"... we understand ... Abel ... Enoch ... Noah ... Abraham ... Isaac ... Jacob ... Joseph ... Moses ... Jericho ... Rahab ... And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel ... Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, ... let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." (Hebrews) This passage was on my mind last week and it seemed rather relevant.
One of the interesting features of blogger.com is that it provides statistics, nothing terribly detailed, just some basics. For example, it tells me how many pageviews (besides my own) my episodes have had and from what countries. There are pageviews from Canada, the U.S., Germany, South Korea and the Ukraine. If I could take a globe and put a tack on each location would it look like a cheering squad around the world or a cloud of witnesses perhaps? I picture someone running a marathon and having spectators at the side cheering them on.
I have a dear friend who said, "Next
time you are tempted to imagine that your "story is getting old", try
to remember this: reading your blogs allows me to feel a tiny bit like I
am walking this path by your side. Please let me do that." I can't even remember birthdays. Why would anyone want to be part of this? And yet, I am so grateful. I think about my cheering squad constantly. Everyday I check my stats and it's like, "Oh, look, someone's thinking about me!" My cousin said, "Just
so you know, you are an inspiration to many and a source of strength."
How is this possible? And, just for the record, the people in my cheering squad have been through way harder things than I'll ever know. They're teaching me, not the other way around.
Last night, I did some self-pitying simply because I can't imagine why people would give up their time just to tend to me:
- My daughter who helps me change my undies
- My husband who cringes every time I wince
- My other daughter who rubs my feet. (Poor thing. That wasn't even necessary. I just felt like getting a foot rub.)
- My third "daughter" who hardly even knows me but carries out my dishes
- The nurses who do all the really nasty stuff that make me pass out
- My sister who booked her plane ticket right away
- My sister-in-law who's taking her first weekend off to drive up and take care of me
- And so many others who through words or actions encourage and help; I am so so humbled.
A couple of years ago, I (with my family) went up north to teach at a very difficult school. I was ill-prepared for the stress and the animosity. One of the local teachers said to me, "The only way you're going to survive up here is if you stick up for yourself. No one else is going to do it for you." He was right. I grew a backbone and I survived (one year, barely). Now, less than two years later, I'm flat on my back completely dependent on the beneficence of others. What exactly is the lesson here? Could the lesson be that regardless of what life throws at us (and trust me, these are races that I did not choose) we will survive? Our lives are so much bigger and more eternal than we can imagine. From the time of Abel, we have a cloud of witnesses cheering us on, regardless of the race we've been given.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Episode 10: Post-Surgery
Today is Thursday. Surgery was on Monday and I finally feel like I have some sustained energy. So here I go. It's time to get some thoughts out of my head and on to paper. According to the surgeon, everything went really well and he took out everything he could see. We'll know next week what exactly that means but for now it's nice to relax. I'm doing very little thinking ahead, partly by choice but also quite a bit because it's just too much to absorb. I really am living one day at a time.
The hospital was great. The staff were fabulous. Everyone took such good care of me. The anesthetist asked me what kind of music I wanted so I sang for him, "I'm going down. I'm yelling timber." He didn't recognize it. Sadly, I also don't think he got the humour either. I was a little disappointed because the night that I stayed, I was in a room for four and I got almost no sleep. They said they do that on purpose. It makes people want to go home.
At home, people have been so great. Friends have been bringing me food and flowers. I asked my surgeon if I should be careful with what I eat. He said absolutely not. This is not the time to worry about it. I need to eat anything and everything I want, especially protein. See why I like him? My parents and children got the house ready and beautiful. My (and Neil's) bedroom was moved downstairs into the sunroom so I could have the washroom and kitchen right beside me. It's kind of funny. This sunroom should be bitterly cold right now. It literally is a sunroom, almost all windows, and at -17 degrees I should be very cold but I'm not. The surgery left me over-heated so I am the best person to be back here.
I think it's a pretty safe bet that I won't opt for reconstruction. Surgery is just not that much fun. I think I can learn to live with a new shape, a little lop-sided perhaps but not much. My problem right now is my arm. Because the surgeon went into the lymph nodes I'm kind of sore under there. As long as I don't move I don't notice but it does make sleeping and getting up for the washroom rather tenuous. The surgeon warned me that I'll likely never pitch for the Blue Jays. I told him that I could learn to live with that but I was more concerned with my career at Hooters. His answer was reconstructive surgery. I think not.
BTW, I have gotten some compliments about my positive attitude and such. Please don't be fooled. I'm not special. I just like to write when I'm happy or have energy but I also have my down times as well. When that happens, I just curl up under the covers and feel sorry for myself until I fall asleep. Writing this blog has helped me with all of this and knowing that you all care has been a great support.
That's a load off my chest.
The hospital was great. The staff were fabulous. Everyone took such good care of me. The anesthetist asked me what kind of music I wanted so I sang for him, "I'm going down. I'm yelling timber." He didn't recognize it. Sadly, I also don't think he got the humour either. I was a little disappointed because the night that I stayed, I was in a room for four and I got almost no sleep. They said they do that on purpose. It makes people want to go home.
