So, I haven't written in a while. Not surprising though. I don't know about the rest of you, but I tend to write or over-think when there are times of stress or reflection. I guess, its been a good week! Nothing pressing to write about. Except that I started loosing my hair. I'll post pics when I'm good & bald. It just looks patchy & gross now. ;)
I had my 2nd chemo treatment on Wednesday the 18th. Doc Johnson said my blood-work was "awesome" and that I'm taking to the treatment very well! I even asked him if I was getting enough...his response, "You want more?" LOL, not exactly, I just want to make sure we're doing our damnedest to kick this cancer's ass! I don't plan on going though this again. He assured me that I'm not being under-medicated at all, in fact he's hitting with everything he has. Good.
Couldn't help but ask though, because I've been blessed with a lot of good days for a woman on chemo! I'm sure you've all heard the same stories, chemo patients constantly sick, nauseous, in pain. I was prepared to be one of those women, prepared to watch the summer go on by. I know that each treatment affects each patient differently, but I am truly amazed by how good I feel. Now that I'm through the 2nd dose, I have a pattern and know what to expect for the last 2 doses of these drugs. It could all change in July when I start a different "cocktail."
Its a good thing I'm feeling good, there are things to be done! There are kids to raise! There's work to do! There's golf to play! There are concerts to go to! (Seriously, George Clinton & Steve Martin both in Salina this summer! P-funk meets King Tut! Not the same day though, that would put the universe into chaos! Yes, yes, yes...I am a super eccentric music geek.)
So, for this week, the word is BLESSED! I am blessed with a good attitude. I am blessed with awesome family & friends! I am blessed with an excellent medical team. I am blessed to be here, everyday.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Where I'm supposed to be...
Not really sure how to start this thought, but I guess my feeling of late is "I'm where I'm supposed to be." How, you ask, can someone who has cancer be comfortable with where they are in life. It's horribly depressing to think about really. You start to feel the "why me's" coming on. Well...why not me?
For those that know me, I've had rough 2-3 years. I went through a divorce, changed jobs twice, moved 3 times and at one point was working 5 different part-time jobs to make ends meet, all while raising 2 boys. Last summer about this time my Mom starting to get very sick, eventually ending up in the hospital for weeks, then rehab, then staying at home while I worked full-time and left our shop in the care of high schoolers (who did a fabulous job!). It just seemed like none of us could catch a break. So we turn the calendar pages to February, everyone is feeling pretty good, although Mom is still on IV therapy for her infection. Cool.
Then...CANCER!
WTF???? Where did that come from?
So, now that I've had some time to reflect on the whole thing, I firmly believe that things happen for a reason and that I'm where I'm supposed to be:
If I hadn't of gotten divorced, I probably would not of found the cancer until it was much more developed and possibly metastasized. What possible logic could I have for this? I found the tumor after I had my tubes tied, which I wouldn't have had done if I were still married.
If I hadn't of changed jobs twice I wouldn't have the outstanding boss & insurance that I have now. Mike Peterson, my boss, is wonderful, truly wonderful. He's allowed me to take care of my illness without having to stress about losing my job. That is trust & compassion I absolutely will not take for granted. If I'm feeling good, or even so-so...I'll be there for him.
If I hadn't of moved 3 times, I wouldn't be living in the great complex that I live in. Not only is it a nice place with wonderful neighbors & friends, it is income based. When the amount of hours I was able to work went down, the staff was willing to work with me.
Now, the last thing is much more difficult to accept, and I still struggle to understand the meaning or why's of my Mom's illnesses. Between lupus, kidney transplants, lung infections & blood clots, our family has had a long road, since about 1986. The only thing I can grasp is that by having witnessed the grace, humility & strength with which my mother has handled everything, I have a shining example of how to handle myself in my current predicament. And not only for myself, tons of people have been witness to my Mom's strength and hopefully it has inspired them as it has me.
So, are you where you're supposed to be?
For those that know me, I've had rough 2-3 years. I went through a divorce, changed jobs twice, moved 3 times and at one point was working 5 different part-time jobs to make ends meet, all while raising 2 boys. Last summer about this time my Mom starting to get very sick, eventually ending up in the hospital for weeks, then rehab, then staying at home while I worked full-time and left our shop in the care of high schoolers (who did a fabulous job!). It just seemed like none of us could catch a break. So we turn the calendar pages to February, everyone is feeling pretty good, although Mom is still on IV therapy for her infection. Cool.
