Day 10 of Radiation...23 to go.

10 Days in and I'm plowing through this Thing. I have swelling and a dull ache on that side, which is weird, but not unlike how your breasts change when you are pregnant, only this is on only one of them. The fatigue is creeping up too, again like an early pregnancy. Unlike pregnancy, I'm not building milk to cause these symptoms, but the ducts are being irradiated to prevent the bad stuff from getting together and growing into more breast cancer.

I'm releasing myself to it when I can, the fatigue. I have a hard time laying around, my lifestyle has never supported it. Luckily, it's summer. Its 100 degrees outside until 8pm. We have no after-work obligations. This all lends itself to coming home from work and laying down. I don't usually sleep, but I veg. The kids have waited all day for me to get home, but they are stir-crazy enough inside all day that they burst outside to play with their friends. And then, I have peace. I rest, they play, and then I get up and do something about dinner or walk the dogs with them. Its working out.

The radiation procedure is fast. Putting on my gown before and getting dressed after are 5 times longer than the radiation itself. I lay on the table, they move me around to line up with the markings on my ribs and chest and start the machine. It moves around and hovers from side to side of me and in about 2 minutes its done. I grab my coffee from the waiting room on the way out and I'm off to work.

I have to do this because it is a step in my recovery and I am serious about beating breast cancer. I have to do it whether the laundry needs done, or the dogs need walked, or the kids are fighting, or my patients at work must come into the office RIGHT NOW, or I need a workout to get ready for a race.

I make time for all of it, because all of it is important.

Oncology 101

Sitting in the oncologist's office waiting room, I'm trying to think of it as any other doctor's appointment and just trying to read my book, but I can't stop looking at the others in the waiting room. I read the same sentence 8 times and didn't know what I'd read. I was emotional just sitting there among the other cancer patients.

They are mostly older, as in over 65, and they seem frail, and shuffle in and sit down with effort. One carrying a black bag over his shoulder; I've seen these before, and my assumption is they are chemo bags, although I have no clue as to how they work.

The receptionist knows them all by name. This is not their first appointment like it is mine.

As the "young one", I feel out of place. Almost an intruder. I'm not sick. I don't shuffle. My scar is hidden and small and healed. I am still strong and plan on staying that way.

The side door opens and a man walks out followed by several nurses and a few doctors, who are watching him. He is looking for something and they direct him to a plaque on the wall. He reads it out loud but to himself, quickly, so I can't hear what he says. Below the plaque is a large brass bell. He finishes reading and reaches down and rings the bell. Its really loud and then all the staff start to clap. I stare. I can tell the others around me in the waiting room understand what just happened. Then I know too. He's finished. His treatment is done. He happily leaves the office with a "see you in two weeks" to the receptionist.

This will be the first stop of my day for 33 treatments over 6 weeks. Every weekday I will come here first thing, undress and lay in a machine which will send a powerful xray over my left breast to irradiate any fiesty cancer cells which may be trying to expose themselves. After 10 minutes or so I will get dressed and go to work. The only evidence left behind are the 4 tiny dots they tattooed (instead of Sharpied which they said would wash off if I sweated or swam- uh no way) on my chest. These dots tell the machine where to line up every day. The skin will get irritated and dry and I must doctor it with lotion to keep it comfortable.

They are all very nice there in Oncology. The nurses I met were funny and matter-of-fact at the same time. They see lots of newbies like me. Its not just for women or breast cancer, this office sees all kinds of cancer. I got looks from those elderly like "poor thing". Not sure if that was because of my age or because I looked nervous. Or clueless.

Soon I'll look like I know what I'm doing. Soon that receptionist will know my name and I guess I will know hers. I will be there, get my treatments, live my life, and then ring the bell and move on.

The Case of the Disappearing Cancer....

On May 6th I went to surgery for the biopsy to remove a piece of tissue to test for cancer after seeing microcalcifications on my mammogram. The call comes May 10th from the surgeon, yes there was cancer in the sample. Several appointments and tests later we determine the surgeon must go back in and scrape out some more tissue to check for any other cancer cells.