At home, people have been so great. Friends have been bringing me food and flowers. I asked my surgeon if I should be careful with what I eat. He said absolutely not. This is not the time to worry about it. I need to eat anything and everything I want, especially protein. See why I like him? My parents and children got the house ready and beautiful. My (and Neil's) bedroom was moved downstairs into the sunroom so I could have the washroom and kitchen right beside me. It's kind of funny. This sunroom should be bitterly cold right now. It literally is a sunroom, almost all windows, and at -17 degrees I should be very cold but I'm not. The surgery left me over-heated so I am the best person to be back here.
I think it's a pretty safe bet that I won't opt for reconstruction. Surgery is just not that much fun. I think I can learn to live with a new shape, a little lop-sided perhaps but not much. My problem right now is my arm. Because the surgeon went into the lymph nodes I'm kind of sore under there. As long as I don't move I don't notice but it does make sleeping and getting up for the washroom rather tenuous. The surgeon warned me that I'll likely never pitch for the Blue Jays. I told him that I could learn to live with that but I was more concerned with my career at Hooters. His answer was reconstructive surgery. I think not.
BTW, I have gotten some compliments about my positive attitude and such. Please don't be fooled. I'm not special. I just like to write when I'm happy or have energy but I also have my down times as well. When that happens, I just curl up under the covers and feel sorry for myself until I fall asleep. Writing this blog has helped me with all of this and knowing that you all care has been a great support.
That's a load off my chest.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Episode 9: Update
Although I feel like my story is getting old and tired, I want to do another episode today just because it may be a couple of weeks before I'm ready for more or have any compelling messages. On Thursday, I go for the pre-surgery bloodwork and then on Monday the 24th I go for the actual surgery so this episode is dedicated to a few more thoughts and updates.
I got a couple of new reports from the doctor. The bone density scan came up with absolutely nothing. The doctor was surprised. He said they usually find something such as a fracture or arthritis but my bones are perfectly clean. What a relief. All those years of not skiing, skating, or jogging are paying off. Long live couch potatoes everywhere! The CT scan found a spot on my liver but that's apparently of no concern. Livers almost always show something. Busted! Maybe I have been drinking more than we thought. (Just kidding, Mom.)
I want to say thank you to those who have been reading my blogs. To know that people enjoy my writing is very rewarding and to be given kind words of encouragement to help me through this upcoming year is very appreciated. I feel very naive and rather humbled right now. I truly have no idea what's coming up and am not qualified to have an opinion. I quite expect that someday I will look back at these episodes and say, "Oh, what an idiot I was" but that's all part of the process, isn't it? Of course the student in grade 12 can smile knowingly at the child in grade 1 but we can't get to grade 12 until we've been through the others.
The other day, I googled "blogs about breast cancer". There were a lot. Most of them I didn't read because I didn't want to risk being depressed. I did, though, read about a lady who had been using Twitter to keep everyone updated about her progress but then she got in trouble from a couple of newspaper editors for tweeting too much. That struck me as odd. If you don't like it, wouldn't you just not follow? I joined facingcancer.ca. I think it's a project of Shopper's Drug Mart. I came across this gem of a quote: “On particularly rough days, when I’m sure I can’t possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100% and that’s pretty good.” http://www.facingcancer.ca/forums/viewthread/351#sthash.tbm9CNHf.dpuf And, on that happy note, I shall sign off,
Until next time, Dawn
I got a couple of new reports from the doctor. The bone density scan came up with absolutely nothing. The doctor was surprised. He said they usually find something such as a fracture or arthritis but my bones are perfectly clean. What a relief. All those years of not skiing, skating, or jogging are paying off. Long live couch potatoes everywhere! The CT scan found a spot on my liver but that's apparently of no concern. Livers almost always show something. Busted! Maybe I have been drinking more than we thought. (Just kidding, Mom.)
I want to say thank you to those who have been reading my blogs. To know that people enjoy my writing is very rewarding and to be given kind words of encouragement to help me through this upcoming year is very appreciated. I feel very naive and rather humbled right now. I truly have no idea what's coming up and am not qualified to have an opinion. I quite expect that someday I will look back at these episodes and say, "Oh, what an idiot I was" but that's all part of the process, isn't it? Of course the student in grade 12 can smile knowingly at the child in grade 1 but we can't get to grade 12 until we've been through the others.
The other day, I googled "blogs about breast cancer". There were a lot. Most of them I didn't read because I didn't want to risk being depressed. I did, though, read about a lady who had been using Twitter to keep everyone updated about her progress but then she got in trouble from a couple of newspaper editors for tweeting too much. That struck me as odd. If you don't like it, wouldn't you just not follow? I joined facingcancer.ca. I think it's a project of Shopper's Drug Mart. I came across this gem of a quote: “On particularly rough days, when I’m sure I can’t possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100% and that’s pretty good.” http://www.facingcancer.ca/forums/viewthread/351#sthash.tbm9CNHf.dpuf And, on that happy note, I shall sign off,
Until next time, Dawn
Episode 8: Another Great Lady
Today, I was blessed by a visit from another fabulous lady who'd been there, done that, got the T-shirt. In fact, she's still there with chemo but she was so up-beat and encouraging. Wow, I need people like her in my life. She was first diagnosed 10 years ago, had a double mastectomy and went on chemotherapy. The cancer came back last summer and she's on chemo again but to look at her you'd never guess. She said that treatments have improved so drastically in the past 10 years that she goes about her daily routines with energy that she didn't used to have. She told me about what to expect and how to get through the day. Her recipe is to:
- lean on God's strength
- do everything you need to do to take care of yourself without apology (eating, exercising, resting)
- surround yourself with people who understand that and
- give yourself one thing everyday to look forward to
She asked me if I was tired. I started to say no because treatment hasn't started yet but then I realized that I have been sleeping alot this winter. She said, "It's the shock." I hadn't thought of that but it makes sense. I think I am a little stunned and also guilty for being lazy. She corrected me and said absolutely not, "You need to rest every chance you get." I feel so fortunate to have a husband and children who are able to carry on even while I'm sleeping. I know they miss me but they've been so gracious to allow me the rest.