Then...CANCER!
WTF???? Where did that come from?
So, now that I've had some time to reflect on the whole thing, I firmly believe that things happen for a reason and that I'm where I'm supposed to be:
If I hadn't of gotten divorced, I probably would not of found the cancer until it was much more developed and possibly metastasized. What possible logic could I have for this? I found the tumor after I had my tubes tied, which I wouldn't have had done if I were still married.
If I hadn't of changed jobs twice I wouldn't have the outstanding boss & insurance that I have now. Mike Peterson, my boss, is wonderful, truly wonderful. He's allowed me to take care of my illness without having to stress about losing my job. That is trust & compassion I absolutely will not take for granted. If I'm feeling good, or even so-so...I'll be there for him.
If I hadn't of moved 3 times, I wouldn't be living in the great complex that I live in. Not only is it a nice place with wonderful neighbors & friends, it is income based. When the amount of hours I was able to work went down, the staff was willing to work with me.
Now, the last thing is much more difficult to accept, and I still struggle to understand the meaning or why's of my Mom's illnesses. Between lupus, kidney transplants, lung infections & blood clots, our family has had a long road, since about 1986. The only thing I can grasp is that by having witnessed the grace, humility & strength with which my mother has handled everything, I have a shining example of how to handle myself in my current predicament. And not only for myself, tons of people have been witness to my Mom's strength and hopefully it has inspired them as it has me.
So, are you where you're supposed to be?
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Dance Your Cares Away...
So...Yesterday was a GOOD day!!! All of my scans were clear, which means I am a Stage 2 cancer patient. Even though there was cancer in the nodes (which were all removed), my bone scan, CAT scan & all blood work came back clear. PRAISE GOD!!! So, in celebration, I present a group of folks who can say it better than anyone:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7TTk_0XYn4
I honestly don't know who celebrates better than Fraggles, do you? ;)
Yesterday I had my first round of chemo. As far as the actual treatment goes - boooring! It's just me, with a little needle hooked up to Portia (what we named my infusaport). Over 2-1/2 hours I received an anti-nausea med, a steroid, and 2 separate chemo meds. After that, Mom & I headed to lunch, then to get all of my at-home meds - more anti-nausea, steroids & a sleeping pill.
I finally made it back to work at 2, and that lasted until 3:15 - I was wiped out and had a headache by this time. I headed to bed and basically stayed there, unless you count the 2 trips to the bathroom when the nausea meds didn't work. Blah.
Felling pretty good today, woke up about 9 when Bob came over to check on me & let Max, my super-duper dog, outside. Just been taking it slow. Dad took me back to the cancer center to get my Neulasta shot this afternoon. This shot boosts white blood cell production, to counter act the chemo, keeping me healthy as possible. Now I'm just relaxing a bit. It all wears you out pretty good, but from what the doctor & nurses say, the regimen that I'm on shouldn't be that bad. Since I'm doing chemo every 2 weeks for now, I might get lucky enough to have 1 good week in between. Hope so!
God Bless & love you all!!!!
Marjie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7TTk_0XYn4
I honestly don't know who celebrates better than Fraggles, do you? ;)
Yesterday I had my first round of chemo. As far as the actual treatment goes - boooring! It's just me, with a little needle hooked up to Portia (what we named my infusaport). Over 2-1/2 hours I received an anti-nausea med, a steroid, and 2 separate chemo meds. After that, Mom & I headed to lunch, then to get all of my at-home meds - more anti-nausea, steroids & a sleeping pill.
I finally made it back to work at 2, and that lasted until 3:15 - I was wiped out and had a headache by this time. I headed to bed and basically stayed there, unless you count the 2 trips to the bathroom when the nausea meds didn't work. Blah.
Felling pretty good today, woke up about 9 when Bob came over to check on me & let Max, my super-duper dog, outside. Just been taking it slow. Dad took me back to the cancer center to get my Neulasta shot this afternoon. This shot boosts white blood cell production, to counter act the chemo, keeping me healthy as possible. Now I'm just relaxing a bit. It all wears you out pretty good, but from what the doctor & nurses say, the regimen that I'm on shouldn't be that bad. Since I'm doing chemo every 2 weeks for now, I might get lucky enough to have 1 good week in between. Hope so!
God Bless & love you all!!!!
Marjie
Monday, May 2, 2011
I'm Fine. Really!
WARNING: Rant Ahead!
