thinking?

I've had people tell me that they just don't know how I keep things so positive and that they would never be able to have such a good attitude about something like this. It's challenging to respond to those types of comments.  I almost want to apologize or try and minimize my situation.  Look, it's been a shitty, but people go through all kinds of hardships and trials in their lives.  I've had a number of years to think about this possibility and to wrap my head around it.

Do I feel sorry for myself sometimes?  Yes.

Do I wish I could go hang out at the beach for a week rather than hanging out in bed watching Firefly (I could write a whole post about why that show needs to be brought back)?  Yes.

Do I want my old body back without the eight latest scars and combined 800 cc's of silicone.  Yes.

Did it kill me?  NO!

So, there you go.  It didn't kill me and some would argue that it has made me stronger.  I'm not sure about that, but it has definitely helped me relate to other people that are going through similar things.  And this is how I've realized I can help other people.  I'm that plucky, slightly unpredictable friend that is going to offer to do anything to help you get through your difficult situation.

I'll listen. 

I'll acknowledge that it's not fair, but neither is life.

I'll help you come up with a plan.  I'll remind you that the plan will change and we'll change with it.

I'll advocate for you.

I'll fight for you....and I mean backwoods, Madison County fight.

I'll add people to your team.  You probably already have them waiting on the bench, you just need some encouragement to put them in the game.

I'll tell you all the things the doctors won't and help you get ready for them.

I'll tell you that you are strong, resilient and that you are ready for this fight.

I'll show you my boobs...if you thought that would help.

Not everyone can handle every aspect of that friend in their life, but you can choose which part of me you want (except the boob showing, that really needs to be in-person and only special situations).  Read what you want, skip over the other parts that annoy you.  This is me.  I'm a Virgo, a fixer.  I'm the "Promoter" personality on the DiSC profile.  I was voted Most School Spirit in high school.  I want to help you realize your potential.  You can do this!  You too, will get through this. It may not turn out the way you wanted and the path may be difficult and rough, but there will be bright spots and there will be positives.

And really...what's the alternative?

A Hysterectomy Door Wreath

Well, I made it through!

The surgeries went great and everything turned out the way they wanted it to.  The breast surgeon said everything looked good and now I just need to heal again (they should have installed a zipper the first time).  The gynecological surgeon said that nothing surprised her and that the edge of my liver is beautiful (never heard that one before).  I've been home recovering for the last week, but things have been so much easier than the first round of surgery.  I've been in hardly any pain and having complete use of my arms is very luxurious.

Have you heard of this new trend, Birth Wreaths for your hospital door?  They are cute and fluffy and have all kinds of doo-dads hot glued to them that give the average passerby an indication that behind the door is a new mother with her sweet bundle of joy.

I saw a couple of them at the hospital last week.  To be honest, I kind of felt left out.  I should have thought ahead and had someone make me a hysterectomy/salpingoopherectomy wreath.  I'm in Junior League and I know gals that can make some kick-ass wreaths.  I think the wreath would have been made with fire red, metallic mesh and had little bottles of merlot hanging from the bow.  Maybe some cold compresses and prescription bottles of Xanax.  Just a thought.  It definitely would have been quite the contrast to the pastel blue wreath that was hanging next door.

For some reason, I find so many things funny at the hospital.  Here are a couple (besides the door wreaths):
-  When I woke up in my room after the surgery, the first thing I saw was the phone number for the lactation nurse.  Had I been a little less sedated, I probably could have played a pretty good practical joke on said nurse...especially when she found out I didn't have nipples.
-  Again, when I came out of anesthesia, my vision was blurred and I felt so gassy.  Nothing like having a bunch of nurses telling each other, "she's complaining of a lot of rectal pressure."  You should have your full wits about you when rectal pressure is being discussed in the room.
-  The early morning housekeeping aide asked me if I had a boy or girl the day before.  Um, neither.
-  The anesthesiologist thought it would be funny to joke about my pre-op pregnancy test.  Um, no.  Not funny.

So, I'm taking it easy for a little while longer before heading back to work.  I promised my husband that I would study for and pass the HAM radio exam and I want to clean out the refrigerator.  I figured I should be able to accomplish both of these things even if I'm in the middle of hot flashes.

"Make that three-star spicy with the bubble tea"

I'm getting ready to go on an uber-exclusive vacation.

Or, at least that's what I'm telling myself.  It'll be an adventure.  I'm sure I will get to experience many new and exciting things.

I'll have a double order of the salpingoopherectomy...make that three-star spicy.  Oh, and with the steamed rice.  This tasty dish will be served up at the all-inclusive Willow Creek resort in the exotic town of Johnson, Arkansas.  They have the latest in all-cotton lounge gowns and I've heard that the wait staff is impeccable.

What I've packed to get ready for my trip:

-  Pro-biotics

-  Stool softeners

-  Front-closure tops

- Hibiclens

-  Germ-X

- Color-coordinated meds organizer

- My advance directive and Power of Attorney

I know that you are all wondering how you can book a trip like this.  Well, it's a pretty exclusive guest list.  It took me years to work my way into the inner circle of this club.  I'll see if there are any palms I can grease on the inside and get you invitation.

This week I continue my procedures to beat this pesky breast cancer.  I'll have the next stage of my breast reconstruction. They will replace the turtle-shell expander implants with the silicon implants (remember, I'm going with the implants that offer more "projection"). Hopefully they will be softer and a bit more comfortable.  I will also be having my uterus, Fallopian tubes and ovaries removed.  My breast cancer was estrogen/progesterone positive so we need to cut off those hormones in case we didn't get all the cancer.  Because I am BRCA II positive, I'm also at a higher risk for ovarian cancer, so the Naomi's (refer to "The Naomi's" blog post) need to come out.  

Needless to say, I'm not excited.  I feel that I've been a relatively balanced person when in comes to my hormones (my husband might disagree).  Things were always on schedule and I never felt like I couldn't control what was happening to my body.  Getting pregnant was easy and my pregnancy and birth was a very positive experience.  It seems a shame to get rid of those parts that have served me so well.  It's not as if I want more kids - we decided long ago that we were a one-and-done family, but I like having options.  It's kind of like four-wheel-drive.  I never use four-wheel-drive, but I do like having it as an option.  Guess it's that independent streak in me.  So, after this round of operations, I'll have less options.  I'll also have to bring more people into my circle to help me through this.  This last month I've added an acupuncturist and a compounding pharmacist to the list...oh, and I met a good tree guy...not directly related, but it's important to have a good tree guy.

A big thanks to all that are currently in the circle and have offered so many kind words of support.  I love you all!