Side note: I have to mention, the first go at it showed up on a bill for $18,000? But the Blue Cross "adjustment" was $16,000, and insurance paid almost $1700, so my part is a little over $300. Is that crazy or what? Anyway, that's a different topic I'm not willing to delve into. More bills are coming to amaze me further I'm sure.

ANYWAY, so as of May 10th, I'm thinking I'm still carrying around cancer and they are going back in to get it out. June 2nd I go under the knife again. I was told they were gonna go where the last sample was and take more, especially on the side where the cancer cells were centered the most. Great. Go for it.

Today I finally talk to the doctor about what was found on the sample this time. He tells me it's clear. As in, no cancer in the tissue tested. Say what? He explained the first surgery most likely got it all out and even if there were tiny pieces left (it was all tiny to begin with) my healing process causes new healthy scar tissue to form in the area which can pretty much kill off anything left there. It happens often.

Ok, how do I feel about this? I had cancer for an unknown number of months, but didn't know it. Then by the time I knew it, I didn't have it anymore. Strange.

Radiation is still recommended. Why? I don't have it anymore, right? Well, the doctors don't want to say I'm absolutely clear because they were only digging around in one area that they could see on the mammogram, but who knows if some random cancer cells aren't still floating around all by themselves and just haven't joined up to others to make a noticeable group. Radiation is my insurance.





Then I wonder how women with more advanced stages do this. How do they feel when they are told they have Stage 2 or 3 or maybe 4 breast cancer and then they have a mastectomy. The surgeon told me the only way they know all the cancer is gone is a mastectomy. Because my cancer was so small and confined it wasn't necessary but some women do it anyway, even with my DCIS. Just so they don't have to worry every time they go for a mammogram. So those women get the mastectomy and their cancer is gone. All that build up with the fear and the thinking it could KILL them and then it's gone. Now they don't have breast cancer. And everyone calls them a Survivor.

The cancer was cut out and now I'm a Survivor? Runs and walks and donations are celebrated for breast cancer research and supposedly I'm an insider because for a few weeks I thought I had cancer? I don't know about those other women, but that makes me feel weird. I feel unworthy of it all.

I am truly in awe of the ladies who have the mastectomies and then chemo. I don't know much about breast cancer chemo (hopefully I won't have to) but I assume that chemo is their insurance. They are told the mastectomy took it all. But now they must flush with chemo meds to get all the other pathways their more advanced cancer had possibly reached. Insurance.

I still have several doctor appointments to find out more about the next steps for me. I've had a lot of exposure to this disease in a very short time. I will need to process these last few months and accept that this happened and now I've done what I can to take care of it.

When the radiation is done and I get through the next mammogram and it is whatever it is and I move on to the next one, I hope to be more comfortable with it all, and then maybe, feel like a real Breast Cancer Survivor.

Is The Red Tent Coming or What?

Oh lawd, I think Lil Lady's pre-menstral...are you kidding me? Either my oldest is about to get her period, or something else is making her act like a real turd lately. I'm not ready for this. Turn back the clock, I'm not equipped to handle a teenager yet.

Lil Lady and Chillgirl both have been at each others' throats and awful in general, but especially at bedtime. I know they are 8 and 12 and not 2 and 6 years old, but they are resistent to actually turning off the tvs and lights and laying down without wanting a snack, or my attention, or to mess with each other at their freaking bedtimes...its ridiculous that this most basic rule in my house has lately been broken so carelessly.

Most nights Chillgirl is lights out by 9:30pm, so exhausted she's out within minutes. Last few nights she was restless and up and down and wanting to come sleep with me, which is a BIG no-no, I don't care how cute she is. She already comes in nightly at 4-5am and crawls in while I'm comatose so I have a strict no-sleeping-with-mom-while-mom-is-aware policy and she pushed me the other night into yelling at her to go to her room and she began wailing at the top of her lungs until I had to close the door to ignore it. This is after 10pm it was still going on.

The very next night my pre-teen Lil Lady revolts at 10pm when I tell her lights out, yelling she wants to watch just a little more of her show. I'm adamant its already late, no way, lights out. She begins to wail and Chillgirl wakes up and starts her crap again and I'm again in my room with the door locked as to not kill them both.