I'm just speculating here (well, I guess every episode has been about me speculating) but it seems to me that one of the "perks" about breast cancer is that I can't blame anyone for it. Because there isn't conclusive proof regarding the causes, I don't know who to get mad at. (Although, I have a feeling that before this year is over, I'll think of someone.) And because there's noone to blame, women can share their stories without embarrassment or shame. So rather than pull away from each other, women (with their men) can band together and offer encouragement. At least that's been my experience so far and I am very grateful for the openness.
- lean on God's strength
- do everything you need to do to take care of yourself without apology (eating, exercising, resting)
- surround yourself with people who understand that and
- give yourself one thing everyday to look forward to
She asked me if I was tired. I started to say no because treatment hasn't started yet but then I realized that I have been sleeping alot this winter. She said, "It's the shock." I hadn't thought of that but it makes sense. I think I am a little stunned and also guilty for being lazy. She corrected me and said absolutely not, "You need to rest every chance you get." I feel so fortunate to have a husband and children who are able to carry on even while I'm sleeping. I know they miss me but they've been so gracious to allow me the rest.
I'm just speculating here (well, I guess every episode has been about me speculating) but it seems to me that one of the "perks" about breast cancer is that I can't blame anyone for it. Because there isn't conclusive proof regarding the causes, I don't know who to get mad at. (Although, I have a feeling that before this year is over, I'll think of someone.) And because there's noone to blame, women can share their stories without embarrassment or shame. So rather than pull away from each other, women (with their men) can band together and offer encouragement. At least that's been my experience so far and I am very grateful for the openness.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Episode 7: Cancer 101
I've been working on this episode's draft for quite awhile. It's just not coming together the way it should. The more I learn, the more confused I get. Remember I said I got a whiteboard lesson on cancer. Well,
I want to share some of what I learned. Please take everything I say
with a grain of salt. I'm not a doctor and don't even remember or
understand half of what I've been told. As soon as I can get a copy of Dr. Love's "Breast Book", I'll be an expert (haha).
Apparently, there is a name for my ability to faint, thought that was kind of cool. And the nurse told me that it's completely involuntary (i.e. it's not just me being silly, so there). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasovagal_response
I really like the following links. These guys are reputable.
https://www.cancercare.on.ca/
http://www.mayoclinic.org/
https://www.facebook.com/breastcancersocietyofcanada?fref=ts
http://www.cancer.ca/en/cancer-information/cancer-type/breast/pathology-and-staging/malignant-tumours/dcis/?region=bc
Here's what I think I learned. There are over 200 types of cancer. Most cancers follow rules and are relatively predictable. Unfortunately, breast cancer isn't one of those. It doesn't play by the rules. 1 in 9 women have breast cancer. We have no idea yet what causes it. It's likely a combination of several things (e.g. lifestyle, environment, genetics). In fact, the township next door to mine is conducting a survey to find out why there seem to be so many women in this area who have breast cancer. Has anyone seen the movie, "Erin Brokovich"? She's my hero. My surgeon said that there are only two things that hold true: if you're a woman and you have breasts then you're at risk. In fact, I went through the Mayo Clinic's list of risk factors and I've never done any of those things. I'm not obese, never smoked, don't drink, blah, blah, blah. Genetics may play a part but even that's relatively unpredictable.
Back in the early days when surgery was done, a woman would be anesthetized not knowing whether or not a lumpectomy would be sufficient or if a mastectomy would have been performed. Only when she woke up would she find out what had been done. Now, they can prepare women a bit better for what's going to happen. In my case, a lumpectomy is not a good option because there are two lumps and I would end up looking "weird" afterwards. Also, because one of the lumps is surrounded by DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ) cells, the plan is to remove the whole thing along with any further risk of spreading. DCIS is one of the most treatable of the cancers, so good news for me.
But I'm confused. Apparently, there are a lot of women who are receiving surgery and treatment even though they don't need it. I'm so confused. http://www.cbc.ca/news/health/breast-cancer-death-rates-in-canada-didn-t-improve-with-mammograms-1.2532730 So that's my next question for the doctor: are we sure this is necessary?
As I learn more, I will revise Episode 7.
