Other's writing

I heard this blog referred to on NPR before I was ever diagnosed with cancer. I started reading this some time after my treatment started. He says many profound things, and I just wanted to share something he wrote earlier in the week. The auhor is Leroy Seivers, and next Monday he will be going through a spinalectomy. He has metastatic cancer from colon cancer (listen to those who are putting off colonoscopy). The title is the link to his daily blog. He makes me look like a wimp.

Does Cancer Make Us Cowardly?

“How many of us would love to run away from our disease? From the treatments, the side effects, the pain? ... We can't run away. So we are left with only one choice. Stand and face it. ”

I was watching an old episode of Boston Legal the other day. I won't try to summarize the plot, but a cancer patient was on the stand in a trial. In the course of his testimony, he said, "Cancer makes cowards of us all." It's one of those lines that grabs your attention. It was clearly meant to. And I kept thinking about it long after I was done with the episode.
I think it's wrong. Wrong meaning incorrect, not morally wrong. Cancer, as we all know far too well, is scary. It's more than scary, it's terrifying. It's worse than any horror movie out there. Sometimes the fear it brings can be almost paralyzing. Except that it's not. I think cancer tries to make cowards of us all. And fails.
To me, a coward is someone who runs away, who fails to act out of fear. No cancer patient is a coward, for one very simple reason. We're not allowed to be. How many of us would love to run away from our disease? From the treatments, the side effects, the pain? At some point, we have all felt that. But it's just not one of the options. We can't run away. So we are left with only one choice. Stand and face it.
We've talked before about how often people tell us how brave we are. I don't think that's right either. We are challenged by this disease, and we rise to the challenge because there really is no other choice. People are much stronger than they think. It's just that many people are never tested.
My cancer has scared me. It scares me pretty much on a daily basis. It scares me when it hides, when it grows, when it surprises me. But make me a coward? Never.
Leroy Sievers

Better and better...

That is my Dad's answer when people ask how he's doing. It always brings a smile to my face when I hear it. Aging like a fine wine is how I think of it.
That is how I'm doing, too. All of the steri-strips are off, and can you believe that the surgery wounds are held together with super-glue? I've had no infections, and the pain holds off until the end of the day or when I accidentally bump into anything. My stamina still is pretty low, and it is driving me crazy because mentally I'm ready to go back to work.
I went to the urologist today to have the stints removed that went from my kidneys to the bladder. OUCH!!! I hoped after having the hysterectomy I would be done "taking the position," but I'm not that lucky. He said that everything looked good, but I have to go back in a month to double check. I'm very fond of all my doctors, but this guy always puts a smile on my face. He wears Hawaiian shirts and has the warm personality to go with them.
I'm off to take a nap and dream sweet dreams.

The Amazing Foob

I am one of the lucky ones who were able to start reconstruction immediately after the mastectomy. Well, I SAY lucky, but the main reason I'm not going through radiation is because there are too many places to radiate. Right now I'm in the first stage of reconstruction. During the mastectomy, an expander was put into a pocket made under one of my pectoral muscles. The expander had 200cc of saline in when I woke up from surgery. I've had 3 fills of 50cc each so far, and it looks like I'm a flexing Mr. Universe contestant. I will keep going in twice a week for fills until it is the size needed to be equal to the other side. After that, I will schedule an exchange surgery to get a more comfortable, softer, and yes, perkier new boob. I think during or after the exchange surgery, I will be eligible to make sure both breasts match, and have a nipple installed and tattooed if I choose.

There are times, especially when I try to sleep, I hate the darn thing. It is not only stretching the skin but the muscle and other soft tissue. The muscle hasn't been very happy with this, and has fought back with muscle spasms and intense soreness.

Other than dealing with the foob (a word I stole but wish I made up), I've been healing and doing better and better. I wish I was good enough to go to work, but my stamina is still pretty low. I've spent time sitting outside in the cooler weather (80's to low 90's), and watching StarTrek re-runs. (yep, I'm a geek) Life is great, and I totally feel blessed to have that nasty cancer out of my body. I know I will always have to be checked and be treated for it, but I know my long term chances for survival have increased and will follow whatever plan God has for me. I will also begin to fight all kinds of cancers because nobody should have to go through what I or any of the wonderful, strong, beautiful people I've met through this have.

What my life comes down to now...

My life hasn't been very exciting lately. I've visited with all the surgeons already, and all they seem to care about is what comes out. It reminded me of a Scrubs episode song that I made a link to. I hope you have fun watching it.

I am getting stronger. I walk to the end of the block and back on my own. I went to WalMart with Chris on Saturday and it was all I could do to walk to the back of the store and up. I am too tired to feel bored yet. My life is pretty much sleep, books, doctors, sleep...pretty boring.

Just wanted to leave an update.

Filling in the blanks...very long

I have found when speaking to people that there are lots of blanks left in the surgery story since there was a scare that put everything else on hold, so I thought I'd fill in the blanks to fill in the blanks. I 'll just start from the beginning...

