So that's it!

I have had an epiphany. I am embarrassed by the fact that I have cancer.

It has manifested itself in the fact that I am uncomfortable with people going with me to doctor’s appointments. It also is keeping me from allowing my name to be put on the prayer chain.

Why in the world am I embarrassed by this? It absolutely makes no sense at all.

I can write about it here - but then I can tell only what I am comfortable with allowing others to know. I could email my condition to people to whom I feel close. I have trouble talking about it.
I have trouble with the idea of the entire church knowing about it. That makes no real sense.

The whole thing makes no sense. This is nothing to be embarrassed about, but there it is.

For want of PET scan results

I suppose the future will be full of pendulum-like mood swings. Sunday night I was so fearful and nearing depression about this cancer thing. After the oncologist visit yesterday, I am once again hopeful, but that is all contingent on the findings of the PET scan.

The fact that the hospital hasn’t seen fit to share the results of the PET scan is really angering me at this point. I thought the whole idea was that I would have it early on Friday so that the results can be available my Monday afternoon. Well . . . I won't even go there.

The oncologist was very poitive, but then that’s their main business. I mean who wants to go to a physician who is going to poison you and emit to you a persona full of doom. I don’t think they could very well convince too many people to go through four or more rounds of being poisoned, hair loss, possible heart damage, and perhaps leukemia with no hope of being able to pick up with a good life after that.

The oncologist said that even though my tumor is not considered small, it is not large. That could be a problem or not. I love a definitive answer! The next step, which he and the surgeon agreed upon, is surgery. After looking at the tumor, doing a test which includes genetic testing, and looking at the lymph nodes will give us the definitive next step.

At the very best, I would be considered a low risk for metastasis, and that would mean no chemotherapy. I would be placed on hormone therapy for five years. The worst cast would involve two rounds of chemotherapy and the hormone therapy for five years. Intermediate would be one round of chemo, and then the hormone therapy. Radiation would be in each of those.

So now my tennis match of doctors is back with the surgeon. As soon as he gets the PET scan results, we will meet to arrange for the surgery which will be a lumpectomy and studying the sentinel lymph nodes. Then in two weeks the ball and I return to the oncologist.

I feel somewhat like a mushroom who is exposed to a little sunlight!

Disclaimer: This is written from fear and is a real downer

Today is my appointment with the oncologist. I have trued to keep very upbeat and strong. I do not feel upbeat and I certainly don’t feel strong. I am scared to death.

This is it. This is the result of the scan. This tells me where the cancer may have spread. It tells me how and if they will treat it.

I couldn’t get it off my mind last night. I couldn’t sleep. The cloud hanging over my head is suffocating, and I am so very scared. I have told my family I’m fine. I told them I don’t need anyone to go with me to the appointment. In a way, that’s true. I guess I’m a little strange in that I don’t like anyone else hear bad news with me. I don’t know where that comes from. It certainly doesn’t take away the horror of it all.

So at 2:30 I am scheduled to meet with the oncologist. A doctor who I have never met, yet holds my life in his hands. In some aspects this is terrifying yet comforting.

The morning news is running in the background as I write this. They interviewed a young woman - 36. She also has breast cancer in her right breast. When she was talking about it, I had a smug thought when she was talking about the tumor being small. Hers was 3.3 cm and mine is only 2.3 cm. Ha - mine is smaller. My chances are better. Then again who knows.

She just had a mastectomy and reconstruction last week. She begins chemo now. Will I have to do that, or can they just remove the lump and then begin chemo? These questions are beginning to weigh so heavily.
All the strength I have prayed for is leaving me rapidly. I am so scared.

Disclaimer: This is written from fear and is a real downer

Today is my appointment with the oncologist. I have trued to keep very upbeat and strong. I do not feel upbeat and I certainly don’t feel strong. I am scared to death.

This is it. This is the result of the scan. This tells me where the cancer may have spread. It tells me how and if they will treat it.

I couldn’t get it off my mind last night. I couldn’t sleep. The cloud hanging over my head is suffocating, and I am so very scared. I have told my family I’m fine. I told them I don’t need anyone to go with me to the appointment. In a way, that’s true. I guess I’m a little strange in that I don’t like anyone else hear bad news with me. I don’t know where that comes from. It certainly doesn’t take away the horror of it all.