Is it wrong that I get annoyed by folks who ask me how I'm feeling while they have a horribly pained look on their face? It's not that I don't appreciate their thoughts, I do. Really, I do. But at the same time I want to say, "I'm not dying, I'm FIGHTING!!!"
Okay, that's out of the way. Sorry.
I know this makes me sound incredibly ungrateful. Cancer sucks and there's no debating that. It's just that I'm a 'glass is half-full' kinda gal. That's the one thing I do know about myself - I keep filling up everyone else's cups. Like that lovable waitress Flo from Mel's diner, I'm gonna fill up that cup and then give ya a sarcastic nugget straight outta my big mouth.
This fight is gonna be hard enough as it is, so if you see me wearing my mopey-pants, lift me up. Give me a little out of your cup and I'll do the same for you when you're running low.
Is it wrong that I get annoyed by folks who ask me how I'm feeling while they have a horribly pained look on their face? It's not that I don't appreciate their thoughts, I do. Really, I do. But at the same time I want to say, "I'm not dying, I'm FIGHTING!!!"
Okay, that's out of the way. Sorry.
I know this makes me sound incredibly ungrateful. Cancer sucks and there's no debating that. It's just that I'm a 'glass is half-full' kinda gal. That's the one thing I do know about myself - I keep filling up everyone else's cups. Like that lovable waitress Flo from Mel's diner, I'm gonna fill up that cup and then give ya a sarcastic nugget straight outta my big mouth.
This fight is gonna be hard enough as it is, so if you see me wearing my mopey-pants, lift me up. Give me a little out of your cup and I'll do the same for you when you're running low.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Just rollin' along...
What a week! Started out pretty low, having my 4th surgery since 2/25, but the week ended pretty well with some "unofficial" good news. So...let's get started!
Monday was a full day, beginning with a 2-D Echo-cardiogram at Lindsborg Hospital. This was not what I expected, having confused it with a EKG. Again I was suited up in a gown, and told to lay on my left side so the tech could essentially do a sonogram of my heart. Having long since passed the point of embarrassment, it didn't even bother me that the tech was trying to get around "my girls" in order to get the picture. They also recorded the sounds each of the 4 valves were making. I asked the tech if everything was okay, because to me it sounded like a drain backing up. She just laughed and said I sounded perfectly normal. So, Echo complete, I moved on to the Salina Surgical Hospital to have my chemotherapy infusaport placed.
Normal check-in procedures - I'm getting pretty adept at all this by now. For the actual surgery they decided to keep me "awake." Translation: "Yes, you will be awake, but we will pump you so full of drugs that we could amputate all 4 limbs and you wouldn't give a crap." That being said, this was supposed to be the easiest of the 4 surgeries I've had. I guess it was, it only took about 10-15 minutes for them to place the port. And as Dr. Macy was leaving the operating room he said he would see me later, to which I replied (in my drug induced stupor, "No offense, but I hope not."
So I'm wheeled out to recovery, which is a bank of recliners separated by curtains. I doze there for an hour or so...probably more. I'm able to eat some toast, drink so water and not feel nauseated, so I'm thinking this is great! Dad gets me all loaded up in the truck and off we go. We pick up the kids from school, go to the pharmacy then head for Dad's. When we get there I have a few crackers, take a pain pill and go to sleep for a while.
I should mention that I am SUPER sensitive to the narcotic pain meds & anesthesia, so I specially request pain killers that are non-narcotic. Fine. Great. SUPER! Right? WRONG!! Holy cow, from about 6 p.m. Monday night until 3 or 4 p.m. on Tuesday, I was one messed up chick. Nausea, headache, and eventually throwing up. I was supposed to go back to the hospital at 12:30 on Tuesday for a bone scan. Well I almost went to the hospital, but not for a bone scan. When the kids were at school on Tuesday I think my folks were ready to load me up and take me back in. Luckily after a few phone calls to the doctor, a dose of nausea meds & some heavy peach syrup, I was finally able to keep stuff down.
Handy tip: Syrup from cans of cling peaches helps nausea! Take a tablespoon every 20 minutes for an hour, then try some water or soda crackers an hour after your last sip of syrup. It works!!!