Apparently, there is a name for my ability to faint, thought that was kind of cool. And the nurse told me that it's completely involuntary (i.e. it's not just me being silly, so there). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasovagal_response
I really like the following links. These guys are reputable.
https://www.cancercare.on.ca/
http://www.mayoclinic.org/
https://www.facebook.com/breastcancersocietyofcanada?fref=ts
http://www.cancer.ca/en/cancer-information/cancer-type/breast/pathology-and-staging/malignant-tumours/dcis/?region=bc
Here's what I think I learned. There are over 200 types of cancer. Most cancers follow rules and are relatively predictable. Unfortunately, breast cancer isn't one of those. It doesn't play by the rules. 1 in 9 women have breast cancer. We have no idea yet what causes it. It's likely a combination of several things (e.g. lifestyle, environment, genetics). In fact, the township next door to mine is conducting a survey to find out why there seem to be so many women in this area who have breast cancer. Has anyone seen the movie, "Erin Brokovich"? She's my hero. My surgeon said that there are only two things that hold true: if you're a woman and you have breasts then you're at risk. In fact, I went through the Mayo Clinic's list of risk factors and I've never done any of those things. I'm not obese, never smoked, don't drink, blah, blah, blah. Genetics may play a part but even that's relatively unpredictable.
Back in the early days when surgery was done, a woman would be anesthetized not knowing whether or not a lumpectomy would be sufficient or if a mastectomy would have been performed. Only when she woke up would she find out what had been done. Now, they can prepare women a bit better for what's going to happen. In my case, a lumpectomy is not a good option because there are two lumps and I would end up looking "weird" afterwards. Also, because one of the lumps is surrounded by DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ) cells, the plan is to remove the whole thing along with any further risk of spreading. DCIS is one of the most treatable of the cancers, so good news for me.
But I'm confused. Apparently, there are a lot of women who are receiving surgery and treatment even though they don't need it. I'm so confused. http://www.cbc.ca/news/health/breast-cancer-death-rates-in-canada-didn-t-improve-with-mammograms-1.2532730 So that's my next question for the doctor: are we sure this is necessary?
As I learn more, I will revise Episode 7.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Episode 6: Update
Irony: For 20 years, I kept my hair short trying to maintain professional looking well-kept styles. It doesn't work for me so two years ago I gave up and went back to the ponytail look. I haven't cut my hair since. Haha, this year it won't matter anymore. Go figure.
So, not a whole lot to share. Today, I got a CT scan and a Bone Density scan. Very easy procedures but I spent the evening feeling quite ill, most likely due to the lack of caffeine and an over-abundance of water in my system. I kept thinking how tired I am of all this and we can quit now. The thrill of the adventure has worn off. We can all go home.
Yesterday, my very sweet neighbour and friend gave me a brand new quilt that she had made. She called it my chemo-comforter for those days when I don't feel like getting off the sofa. What a beautiful gift.
I have become very aware that most likely it is my husband who is hurting the most through all this. He has always been so devoted to me and I know that if I were the one watching him feel sick, I wouldn't be coping very well. But not only does he have to watch me feel ill, he also has to keep moving forward, paying the bills, running the household, supporting the kids. I get to lie in bed and let people care for me but he has to soldier on.
Yesterday, we met with my family physician. She was very encouraging but also very straight-up. She said that because of my young age for this, the cancer will be treated very aggressively. I think that's the nice way of saying that my best hope for recovery is, "do it now and do it fast" and also that I'm strong enough (as opposed to an older person) to withstand the rigueur. She told me that I should take a year off from work and that I can expect to feel horrible. She also said that everyone's different and some people breeze through quite quickly and others take a little longer. And that the gains or strides in cancer treatment in the past five years have been huge. She also told us that the province's health insurance does cover everything so that was good news. As a supply teacher, I have no health plan or benefits so we were looking into buying a plan but looks like we won't need to worry about it for this. And I do have insurance on my credit cards, so that'll take a load off.
London has declined to the reconstructive surgery immediately. As long as there is a possibility that I might need radiation they would rather wait because radiation can damage implants and then further surgery would be required to fix things, so it's better just to wait until after. Fine with me. Hah, let me tell you about London. I got a copy of their report today and they made a mistake. And it hurts my honour so tomorrow I must make a phone call. I am not a drinker of alcoholic beverages. Once a year, if someone has a bottle of wine for their birthday, is about the extent of my drinking. And even at that, it's likely not that often. It's just not a habit we need to encourage in ourselves or our children. Anyway, on my questionaire, I wrote down "once a year". The young resident who wrote the report accidently typed in "one drink a day". That's a little bit different! And, to top it off, I'm already on daily medication which does not mix with alcohol. Do I look stupid enough to mix the two on a daily basis? I think not. So, there's a lesson learned: read your medical reports.
That reminds me, when I was expecting our second child I was scheduled for a C-section. When I checked in at the hospital, they gave me the wrong identification card. I didn't notice until the nurse came running up to me and asked to switch. I looked at the card and it was for a man. The poor guy! What they might have done to him looking for a baby ...
Goodnight all.
So, not a whole lot to share. Today, I got a CT scan and a Bone Density scan. Very easy procedures but I spent the evening feeling quite ill, most likely due to the lack of caffeine and an over-abundance of water in my system. I kept thinking how tired I am of all this and we can quit now. The thrill of the adventure has worn off. We can all go home.
Yesterday, my very sweet neighbour and friend gave me a brand new quilt that she had made. She called it my chemo-comforter for those days when I don't feel like getting off the sofa. What a beautiful gift.
I have become very aware that most likely it is my husband who is hurting the most through all this. He has always been so devoted to me and I know that if I were the one watching him feel sick, I wouldn't be coping very well. But not only does he have to watch me feel ill, he also has to keep moving forward, paying the bills, running the household, supporting the kids. I get to lie in bed and let people care for me but he has to soldier on.