So at 2:30 I am scheduled to meet with the oncologist. A doctor who I have never met, yet holds my life in his hands. In some aspects this is terrifying yet comforting.

The morning news is running in the background as I write this. They interviewed a young woman - 36. She also has breast cancer in her right breast. When she was talking about it, I had a smug thought when she was talking about the tumor being small. Hers was 3.3 cm and mine is only 2.3 cm. Ha - mine is smaller. My chances are better. Then again who knows.

She just had a mastectomy and reconstruction last week. She begins chemo now. Will I have to do that, or can they just remove the lump? These questions are beginning to weigh so heavily.
All the strength I have prayed for is leaving me rapidly. I am so scared.

One big lie for my daughter

Yes, I am going to tell my daughter a lie today. She is having Lady Bug’s birthday party at Mr Mouse’s Pizza Place. I normally go to all of Lady Bug’s parties - even the ones they had given by her day care.

So why am I going to lie to K? Because her in laws are all here. I confess that there is absolutely no love lost between them and us. It is a long story, and it is not going to change.

So the lie that I am going to tell her is that since she only has 20 seats reserved, her dad and I will not be there because the PET scan really aggravated my arthritis, and I don’t want to make a big deal out of finding a chair.

Pathetic isn’t it? Well, if I have only a certain number of days on this planet I am going to try to spend them with the people I want and doing things I want. Selfish? Probably. Will it really make a difference to Lady Bug? No. She doesn’t see those people as much as she sees me, and she is really excited about them being here.

K would probably understand all this, but in this case a lie will smooth things over better than the truth.

I’ll have a cake for Lady Bug at dinner tomorrow night.

D day or should I say P day

Today was the PET/CAT scan day. The hospital called my on Wednesday telling me that they had to move my appointment to today because they were calibrating the camera yesterday.
Then the technician began telling me about the procedure. She said I could not really bring a paperback novel because that would cause too much muscle action in my hands and the radioactivity would pool there. That is itself was bad news. I don’t go anywhere without a book. She said I could read magazines, but I can’t think of a magazine on the face of this earth that could hold my attention for an hour.

Then she said some people bring a portable DVD player. Ummmm, I didn’t have one, but I thought that would be a SPLENDID idea. I’ve got DVDs around here that I haven’t seen. So out I went yesterday to capture a portable DVD player. Then, of course, I had to have ear plugs as well as a carrying case.

I rationalized all of this to G by saying that I would probably be in need of something like this as I continue with chemotherapy and the like. Bless his heart, he just nodded and went on knowing that there was nothing that would change my mind. Thirty eight years of marriage does that to a man.

When I got there and finally over to the PET scan unit, I was placed in a lead lined room. Talk about feeling like a pariah! When the technician brought the solution that contained the radioactive elixir, it came in a lead box and the syringe was encased in lead. I was a little nervous about that!

To wrap this up, generally the experience was not a bad one. The worst part is being strapped to the table, not being able to move for about 2 hours. That is my definition of torture in itself, but when the arthritis kicked in, well let’s just say when she said :about 19 more minutes Mrs Grandma," I really wanted to cry.

But it’s over - for now. I know there will be more in my future. At least I hope there will be more. I just hope this one doesn’t show widespread tumors. Hopefully the next ones will not be "full body" because there is not need. We’ll shall see.

I’m off to the oncologist Monday afternoon. Oh, and I am still radioactive, but I don't glow in the dark, darn it!

Waiting game

I feel this whole ordeal is a waiting game. Part of it is my fault. I made the decision to spent the first week post partial diagnosis at the SSB. I wanted G to be able to hunt that week. I made it to the surgeon the next day we were in town, and I had the biopsy exactly one week later. I got the diagnosis on Thursday of that same week.

So here we are almost a month later, and no treatment has begun. The hospital did not call when they should have, then scheduled me three days later. Today they called and I have to wait for another day because they have to calibrate the camera. Why could that have not been done before?

The oncologist appointment was made for Friday, but that has to be postponed until Monday so they have the results of the scan. Between you and me, I don’t think the results will be at the oncologist’s office.

The oncologist my surgeon really wanted me to see is too busy, so I have to see another in that group. I am a little sad about that, but I know the surgeon thinks they are all good, but he really preferred the one. I called his office to keep them up to speed.

Perhaps I will be getting treatment by July!