I finally got home around 6ish on Tuesday night. I was able to work most of the day Wednesday, all day Thursday, then back to testing on Friday when I finally had my bone scan. As far as tests go, the bone scan was the easiest. With the exception of getting another shot of radioactive isotopes, a bone scan is an excuse to nap for 20 minutes while a computer guided x-ray glides over my body. The tech for this test was one talkative lady! We discussed the Royal Wedding and eventually she asked my story. I gave her the Cliff's Notes version (should have given her a link to this blog!) and she agreed that I'm one lucky lady.
When the test was over, she looked it over and said I was "clean as a whistle!" while reminding me that she's not a doctor, but she did have 40 years experience in radiology & nuclear medicine. That was the first bit of good news I've gotten in weeks, so let's hope the doctors concur!
Wednesday I'll meet with Dr. Johnson, my oncologist, to discuss test results. Pray for clean results, please. That's all I can ask of each of you. As long as we don't find it anywhere else, I am in Stage 2, which the doctor said is completely treatable.
Also on Wednesday I begin my first chemotherapy treatment. I'm looking forward to getting more details on side effects for these particular drugs. We've all known someone who lost their hair, had nausea, but each drugs affects everyone differently. I shopped around for wigs on Friday and found a few styles I liked. I will probably be cutting my hair this week so it's not such a shock to me when the long stuff falls out. I've been growing my hair out for 2-1/2 years!!! Going bald is going to irritate me!!!! :)
To end the week, the boys, Bob & I took off for the Zoo with our friends the Orchards. It was a great, but cold, day! Shielah was right, I needed to get out and do something fun. Thanks girl, I appreciate it!!!
Thank you all for the prayers, well wishes, cards, flowers, etc. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful friends & family! I love you all.
Monday was a full day, beginning with a 2-D Echo-cardiogram at Lindsborg Hospital. This was not what I expected, having confused it with a EKG. Again I was suited up in a gown, and told to lay on my left side so the tech could essentially do a sonogram of my heart. Having long since passed the point of embarrassment, it didn't even bother me that the tech was trying to get around "my girls" in order to get the picture. They also recorded the sounds each of the 4 valves were making. I asked the tech if everything was okay, because to me it sounded like a drain backing up. She just laughed and said I sounded perfectly normal. So, Echo complete, I moved on to the Salina Surgical Hospital to have my chemotherapy infusaport placed.
Normal check-in procedures - I'm getting pretty adept at all this by now. For the actual surgery they decided to keep me "awake." Translation: "Yes, you will be awake, but we will pump you so full of drugs that we could amputate all 4 limbs and you wouldn't give a crap." That being said, this was supposed to be the easiest of the 4 surgeries I've had. I guess it was, it only took about 10-15 minutes for them to place the port. And as Dr. Macy was leaving the operating room he said he would see me later, to which I replied (in my drug induced stupor, "No offense, but I hope not."
So I'm wheeled out to recovery, which is a bank of recliners separated by curtains. I doze there for an hour or so...probably more. I'm able to eat some toast, drink so water and not feel nauseated, so I'm thinking this is great! Dad gets me all loaded up in the truck and off we go. We pick up the kids from school, go to the pharmacy then head for Dad's. When we get there I have a few crackers, take a pain pill and go to sleep for a while.
I should mention that I am SUPER sensitive to the narcotic pain meds & anesthesia, so I specially request pain killers that are non-narcotic. Fine. Great. SUPER! Right? WRONG!! Holy cow, from about 6 p.m. Monday night until 3 or 4 p.m. on Tuesday, I was one messed up chick. Nausea, headache, and eventually throwing up. I was supposed to go back to the hospital at 12:30 on Tuesday for a bone scan. Well I almost went to the hospital, but not for a bone scan. When the kids were at school on Tuesday I think my folks were ready to load me up and take me back in. Luckily after a few phone calls to the doctor, a dose of nausea meds & some heavy peach syrup, I was finally able to keep stuff down.
Handy tip: Syrup from cans of cling peaches helps nausea! Take a tablespoon every 20 minutes for an hour, then try some water or soda crackers an hour after your last sip of syrup. It works!!!
I finally got home around 6ish on Tuesday night. I was able to work most of the day Wednesday, all day Thursday, then back to testing on Friday when I finally had my bone scan. As far as tests go, the bone scan was the easiest. With the exception of getting another shot of radioactive isotopes, a bone scan is an excuse to nap for 20 minutes while a computer guided x-ray glides over my body. The tech for this test was one talkative lady! We discussed the Royal Wedding and eventually she asked my story. I gave her the Cliff's Notes version (should have given her a link to this blog!) and she agreed that I'm one lucky lady.