Both girls assured me it wouldn't happen again when I told them they needed punishment and they sweet-talked me into getting to play outside for an hour while I ran. Call me Sucker Mom, but when they're good, they're really sweet and good and I fall for it every time.

But I did tell Lil Lady if she didn't shape up that night and the next morning (her attitude's been rude and borderline homicidal most days in general) she would NOT go to her friends' parties this holiday weekend. Told her she's on thin ice and she would NOT get to go. That night they played and came in and got ready for bed. Chillgirl's in her bed like she should be then 20 mins later its LL's turn but she started arguing how CG didn't go to bed exactly ontime and she shouldn't have to either. Told her she already had one bad night, she better just get in bed and not argue. More snotty comments and jabs later she's in bed and I'm in my room.

I hear CG moaning "Mom, she turned out the bathroom light!". I yell, "Go turn it back on"...I am NOT getting up for this BS...(sidenote: CG sleeps directly in front of the bathroom and wants the light on until she falls asleep, LL's room is to the side so the light isn't even on her directly and after CG is asleep she's allowed to turn it off)...

This is exhausting for me to write, so I know you are wiped out reading it...basically CG gets up and turns it on, LL gets up and turns it off. They are yelling to me each other is doing this and I tell them if I hear another word about it, I'll be in there to ground them both. So next I hear puh-puh-puh, footsteps, then door open, the puh-puh-puh, door close, and back and forth...on and on. Then they are silently fighting over having the bathroom door open or almost closed with the light on inside. Now it is past 10:30pm.

My blood is boiling....literally I can feel it rising, as in my blood pressure. I'm sitting there thinking, really girls? I REALLY don't want to ground you, but you REALLY are not leaving me a choice. REALLY I'd rather you just go to sleep and I can pretend you did it on time and not an hour later after passive-aggressively terrorizing each other. REALLY. Can you just STOP? I'm saying this to myself and getting more and more pissed because they are still messing with each other in there.

OK, no choice. I get up, and WAR ensues. I'm yelling, they're yelling blaming each other, and everyone's grounded. The dogs may even be grounded, I'm not sure. Friday night festivities GONE and threats of adding Saturday plans to the list of cancellations. Crying all around. Somewhere before midnight I turn off my light with sobs still echoing through the house. Put the lid on that day, I'm DONE.

The next morning there are I'm sorry's and please don't ground me's and I remember saying something to the effect of "I don't negotiate with terrorists". Pouts and sneers from Lil Lady go down swell with my morning coffee. She can't believe I won't let her go to the slumber party. I'm the meanest Mom ever. I am hateful and evil. At least Chillgirl has the common decency to stop while she's ahead and accept her punishment, but Lil Lady is relentless.

But I stand my ground. I will not be conquered. Its two against one but I'm still the Enforcer.

When puberty hits both girls full-force I will probably be close to menopause. Lord help us all.

Dammit...I have breast cancer.

That's how I feel about it. Cancer. Dammit. I couldn't really fathom what it feels like to know you have cancer so it was easy to decide I didn't. But when my doctor called me at 6:30pm on a Wednesday and left me a message to call him back, on his private number, I knew my world was about to change.

DCIS~ Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. It's the 4th one down on the picture. Only identifiable on a mammogram as those omnious white dots, or microcalcifications. I would never have known it without the mammo screening. As far as we know right now, it's within the milk ducts and contained only there. This is good. My doc says it's "the best kind of breast cancer to have"...I know, that's a strange thing to say, right? I read that DCIS is called Stage 0 breast cancer. That's reassuring to me.

Once identified as which ducts to remove, they are excised by lumpectomy (even though there is no lump really) and radiation over a number of weeks takes care of any remnants. That could be a pain in the butt, but it reduces my risk of reoccurence from 30% without radiation to less than 15% with it. I'll take the x-ray beam at my chest for 6 weeks for those odds.

So I have a handle on what I have and how we usually treat it. I am still having tests to see if there are any other surprises. An MRI today to look at the whole chest. Hoping that shows a normal result except for the expected diagnosed area. Hormone tests should show if I need ongoing hormone therapy, which my doctor thinks I will need for the next 5 years or so. Soon the surgery will be scheduled and I can get this show on the road.