And the envelope say . . .

Yes, the biopsy confirmed that I have breast cancer. I am being sent for a PET scan on Thursday, and am awaiting the appointment with the Oncologist. I am finding the answer to questions in small increments.

I don’t know what the treatment involves because the scan will determine if the cancer has spread anywhere. With luck, it will involve a lumpectomy and chemo. If not, I am not sure of the course of treatment.

So the mood of these postings will definitely change. There is so much unknown out there, but we are continuing with out lives. We are still planning weekends away, and in fact are planning a trip to Chicago at the end of April.

I am not going to let this get me down. My prayers are for strength, nor mercy. I just want to face this thing with strength and grace

Funny and not so

It has been freezing here in Swampland. The forecast for yesterday was sleet and freezing rain. Everyone was concerned, but nothing happened. Then yesterday evening, the rain began, and the temperature began to drop.

When Simone decided she had to go out at 3:45 this morning, I thought we were out of the woods again. There would be no ice today. When she got up again at our normal time, 6:30, I turned on the television. Schools were closed and freeway ramps and overpasses were closed. There was a 15 car accident on one of the freeways. Swamplanders do not know how to handle that slick stuff.

Of course, the television stations have taken this weather as their own. The ice storm, with the various names hung on it by the different stations, has taken over our news. The weather people were still licking their wounds from crying wolf for Tuesday. The ice never hit. They called for it from Sunday on. It never came.

They, I’m sure, felt vindicated today. They preempted the national morning shows to cover the situation here. They are still coming on during each and every commercial break to give updates on the temperature and the thawing!

I’ve got to have a little sympathy for them, after all, we didn’t get a hurricane this year. We didn’t even get really heavy rains. It has been a very slow weather season for those poor souls.

In a more serious note, I had the biopsy done yesterday. The surgeons office called today for G and me to come in. We are going in tomorrow for the results. Both the doctor and the nurse tell me that regardless of the news, we have to come in, but since they are wanting G to also come in, I think the news will not be good. I think there is a malignancy, and we will be discussing a treatment plan. Needless to say, there is a great deal of apprehension on my part now even though I feel I am expecting the worst.

When these things come up, my fight or flight tends to run to flight. I would like to just run away from the whole situation. Anyone have some sand I can put my head into?

Close call

My biopsy almost was moved to yesterday. I reminded that I had not stopped the aspirin based meds until yesterday. The nurse asked the doctor, and he said he didn’t want to do it because the bruising would be too great. This gives me a little pause. I was thinking a needle biopsy done in the office wouldn’t be too great a deal. I am almost ready to ask for someone to go with me.

I am still praying with strength to deal with this without dissolving into tears. I was doing much better than I am now. It didn’t help to watch television last night with the father of a major character on one show finding he had cancer in multiple organs. They didn’t give him much of a chance, and there would be no chemo or radiation.

I shouldn’t be watching programs like that. I really need to make sure that I keep my spirits up. I especially need to be positive around the family. As the surgeon said, tears won’t do any good at all. I need to just gird my loins and fight this thing.

It is just so difficult right now. There is no definitive diagnosis on anything. I don’t know if it is really cancer. I don’t know what kind. I don’t know if it has spread. I don’t know if I will be getting chemo or radiation or both. I just feel like I cannot plan my life past the pathology report.

I got the form to reserve a booth at the festivities in Tiny Town in July. I don’t know what kind of condition I will be in then. I’m thinking I’ll send in the form so I could get a good spot this time. I have until June to cancel and get my money back.

With the weather about to change terribly, keep warm!

For several years after my father in law took the hunting rights back from what is now my sister in law’s place in Tiny Town County, I bravely packed up and went with G when he went hunting. Having been a biology major with knowledge of anatomy, I would go out and help him "dress" the deer. That means I would help skin and dismember said deer. I don't remember that being in our wedding vows, however!

I continued doing this even after the children were born which made for some tricky times. I would be running between the house and the rack at the hunter’s cabin. There’s not much telling what went on with those kids while I was outside, but nothing was broken (thank goodness since it was mother in law’s house), and neither child was maimed.

After a few years, I finally got smart and decided to stay home when he would make these forays into the "wilderness." It was terribly boring for me. There was no satellite television at that time, and the tall antenna would only bring in one station. It was supposed to be able to turn to bring in all sorts of stations, but we were afraid to try to turn it. Unvariably, if a turn was attempted, the thing would break, and that would mean NO television at all.