Yesterday, we met with my family physician. She was very encouraging but also very straight-up. She said that because of my young age for this, the cancer will be treated very aggressively. I think that's the nice way of saying that my best hope for recovery is, "do it now and do it fast" and also that I'm strong enough (as opposed to an older person) to withstand the rigueur. She told me that I should take a year off from work and that I can expect to feel horrible. She also said that everyone's different and some people breeze through quite quickly and others take a little longer. And that the gains or strides in cancer treatment in the past five years have been huge. She also told us that the province's health insurance does cover everything so that was good news. As a supply teacher, I have no health plan or benefits so we were looking into buying a plan but looks like we won't need to worry about it for this. And I do have insurance on my credit cards, so that'll take a load off.
London has declined to the reconstructive surgery immediately. As long as there is a possibility that I might need radiation they would rather wait because radiation can damage implants and then further surgery would be required to fix things, so it's better just to wait until after. Fine with me. Hah, let me tell you about London. I got a copy of their report today and they made a mistake. And it hurts my honour so tomorrow I must make a phone call. I am not a drinker of alcoholic beverages. Once a year, if someone has a bottle of wine for their birthday, is about the extent of my drinking. And even at that, it's likely not that often. It's just not a habit we need to encourage in ourselves or our children. Anyway, on my questionaire, I wrote down "once a year". The young resident who wrote the report accidently typed in "one drink a day". That's a little bit different! And, to top it off, I'm already on daily medication which does not mix with alcohol. Do I look stupid enough to mix the two on a daily basis? I think not. So, there's a lesson learned: read your medical reports.
That reminds me, when I was expecting our second child I was scheduled for a C-section. When I checked in at the hospital, they gave me the wrong identification card. I didn't notice until the nurse came running up to me and asked to switch. I looked at the card and it was for a man. The poor guy! What they might have done to him looking for a baby ...
Goodnight all.
Saturday, February 08, 2014
Episode 5: Conversation
I was intending to use this episode to write about the science of cancer but before I do I must tell you all about this incredible lady I spoke with yesterday on the telephone. We haven't met in person yet but what an encouragement she was. She had been introduced to me by a mutual friend and I was told to call her. To be quite honest, I was very wary of making the call. I just wasn't sure I wanted to hear what she would have to say. I couldn't have been more wrong. She was exactly what I needed. (Remember one of my tips about sharing your story and empathy. It worked.) She
had been there, done that, got the t-shirt. This lovely lady was so amazing because she knew exactly what was
going on, on so many levels. And the best part was that she called it an
adventure: the same word that I had used but she could use the word
with authority. She knew what she was talking about and she was able
to put everything into its proper perspective. This is an adventure.
That's all. I love adventures. Who knows? Maybe I was complaining about
being bored.
She gave me tips on how to prepare for the surgery. I should wax (my under-arms, not my breast) beforehand because I won't want to or be able to shave afterwards. Hilarious, huh? Who in a million of years would have thought of that? She gave me the name of a good book to read called, "The Breast Book". Now I'm off to the library to find it. She gave me a bit of a timeline. For her, it took about two years to feel like she was back to her original energy levels. She told me that compared to two C-sections, this will be a piece of cake. She told me what the scar would look like. She also personally knows the doctors and other staff at the same hospital and told me that my surgeon is one of the best. She articulated feelings I've been having but hadn't put into words yet. For example, she identified the guilt that I feel for letting people down. [At the age of 49, I should be at the height of my career and earning power. (Is that the right term?) I should be putting money aside for my children. I should be putting money aside for my retirement. I should be commanding the respect of my colleagues and students because of my awesomeness as an educator. (Woohoo, doesn't that sound impressive.) I should be the right-hand to my husband as he turns our business into an un-paralleled success story. I should be visiting and caring for my parents who have done so much for me over the years. I should be ... Stink, now I'm gonna cry.] Focus, Dawn, focus.
She also told me that in many ways the phase that I'm in now is the hardest part. The waiting and the wondering is really tough because it lets the imagination run wild with all kinds of horrible scenarios. Once treatment begins, I can start to feel like I'm in control again. What a relief to think in those terms! When we were finished, she complimented me by saying that I sound like I have a "good head on my shoulders" and that laughter truly is the best medicine. My best defense will be a good sense of humour and high-spirits. A few people have said that I'm doing well in that department. Wouldn't that be great if the things that I do naturally are the very things that will help me the most? That's my kind of work. Lazy.
Stay tuned for Introduction to Cancer 101.
End of Episode 5
She gave me tips on how to prepare for the surgery. I should wax (my under-arms, not my breast) beforehand because I won't want to or be able to shave afterwards. Hilarious, huh? Who in a million of years would have thought of that? She gave me the name of a good book to read called, "The Breast Book". Now I'm off to the library to find it. She gave me a bit of a timeline. For her, it took about two years to feel like she was back to her original energy levels. She told me that compared to two C-sections, this will be a piece of cake. She told me what the scar would look like. She also personally knows the doctors and other staff at the same hospital and told me that my surgeon is one of the best. She articulated feelings I've been having but hadn't put into words yet. For example, she identified the guilt that I feel for letting people down. [At the age of 49, I should be at the height of my career and earning power. (Is that the right term?) I should be putting money aside for my children. I should be putting money aside for my retirement. I should be commanding the respect of my colleagues and students because of my awesomeness as an educator. (Woohoo, doesn't that sound impressive.) I should be the right-hand to my husband as he turns our business into an un-paralleled success story. I should be visiting and caring for my parents who have done so much for me over the years. I should be ... Stink, now I'm gonna cry.] Focus, Dawn, focus.