When the test was over, she looked it over and said I was "clean as a whistle!" while reminding me that she's not a doctor, but she did have 40 years experience in radiology & nuclear medicine. That was the first bit of good news I've gotten in weeks, so let's hope the doctors concur!
Wednesday I'll meet with Dr. Johnson, my oncologist, to discuss test results. Pray for clean results, please. That's all I can ask of each of you. As long as we don't find it anywhere else, I am in Stage 2, which the doctor said is completely treatable.
Also on Wednesday I begin my first chemotherapy treatment. I'm looking forward to getting more details on side effects for these particular drugs. We've all known someone who lost their hair, had nausea, but each drugs affects everyone differently. I shopped around for wigs on Friday and found a few styles I liked. I will probably be cutting my hair this week so it's not such a shock to me when the long stuff falls out. I've been growing my hair out for 2-1/2 years!!! Going bald is going to irritate me!!!! :)
To end the week, the boys, Bob & I took off for the Zoo with our friends the Orchards. It was a great, but cold, day! Shielah was right, I needed to get out and do something fun. Thanks girl, I appreciate it!!!
Thank you all for the prayers, well wishes, cards, flowers, etc. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful friends & family! I love you all.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Down the 'Donut Hole'
All aboard! Today's tour stop was the Lindsborg Community Hospital for a CAT scan. Exciting, right???
I am pretty lucky to live in a small community that has a nice hospital. Most of my treatment will take place in Salina, but I am able to have a lot of my pre-treatment tests conducted in Lindsborg. It's so nice to leave 5 minutes before a scheduled appointment rather than 20-30 minutes.
I don't know if any of you have had a CAT scan, but to me, it was like sliding in & out of a giant donut. The Homer Simpson section of my brain kept thinking, "Mmmmm....sprinkles...", but sadly there was not a single sprinkle to be found. Prep for the procedure started the night before when I was lucky enough to drink 6 gallons of 'barium sulfate solution.' Sounds yummy, right? I know you're jealous. What this stuff actually tastes like is the orange baby aspirin stuff we were subjected to as kids, before medical geniuses figured out how to make medicine taste like candy. A little bit of this tasty technology would be helpful right about NOW! I knew it was going to appetizing because the illustration on the bottle was of the digestive system...funky tummy and intestines strung all over that label. Gross.
So in the morning, I again, had to drink 6 gallons of the junk. Joy! Okay, so it wasn't 6 gallons, probably about 20 oz. each time, but when something tastes like that, it seems like 6 gallons. I arrived at the hospital and was led to the giant donut room and had to change into a gown. By this time I'm thinking that I need to buy my own gown & have it personalized, save the hospital staff some laundry time.
I spend the next hour being poked with a needle for the 3rd time in 3 days & surfing back & forth through the donut, holding my breath when the polite computer voice tells me to. Between the sentinel node test 2 weeks ago, the barium & the contrast solution they injected into me today I am filled with enough radioactivity to be glowing, or at least sprouting a 3rd eye somewhere.
By the end of the CAT scan ended I was so starved that I went to the grocery store for - coffee & DONUTS! And so that concludes the medical portion of our tour for today! Watch your step as you leave the train & step on to the platform.
I wanted to include a picture of something my youngest drew the other day:
I am pretty lucky to live in a small community that has a nice hospital. Most of my treatment will take place in Salina, but I am able to have a lot of my pre-treatment tests conducted in Lindsborg. It's so nice to leave 5 minutes before a scheduled appointment rather than 20-30 minutes.
I don't know if any of you have had a CAT scan, but to me, it was like sliding in & out of a giant donut. The Homer Simpson section of my brain kept thinking, "Mmmmm....sprinkles...", but sadly there was not a single sprinkle to be found. Prep for the procedure started the night before when I was lucky enough to drink 6 gallons of 'barium sulfate solution.' Sounds yummy, right? I know you're jealous. What this stuff actually tastes like is the orange baby aspirin stuff we were subjected to as kids, before medical geniuses figured out how to make medicine taste like candy. A little bit of this tasty technology would be helpful right about NOW! I knew it was going to appetizing because the illustration on the bottle was of the digestive system...funky tummy and intestines strung all over that label. Gross.