It was boring to sit in the house, without car, nothing to entertain (especially the kids), from about 3 pm to around 6:30. Then it was not fun to go out to "dress the deer" especially when it was cold and I was in tennis shoes. Frost bitten toes were in order.

But now we have our own place, with satellite. I no longer go out to help with whatever deer was taken. Usually the only thing I have to do with the venison is to cook it at some later date. That was true until this year.

I bought one of those really neat vacuum food sealers to keep at SSB. The first deer G shot this year, I bagged the pieces while we were still there. Well, that’s not too bad. I made one mistake. I worked with the venison other than making it into some heavenly dish.

This second deer that was shot on the last day of the season was supposed to have been bagged while we were there. I was too busy cleaning the house which was filthy. Things like that happen when you have eight people living there for four days, a party of fourteen on New Year’s Eve, and then another person coming for two days after the mob left. The deer was put into the freezer.

What I did not know was that blasted deer was only quartered. It was still on the bones! And now it was frozen solid. And I was to package it. Did you know that you cannot cut frozen meat?
I left the ice chest outside on Monday night. Even here in Swampland, it can be chilly at night. The meat was solidly frozen. It was going to be fine. Yesterday I opened the chest. It was at this time I found it was only quartered. It was still as solid as a rock. G had really expected me to process it yesterday. I told him there was no way.

I decided I would bring in the ice chest today and open it to let the meat thaw while I was at the dentist having my teeth cleaned. I did just that. When I got home, I retrieved the rump only to find it was still frozen - solid. I let it all sit until 4 this afternoon. It was still pretty solid, especially on the bottom.

After fighting it for an hour and a half, the score stands at:
1 venison rump - 99% removed from the bone
5 fingers - frostbite
3 fingers - frozen
remaining rump and shoulders - in the outside refrigerator to defrost.

And so it is

I am just back from seeing the surgeon. I am scheduled for a biopsy on Tuesday. The mass is suspicious, and from the radiographer’s report probably malignant.

If the pathology comes back with that diagnosis, there will be other scans and test. There are many decisions that will have to be made at that point.

So, it looks like this is going to be turning into the chronicle of my fighting breast cancer. I realize the diagnosis has yet to be made, but I’m pretty sure that the surgeon feels that is the answer and the needle biopsy is just needed for confirmation.

The unknown awaits

Just before Christmas, I finally made the trip to the Ob-Gyn. This is one trip that I had been postponing for way too many years. I am ashamed to say just how many years, so I’m not. You would be shocked.

This particular doctor is the one who delivered Monkey Boy, and I was very impressed with him. I have now joined all the women in my family under his care. His examination was unremarkable. Everything looked good. But there is the results of the pap test and the dreaded mammogram.

The mammogram has not gotten a bit better. I still felt like a car was driven over my chest.
As I waited for the results, I was nervous. My doctor stated that if the pap was normal, he wouldn’t call. There was no call for some time. Relief flooded over me. Then just before New Year’s, his office called. The mammogram showed something, and I had to go for a "spot compression mammogram" and an ultrasound. The nurse made me an appointment for the next day, Thursday.

The "spot compression" is exactly what it sounds like. The same old procedure with even more pressure in a smaller spot. Not fun. I was full of myself with the ultrasound. Certainly that wouldn’t hurt. Ha! I could not believe the pressure.

Two days later we left for the SSB. We were to be there for 9 days. The nurse at the doctor’s office had high hopes of getting the result the next day which was a Friday. Well that didn’t happen. I am fully aware of how slow even the medical field is during the holidays.

It was on Tuesday the next week she called. I need to go to a surgeon for a biopsy. She really wanted me to return right away. I figured if it had been there for this time, a few more days will make no difference. She made me an appointment for today, a week later.

So here I sit, waiting until later to pick up the films from the imaging center to take to the surgeon. I have no clue about what awaits me. I know there is a mass. It appears large.
This blog may become one of chronicling my fight with breast cancer. I don’t know yet. All my plans suddenly have been placed on hold. I am certainly not in control of my future - as if I really ever was. None of us are in reality. We don’t know what awaits us tomorrow.

I’ll keep you posted.