She also told me that in many ways the phase that I'm in now is the hardest part. The waiting and the wondering is really tough because it lets the imagination run wild with all kinds of horrible scenarios. Once treatment begins, I can start to feel like I'm in control again. What a relief to think in those terms! When we were finished, she complimented me by saying that I sound like I have a "good head on my shoulders" and that laughter truly is the best medicine. My best defense will be a good sense of humour and high-spirits. A few people have said that I'm doing well in that department. Wouldn't that be great if the things that I do naturally are the very things that will help me the most? That's my kind of work. Lazy.
Stay tuned for Introduction to Cancer 101.
End of Episode 5
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
Episode 4: Observations
So that pretty much brings us up to today. No treatment yet but lots of waiting and wondering. This news about me has made a lot of people around me go weird. So I want to share some observations I have made and some hints I could offer. I'd like to highlight that I've noticed some people who are so afraid of saying the wrong thing that they're tripping all over themselves trying to get it right. Don't worry about it. I am so wrapped up in myself right now (more than usual) that there almost is no wrong thing. I'm not losing sleep over who said what. This is a learning process. I've never done this before and am finding out for myself for the first time what helps and what doesn't. So in the spirit of fun and education, here are my observations.
What not to say:
- don't tell me it's on account of my poor eating habits - how could someone else presume to know what my eating habits have been for the past 50 years
- don't tell me that God's going to use me to heal relationships - not my problem; they can figure that out for themselves
- don't presume to know more than my doctors - I quite like them
- don't don't don't feel sorry for me!!! If you are sad and feel sorry for me then I am obligated to try and make you feel better and well, I just don't really want to have to care right now
- don't let it change you - I'm still me and you should be you
What to say:
- tell me I'm going to save money on hair accessories - I love that
- and that I'm finally probably going to lose these extra 20 pounds around my middle, yaaay! (I mean, I can say that, no one else can)
- tell me you're going to make pie - I like pie
- share your own stories and experiences - this is a learning process and I am open to empathy
- remind me of how many people we know who have done this - I read that the rate is actually 1 in 9 women have breast cancer; that's a lot but it also shows me that this will be do-able
- visit the Breast Cancer Society of Canada's facebook page
- hugs are nice
- extra help is nice - I'm very fortunate to have a wonderful husband and mature young ladies as my children but asking them to take over all the cooking, cleaning, laundry is a bit much; offers will not be refused
- jokes are good, even "boob" jokes like "how can someone like me even get breast cancer?" Who knew? :)
End of Episode 4
What not to say:
- don't tell me it's on account of my poor eating habits - how could someone else presume to know what my eating habits have been for the past 50 years
- don't tell me that God's going to use me to heal relationships - not my problem; they can figure that out for themselves
- don't presume to know more than my doctors - I quite like them
- don't don't don't feel sorry for me!!! If you are sad and feel sorry for me then I am obligated to try and make you feel better and well, I just don't really want to have to care right now
- don't let it change you - I'm still me and you should be you
What to say:
- tell me I'm going to save money on hair accessories - I love that
- and that I'm finally probably going to lose these extra 20 pounds around my middle, yaaay! (I mean, I can say that, no one else can)
- tell me you're going to make pie - I like pie
- share your own stories and experiences - this is a learning process and I am open to empathy
- remind me of how many people we know who have done this - I read that the rate is actually 1 in 9 women have breast cancer; that's a lot but it also shows me that this will be do-able
- visit the Breast Cancer Society of Canada's facebook page
- hugs are nice
- extra help is nice - I'm very fortunate to have a wonderful husband and mature young ladies as my children but asking them to take over all the cooking, cleaning, laundry is a bit much; offers will not be refused
- jokes are good, even "boob" jokes like "how can someone like me even get breast cancer?" Who knew? :)
End of Episode 4
Episode 3: Diagnosis
My next week (or more) is going to be filled with doctors' appointments so I'm going to get Episode 3 going today in case I don't have time later.
After the biopsies, I was scheduled to see the surgeon who would go through the diagnosis with me and give me a very quick whiteboard lesson on cancer. Because my imagination was running wild with all kinds of horrible scenarios my very first question to him was, "Is this a death sentence?" He assured me that it most definitely is not. I am very relieved and grateful for the assurance because I needed something to tell my children (who by the way are 15 & 17 years old and are the best teenagers a mother could ask for). And, because I am so relieved, I am currently facing this process with a much cheerier disposition then I might otherwise have had.
I have a Stage 2 Grade 3 cancer. The stage refers to the spread on a rating scale of 1-4. Stage 1 is a lump going nowhere. Stages 2 & 3 are the spreading stages (i.e. under the arm) and Stage 4 is the spread throughout the body. The grades are on a scale of 1-3 referring to the aggressiveness of the cancer. I have a grade 3 which is the most aggressive grade. I am going to have a Modified Radical Mastectomy. The radical means that the whole breast will be removed. The modified means that they can remove it without touching muscle. We are not expecting that I will need radiation because it appears that the lumps are not touching muscle and therefore can be safely removed through surgery. We are expecting chemotherapy because of the lump under the arm. The only way to remove it and to prevent further spreading is through medication. I will also be booked for a CAT scan and a Bone scan.