So in the morning, I again, had to drink 6 gallons of the junk. Joy! Okay, so it wasn't 6 gallons, probably about 20 oz. each time, but when something tastes like that, it seems like 6 gallons. I arrived at the hospital and was led to the giant donut room and had to change into a gown. By this time I'm thinking that I need to buy my own gown & have it personalized, save the hospital staff some laundry time.
I spend the next hour being poked with a needle for the 3rd time in 3 days & surfing back & forth through the donut, holding my breath when the polite computer voice tells me to. Between the sentinel node test 2 weeks ago, the barium & the contrast solution they injected into me today I am filled with enough radioactivity to be glowing, or at least sprouting a 3rd eye somewhere.
By the end of the CAT scan ended I was so starved that I went to the grocery store for - coffee & DONUTS! And so that concludes the medical portion of our tour for today! Watch your step as you leave the train & step on to the platform.
I wanted to include a picture of something my youngest drew the other day:
This is a chalk drawing he did on the sidewalk in front of our house. He said it's our future - the three of us, a house of our own with a fire place & chimney, a playhouse & an apple tree.
This is why I'm fighting.
He's only 5 and doesn't understand the impact that drawing has on me. I had to take a picture of it before the rain washed it away. I'll probably frame it, so the three of us can remind ourselves each day why we're fighting.
Have a good night & God Bless!
Marjie
Thursday, April 21, 2011
The Magical Mystery Tour is coming to take you away!
Roll up, roll up for the magical mystery tour, step right this way.
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up (AND) THAT'S AN INVITATION, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up TO MAKE A RESERVATION, roll up for the mystery tour.
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away,
Waiting to take you away.
Great lyrics right? You can hear the song in your head as you read the words. Heck, maybe you even start to sing it a bit. Then you start to think about it and it becomes much more than just a fun Beatles song, its starts to have some meaning...we're all on a Magical Mystery Tour. Our reservations are made by a higher power and just by being born we're along for the ride. Well this blog is going to be about my ride. Good thing I always wear my seat belt, cause it's been bumpy and the road signs I've been reading all say "Caution! Curves Ahead!!"
On April 5, 2011, my life was turned upside town when I was told that I had breast cancer. At 35 with 2 small kids, this was an absolute nightmare. I put on a brave face and told everyone that "I was going to kick cancer's ass" but I was terrified.
I think my journey to diagnosis is very unusual, but a happy accident. Just over a month earlier, on Feb. 25th I had a laproscopic tubal ligation surgery. It was very routine, no big deal at all. I had the surgery on a Friday and by the next Tuesday my right armpit area was sore & tender. The soreness progressed until Thursday when it was painful. In the shower that morning I was feeling the area when I found a small lump in between my right breast & the armpit. I decided to call Dr. Bachamp, my OB/GYN, and have it checked, even though I had been there just a month earlier. She ordered a mammogram & sonogram, then referred me to a surgeon, Dr. Macy. He decided to remove the lump rather than do a needle biopsy. My lumpectomy was scheduled for March 31st. Neither doctors were worried about the lump, both believing that it would be benign.
The next Tuesday, April 5th my surgeon called and said the news was "Kind of a bummer, there was some cancer in the tumor." Kind of a bummer......probably the biggest understatement I've ever heard. From that phone call, my parents and I were in his office just hours later to get a better understanding of what was going on and to schedule another surgery. (are you keeping track...this would be #3!) On the 7th I was back in the operating room, after a brief stop in radiology. Radiology did what they call a Sentinel Node dye test. Essentially they inject radioactive dye into the area where the tumor was removed, have me massage myself (yes, you're probably thinking the same inappropriate things that I am...), then use an x-ray to see if the dye worked itself into a particular lymph node. In my case, no such luck, which meant the removal of all the lymph nodes.
By this time I was comparing the radiology department to underground catacombs, or some complex bunker system. I was laying in a bed the whole time while my chauffeur, Justin wheeled me everywhere. It all started to blend in, I was thoroughly lost and they hadn't even given me drugs yet! After the x-ray, I was subjected to another 'procedure' where they inserted a metal wire into my breast area, marking where the tumor was previously removed. If it wasn't shocking enough to look down and see a wire/needle thingy sticking out of your boob, I was seriously unprepared for what came next. The techs covered the needle by taping a styrofoam cup over the needle, so I wouldn't bump it. Visions of Madonna & Lady Gaga were now in my head. I remarked to the techs that my bra cup size was now "8 oz."