Aside from normal worries about reoccurance and pain and suffering, I'm bummed this will change my summer plans. With my girls, with my cycling and tri buddies, with my boyfriend and the beach trip we wanted to take. It's a huge unknown at this point and anyone who knows me, knows I'm not good with plans up in the air. But for once, the not-knowing is a bit more attractive than the knowing. I'm assuming I know how this will play out but Bad Luck or Karma or whatever you wanna call it may reach It's mighty hand in and yank the rug out from under me again.

I pray I will be ready, and strong enough to charge ahead, and kick this thing in its Ass.

I am not alone...deal with it.

I have found myself in a really vunerable position recently and I'm not loving it. The calcification spots were back on my latest mammogram and the docs want to take a bigger chunk of my breast tissue to make sure they are still benign, like the slivers were they took 6 months ago.

Last summer I went through the first biopsy alone because I was awake the whole time, and even with bleeding from a hematoma after the procedure I went to the pharmacy to get supplies for doctoring the small incision, alone. I took care of my kids alone that night and got up alone the next morning and went to work.

This time I went to the follow-up mammogram alone, I went to the surgeon consult alone, and made the appointment for the new biopsy, alone. But I can't go to the biopsy alone this time. I will be under general anesthesia and of course I cannot drive home.

I hate anesthesia. Every time in my life I've had it I wake up nauseous and vomit. I'd rather be awake letting them talk to me while they poke and prod than go through the fuzzy, disoriented, sick effects of anesthesia. But my doctor said I'll be under. Pooey.

I'm set for the procedure on a Friday, so I have the weekend to recover. I'm not broadcasting on Facebook I'm having this done but the few people who know, thankfully want to help. Take me in the morning, bring me home, help with the kids and get dinner ready.

My only issue is I'm fiercely stubborn about showing weakness and asking for help. I seriously will probably just want to be left alone. If the anesthesia is making me sick, I will not want someone there to witness that. If I'm swollen or bruised I will want to crawl into bed and sleep it off.

I won't be down long either. I have a committment with one of the kids the next day, and will need to be up and making sure it all goes well. So in the interest of getting things done and not wearing myself out totally, I will have to let go of the reins with that and allow for my family to help.

I'm keeping positive about the biopsy results, since last time they were negative. So my stress with this day will be my physical condition after and my ability to deal with all the friendly help.

I'm used to being the boss-lady. So if I'm a bit crabby, don't hold it against me. And if I'm saying I'm fine, and asking if you can please just get out...

Get out.

Mean People Suck

I don't plan on being a bitter old lady. I won't live a full life only to be one of those cranky biddies who go around with a chip on my shoulder, looking to make others miserable. I have always adhered to the Golden Rule. It seems many people skipped Sunday School when they taught this rule. Tacks in the teacher's chair, laughing at the kid with the lisp, dreaming up evil ways to make an ex suffer... no, these things don't entertain me. But as a seasoned 40+ year old, I now accept the fact that some people are just plain ole MEAN.

I heard of a friend who is out of work, but his ex-wife wants to up the child support he's still paying her even though she's remarried and what he's paying for his one child is more than I get for my two.

I get to drive with idiots on Mopac who speed up to prevent me from merging or changing lanes and I've been saluted with the middle finger more than once for just trying to myself to work in one piece.

I know noncustodial parents who opt out of their weekend nights with their kids to party instead.

I have coworkers who don't try at all to provide the customer service that I feel is the bare minimum of our job description.

I've had customers who's goal for the day is to Make the Audiologist Cry. Not really because I wouldn't cry about work stuff, but you'd think these folks would laugh in my face if I did.

Does this kind of behavior serve some purpose? Do these people go to sleep with a clear conscience? Do they ever sit quietly at some point in their day and think that maybe they behaved badly? They may have been brought up without a higher being to answer possibly. Or with spiteful parents who showed them how to step on other people to make themselves feel better. How sad.

No matter. I can ignore these people and live my life with a clear mind and heart and try to make others smile.

And besides, I believe in KARMA. And she's a bitch.