The question before me now is whether or not I want re-constructive surgery to install a synthetic breast. I have an appointment tomorrow with a second surgeon in London for more feedback. I also have an appointment on Tuesday with a plastic surgeon. My feeling at this point is that I do want to have the re-constructive surgery simply because I want to get myself back to looking normal as quickly as possible and, in so far as possible, put this adventure behind me.
After the biopsies, I was scheduled to see the surgeon who would go through the diagnosis with me and give me a very quick whiteboard lesson on cancer. Because my imagination was running wild with all kinds of horrible scenarios my very first question to him was, "Is this a death sentence?" He assured me that it most definitely is not. I am very relieved and grateful for the assurance because I needed something to tell my children (who by the way are 15 & 17 years old and are the best teenagers a mother could ask for). And, because I am so relieved, I am currently facing this process with a much cheerier disposition then I might otherwise have had.
I have a Stage 2 Grade 3 cancer. The stage refers to the spread on a rating scale of 1-4. Stage 1 is a lump going nowhere. Stages 2 & 3 are the spreading stages (i.e. under the arm) and Stage 4 is the spread throughout the body. The grades are on a scale of 1-3 referring to the aggressiveness of the cancer. I have a grade 3 which is the most aggressive grade. I am going to have a Modified Radical Mastectomy. The radical means that the whole breast will be removed. The modified means that they can remove it without touching muscle. We are not expecting that I will need radiation because it appears that the lumps are not touching muscle and therefore can be safely removed through surgery. We are expecting chemotherapy because of the lump under the arm. The only way to remove it and to prevent further spreading is through medication. I will also be booked for a CAT scan and a Bone scan.
The question before me now is whether or not I want re-constructive surgery to install a synthetic breast. I have an appointment tomorrow with a second surgeon in London for more feedback. I also have an appointment on Tuesday with a plastic surgeon. My feeling at this point is that I do want to have the re-constructive surgery simply because I want to get myself back to looking normal as quickly as possible and, in so far as possible, put this adventure behind me.
Episode 2: Meltdown
Beginning Episode 2: The mammogram
On January 13 my mother and I thought we'd do a bit of shopping after my very quick and easy routine mammogram in Stratford. Mom would wait in the waiting room and I would be out shortly. Unknown to either of us, I was to go from mammogram to ultra-sound. That was not on my paperwork so I don't know if the GP had scheduled it or if the mammogram people wanted it. This is where things got a little more interesting. I could see the screen of the ultra-sound and it meant absolutely nothing to me. However, I could also see the face of the technician so I spent my time trying to figure out what she was seeing and whether or not she always looked so serious at work or if there was something interesting going on. After she was finished, she said I should wait for her to come back while she "printed" off the pictures. She didn't come back. Instead, the head nurse came in after awhile and said that normally they send people home and then make an appointment for a biopsy but since I was already there I might as well have a biopsy done right away. This is my second clue that things aren't going exactly as I had planned. I asked them to please have someone talk to my mother because she's been waiting for quite awhile and has had no word on what's happening. (And the poor thing, I hadn't told her about the lump so this is all really a surprise for her.)
All of a sudden the room is filled (5-6 I'm guessing) with hospital staff. I think they even called someone out of a meeting for this. And I am being treated with the utmost of speed and compassion. Seriously people, it's a lot of trouble for a couple of lumps. The staff are fantastic. They keep talking to me and telling me what's happening and, believe it or not, I'm keeping them entertained with funny stories. I have turned into a real chatterbox. I think I do that when I'm nervous. I don't mind. It's good to hear people laugh. And wouldn't you know it, I am one of those people, apparently a rare phenomena, who faints. One nurse explained that there seems to be a trigger in some people that when a needle hits a nerve it sends a chain reaction through that causes some people to faint. I was glad to hear this because I know I'm not a wimp but this fainting thing is honestly somewhat uncontrollable. They are so sweet. They bring me apple juice to keep my sugar levels up. They hold my feet up in the air and lower my head to keep me conscious. Nurses are my heroes. They have done three biopsies. Yes, three. I didn't know that was possible. Two on my breast and one under my arm. I guess that's my third clue that things aren't going well. We already know that under the arm is not a good place to find something, except maybe hair, if you're a guy, which I'm not. If I was I'd be telling a different story.
Finally, the dust has settled. I'm alert and sitting on the bed with the nurse. I look at her and can't hold back the tears. Sobbing, "My kids don't need this right now." She says, "Always the mother, aren't we?" Yes, we are. Who in their right mind asks their kids to even think about such things as this? I can handle anything but not the idea of hurting my children. After I'm feeling a little stronger, the nurse escorts me to a room with a sofa and disappears to make me a cup of tea, no sugar, just cream. Thank you very much. I told you they were sweet. Sitting on the sofa is my own dear mother patiently waiting for me. As soon as I saw her, I fell on her lap and bawled like a baby. All I could manage to say was, "They're worried."