A pause here to tell you, that if you don't know me, sarcastic, inappropriate & wickedly funny things sometimes come out of my mouth. I apologize if anyone is offended, but if you're that sensitive, you probably shouldn't be reading this!!! Don't say I didn't warn you!
Okay, so now I'm back at surgery waiting, showing of my new accessory to my parents & boyfriend, who didn't know whether to laugh, cry or be offended. Humor is my weapon, so I use it often. Just a short stop here so the lovely anesthesiologists can mercifully drug me before I am wheeled down yet another hall and into the operating room where, by the way, it is freezing. I remember the mask being over my mouth for about 7 1/2 seconds and then nothing until I wake up in recovery and my right side is on fire. I usually try to tough out the pain, but man, this was bad. I remember at least 2 shots of morphine, but there may have been a third, who knows at this point.
Now we're moving again, wheeling me up to my room. This surgery was a lot more invasive than the other two, so I get to be an over-night guest of Salina Regional Health Center. Good thing too, because I was seriously out of it. When the nurses had to get me up to move to the bed in my room I'm pretty sure I cried. My side was screaming, maybe I was too. So there I lay, drifting in and out, quite sure I was talking to myself at times, trying to figure out what they could have done to me to make it so painful. When I became more lucid I discovered that I had a new friend - a drain bag which was eventually named Herbie.
This is getting really, really long, isn't it? Sorry!
So, recovery @ hospital, then recovered 2 days at my parents house. Now fast forward to Tuesday, April 12th when I get another "bummer" from the surgeon - cancer found in 12 of the 29 lymph nodes they removed. I spent that afternoon in a puddle created by yours truly. The next day was better and by Thursday the 14th we were back in Dr. Macy's office to get the full lab report. Although the news is still bad, Dr. Macy believes that he got all of the cancer that was present and a lot of healthy tissue surrounding it, just to be sure. Surgically, there's nothing else he can do, so I get an appointment with an oncologist, Dr. Johnson, who is HIGHLY recommended. All of my doctors are wonderful people and talented physicians, all highly recommended by other patients & hospital staff.
Yesterday, the 20th I met Dr. Johnson and I have decided that I love him. He is very plain spoken, not a whole lot of "doc talk" with him. He mapped out a treatment plan, literally - he made me a diagram of what tests, treatments & how long they will take. What a wonderful resource! So now, we're moving along pretty well. Had blood drawn today, have a CAT scan tomorrow, 2-D echo on Monday, catheter for Chemo inserted on Monday & a bone scan on Tuesday.
Chemo should start around May 4th. Waiting is the hardest part, but looking at the calendar, we have wasted no time in getting on the road to recovery, starting the next leg of the Magical Mystery Tour.
More later, I don't want to bore you now. I promise to keep this updated. And I will REALLY TRY to not make posts this long ever again!
Feel free to comment, but keep it positive!!! I've no time for Negative Nellies on this journey!!
Buckle up & have a safe trip!
Marjie
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up (AND) THAT'S AN INVITATION, roll up for the mystery tour.
Roll up TO MAKE A RESERVATION, roll up for the mystery tour.
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away,
Waiting to take you away.
Great lyrics right? You can hear the song in your head as you read the words. Heck, maybe you even start to sing it a bit. Then you start to think about it and it becomes much more than just a fun Beatles song, its starts to have some meaning...we're all on a Magical Mystery Tour. Our reservations are made by a higher power and just by being born we're along for the ride. Well this blog is going to be about my ride. Good thing I always wear my seat belt, cause it's been bumpy and the road signs I've been reading all say "Caution! Curves Ahead!!"
On April 5, 2011, my life was turned upside town when I was told that I had breast cancer. At 35 with 2 small kids, this was an absolute nightmare. I put on a brave face and told everyone that "I was going to kick cancer's ass" but I was terrified.
I think my journey to diagnosis is very unusual, but a happy accident. Just over a month earlier, on Feb. 25th I had a laproscopic tubal ligation surgery. It was very routine, no big deal at all. I had the surgery on a Friday and by the next Tuesday my right armpit area was sore & tender. The soreness progressed until Thursday when it was painful. In the shower that morning I was feeling the area when I found a small lump in between my right breast & the armpit. I decided to call Dr. Bachamp, my OB/GYN, and have it checked, even though I had been there just a month earlier. She ordered a mammogram & sonogram, then referred me to a surgeon, Dr. Macy. He decided to remove the lump rather than do a needle biopsy. My lumpectomy was scheduled for March 31st. Neither doctors were worried about the lump, both believing that it would be benign.
The next Tuesday, April 5th my surgeon called and said the news was "Kind of a bummer, there was some cancer in the tumor." Kind of a bummer......probably the biggest understatement I've ever heard. From that phone call, my parents and I were in his office just hours later to get a better understanding of what was going on and to schedule another surgery. (are you keeping track...this would be #3!) On the 7th I was back in the operating room, after a brief stop in radiology. Radiology did what they call a Sentinel Node dye test. Essentially they inject radioactive dye into the area where the tumor was removed, have me massage myself (yes, you're probably thinking the same inappropriate things that I am...), then use an x-ray to see if the dye worked itself into a particular lymph node. In my case, no such luck, which meant the removal of all the lymph nodes.
By this time I was comparing the radiology department to underground catacombs, or some complex bunker system. I was laying in a bed the whole time while my chauffeur, Justin wheeled me everywhere. It all started to blend in, I was thoroughly lost and they hadn't even given me drugs yet! After the x-ray, I was subjected to another 'procedure' where they inserted a metal wire into my breast area, marking where the tumor was previously removed. If it wasn't shocking enough to look down and see a wire/needle thingy sticking out of your boob, I was seriously unprepared for what came next. The techs covered the needle by taping a styrofoam cup over the needle, so I wouldn't bump it. Visions of Madonna & Lady Gaga were now in my head. I remarked to the techs that my bra cup size was now "8 oz."
A pause here to tell you, that if you don't know me, sarcastic, inappropriate & wickedly funny things sometimes come out of my mouth. I apologize if anyone is offended, but if you're that sensitive, you probably shouldn't be reading this!!! Don't say I didn't warn you!
Okay, so now I'm back at surgery waiting, showing of my new accessory to my parents & boyfriend, who didn't know whether to laugh, cry or be offended. Humor is my weapon, so I use it often. Just a short stop here so the lovely anesthesiologists can mercifully drug me before I am wheeled down yet another hall and into the operating room where, by the way, it is freezing. I remember the mask being over my mouth for about 7 1/2 seconds and then nothing until I wake up in recovery and my right side is on fire. I usually try to tough out the pain, but man, this was bad. I remember at least 2 shots of morphine, but there may have been a third, who knows at this point.
Now we're moving again, wheeling me up to my room. This surgery was a lot more invasive than the other two, so I get to be an over-night guest of Salina Regional Health Center. Good thing too, because I was seriously out of it. When the nurses had to get me up to move to the bed in my room I'm pretty sure I cried. My side was screaming, maybe I was too. So there I lay, drifting in and out, quite sure I was talking to myself at times, trying to figure out what they could have done to me to make it so painful. When I became more lucid I discovered that I had a new friend - a drain bag which was eventually named Herbie.
This is getting really, really long, isn't it? Sorry!
So, recovery @ hospital, then recovered 2 days at my parents house. Now fast forward to Tuesday, April 12th when I get another "bummer" from the surgeon - cancer found in 12 of the 29 lymph nodes they removed. I spent that afternoon in a puddle created by yours truly. The next day was better and by Thursday the 14th we were back in Dr. Macy's office to get the full lab report. Although the news is still bad, Dr. Macy believes that he got all of the cancer that was present and a lot of healthy tissue surrounding it, just to be sure. Surgically, there's nothing else he can do, so I get an appointment with an oncologist, Dr. Johnson, who is HIGHLY recommended. All of my doctors are wonderful people and talented physicians, all highly recommended by other patients & hospital staff.
Yesterday, the 20th I met Dr. Johnson and I have decided that I love him. He is very plain spoken, not a whole lot of "doc talk" with him. He mapped out a treatment plan, literally - he made me a diagram of what tests, treatments & how long they will take. What a wonderful resource! So now, we're moving along pretty well. Had blood drawn today, have a CAT scan tomorrow, 2-D echo on Monday, catheter for Chemo inserted on Monday & a bone scan on Tuesday.
Chemo should start around May 4th. Waiting is the hardest part, but looking at the calendar, we have wasted no time in getting on the road to recovery, starting the next leg of the Magical Mystery Tour.
More later, I don't want to bore you now. I promise to keep this updated. And I will REALLY TRY to not make posts this long ever again!
Feel free to comment, but keep it positive!!! I've no time for Negative Nellies on this journey!!
Buckle up & have a safe trip!
Marjie
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