End of Episode 2
On January 13 my mother and I thought we'd do a bit of shopping after my very quick and easy routine mammogram in Stratford. Mom would wait in the waiting room and I would be out shortly. Unknown to either of us, I was to go from mammogram to ultra-sound. That was not on my paperwork so I don't know if the GP had scheduled it or if the mammogram people wanted it. This is where things got a little more interesting. I could see the screen of the ultra-sound and it meant absolutely nothing to me. However, I could also see the face of the technician so I spent my time trying to figure out what she was seeing and whether or not she always looked so serious at work or if there was something interesting going on. After she was finished, she said I should wait for her to come back while she "printed" off the pictures. She didn't come back. Instead, the head nurse came in after awhile and said that normally they send people home and then make an appointment for a biopsy but since I was already there I might as well have a biopsy done right away. This is my second clue that things aren't going exactly as I had planned. I asked them to please have someone talk to my mother because she's been waiting for quite awhile and has had no word on what's happening. (And the poor thing, I hadn't told her about the lump so this is all really a surprise for her.)
All of a sudden the room is filled (5-6 I'm guessing) with hospital staff. I think they even called someone out of a meeting for this. And I am being treated with the utmost of speed and compassion. Seriously people, it's a lot of trouble for a couple of lumps. The staff are fantastic. They keep talking to me and telling me what's happening and, believe it or not, I'm keeping them entertained with funny stories. I have turned into a real chatterbox. I think I do that when I'm nervous. I don't mind. It's good to hear people laugh. And wouldn't you know it, I am one of those people, apparently a rare phenomena, who faints. One nurse explained that there seems to be a trigger in some people that when a needle hits a nerve it sends a chain reaction through that causes some people to faint. I was glad to hear this because I know I'm not a wimp but this fainting thing is honestly somewhat uncontrollable. They are so sweet. They bring me apple juice to keep my sugar levels up. They hold my feet up in the air and lower my head to keep me conscious. Nurses are my heroes. They have done three biopsies. Yes, three. I didn't know that was possible. Two on my breast and one under my arm. I guess that's my third clue that things aren't going well. We already know that under the arm is not a good place to find something, except maybe hair, if you're a guy, which I'm not. If I was I'd be telling a different story.
Finally, the dust has settled. I'm alert and sitting on the bed with the nurse. I look at her and can't hold back the tears. Sobbing, "My kids don't need this right now." She says, "Always the mother, aren't we?" Yes, we are. Who in their right mind asks their kids to even think about such things as this? I can handle anything but not the idea of hurting my children. After I'm feeling a little stronger, the nurse escorts me to a room with a sofa and disappears to make me a cup of tea, no sugar, just cream. Thank you very much. I told you they were sweet. Sitting on the sofa is my own dear mother patiently waiting for me. As soon as I saw her, I fell on her lap and bawled like a baby. All I could manage to say was, "They're worried."
End of Episode 2
Episode 1: Preliminaries
When I found out that I have breast cancer, I was playing with the idea of starting a blog. Mostly for my own sake because I like to write and writing helps me think and what better topic is there to think about: me. I didn't follow through but over the past couple of months I noticed that people around me were getting weird and I started to make a few observations about what would and would not be helpful conversations. This morning, through the encouragement of a friend, I have decided to venture into the world of blogging and share with you all my observations. (Disclaimer: if you find yourself in these words, please do not be offended or insulted. This latest adventure is a learning process for all of us.)
Back in early November (2013), I noticed a lump on my breast. No big deal really. I've had lumps removed before - on the top of my head, on my jawline - so I wasn't particularly worried but thought getting checked might be a good idea. I'm 49 1/2 and mammograms typically start at 50 so I called my family doctor (GP) and asked for a mammogram. The office said no I couldn't have one because I'm not old enough. I told them that I would like to be seen anyway. So they booked me in for the end of January. A few weeks later, the lump was still there (sometimes lumps are a result of PMS and go away by themselves) so I called again and said I really think I should be checked so they moved my appointment to the end of December.
When I saw the doctor, he found a second lump but said that they have the kind of "feel", whatever that means, of lumps that are perfectly harmless which is what I had thought. Remember, I've had lumps before that meant nothing. But he did schedule me for a mammogram for January 13 (exactly 6 months before my birthday). Because neither he or I were concerned, I almost didn't keep the appointment. Why waste everyone's time?
End of Episode 1.
Back in early November (2013), I noticed a lump on my breast. No big deal really. I've had lumps removed before - on the top of my head, on my jawline - so I wasn't particularly worried but thought getting checked might be a good idea. I'm 49 1/2 and mammograms typically start at 50 so I called my family doctor (GP) and asked for a mammogram. The office said no I couldn't have one because I'm not old enough. I told them that I would like to be seen anyway. So they booked me in for the end of January. A few weeks later, the lump was still there (sometimes lumps are a result of PMS and go away by themselves) so I called again and said I really think I should be checked so they moved my appointment to the end of December.
When I saw the doctor, he found a second lump but said that they have the kind of "feel", whatever that means, of lumps that are perfectly harmless which is what I had thought. Remember, I've had lumps before that meant nothing. But he did schedule me for a mammogram for January 13 (exactly 6 months before my birthday). Because neither he or I were concerned, I almost didn't keep the appointment. Why waste everyone's time?
End of Episode 1.
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