When I went in for surgery Monday morning, I was given an IV, visited with each doctor plus their physician assistants and interns. I also had visitors and calls from all over Oklahoma and Texas. I felt loved and cared for, believe me... The surgeon who performed the mastectomy went to a breast cancer seminar the weekend before and learned about a lymph node mapping system that would dye the nodes that belonged to the arm so that just the breast nodes would be taken, and that would give me a MUCH less chance of developing a nasty condition called lymphedema. I was rolled into the OR just after noon and was finally given the "happy juice" that I was promised that would relax any anxiety I had. I remember friendly eyes looking behind surgery masks from all over the OR, and then I went to la-la land. The surgeries went great. I was told the surgeries would take up to five hours, but things went so smoothly, I was out of the OR in 3 1/2 hours. The hysterectomy was first. There was a surprise cyst on my ovary about the size of a grapefruit with lots of scarring on the ovary. That explains a lot from my teen and adult years. The mastectomy was next and the expander was placed in last. I woke up in recovery feeling pretty good. I remember trying to focus on the time, and the kind nurse with me told me how smoothly everything went. I remember noticing my chest was bound tightly and it was hard to breathe, but I didn't feel too bad...

When I was wheeled to my room, it is reported that I made a few phone calls, but I don't remember any of them. I do remember Chris laughing at me while he asked for a dictation for my blog, and was told I was acting like a drunk college student. After a while, I felt a lot of pressure on my abdomen and wanted to go to the bathroom. I was told that I couldn't feel that way since I had a catheter, but looking at the catheter showed nothing. I had several nurses try different sizes of catheters...but nothing would come out of the bladder. Calls started going to the surgeon...and she had some of the doctors come from the emergency room to take a look at me...still nothing. I was given shots, given new caths, took the cath out and sat on the toilet...nothing. Finally at 3:30 AM, the surgeon came in and sent me to the ICU. Meanwhile, I was given a lot of drugs because I in lots of pain. A kidney specialist was called in, and I was given new catheters in my groin area to have dialysis. My potassium levels were at very high levels, and the next concern would be a heart attack. During the next day, I was in and out of consciousness while various tests were being run, and no one could figure out why my kidneys weren't giving the bladder anything to empty. I remember a sonogram being done since the tech had to press against my new incisions and then my sides to look at the kidneys. I think by the evening when an OR was open, I was taken back into surgery to take a physical look at what was going on. I remember Dr. C giving me 3 options...and the first one she said was correct.

I remember being wheeled into the OR, and even making a joke or two with the friendly eyes behind the masks. They told me they were going into the previous incisions to fix me, and I gave them my full confidence before the "happy juice" sent me back to la-la land. I lost a lot of blood, and it was hard to see what was wrong, but the freak of the problem is that when I had my hysterectomy, the leftover organs have to be sutured back to the abdominal walls and given a place. One of the sutures made the muscle against my ureters swelled and made the lines between the kidneys and bladder kink up like a cheap water hose. Stints were placed, and the lines were open immediately. (yippie!) The bad news is that I lost some blood and would have to be given a couple of pints of blood to help the healing process along.

My knowledge of blood comes from MASH, and I just thought I could give them my type and get a couple of units in my body in an hour. This wasn't so. Blood transfusions have to be cross-typed in many different ways, and it takes hours for a transfusion to go in. Someone has to constantly be with the one getting a transfusion constantly because there is a chance of an allergic reaction to the foreign body. It takes hours for each little unit to go in, but it is for a reason. I remember my dad (who NEVER likes to sleep away from his own bed) somewhere about 3:30 in the morning. One of his best friends drove him from Amarillo, and I think then I realized the seriousness of what just happened. Drugs or no drugs. I think I got a little sleep, but I must have been feeling better, because I was pointing the finger with the heart rate monitor that turns the finger red at everybody croaking "BEEEE GOOOOOOD" ala ET (Extra Terrestrial, not Entertainment Tonight). I thought I was pretty darn funny, but I think I was the only one.

Things were going very well, so I was moved to a room. I was very disappointed to hear that I would be spending a few extra days in the hospital due to the second operation, but was more disappointed to hear that I wouldn't get any more pain shots and had to ask for pills from then on. The shots were SO nice with the instant pain relief.

The rest is recorded, but I'll do a quick note on the pathology reports:
...NO live cancer found in the breast tissue
...NO cancer PERIOD found in the the lymph nodes
...no problems found besides the cyst on the hysterectomy parts

GOD IS GREAT!!!!

The ugly side of recovery

I haven't felt like posting in the last few days since my life has been reduced to bodily movements and fluids...and my pride didn't' want to go there. I woke up this morning knowing that anybody would have to deal with these things, and I HAVE kicked cancer's ass, so I a little ugliness wouldn't hurt me at all.

When I left the hospital I had all kinds of nice accessories and bling. I still had my pretty bracelet that they gave me Monday before surgery and all kinds of tape marks on my right arm since my left arm is off limits to pricks and pokes forever. I had a Foley catheter to drain urine from my beaten up bladder and a neat drum looking thing used to suck fluid from the mastectomy sight. My fancy white thigh high compression hose and an ACE bandage wrapped around my chest giving me cleavage to what isn't there finished up the sexy assembly. These have been things I haven't been able to change since I got home. I know, yuck. I DID demand to go home in a pretty pair of PJ's that I bought a month ago that have some lace and cuteness to them. It is so hard to feel cute at all...and I'm no girly-girl...but I AM a girl.

Anyway, since I got home, I've mainly sat in the recliner since there is no other place I could lay down or lean over without pain. I've had to rely on everybody in the house to bring me anything that I consume or want to do, and it is hard since I'm so used to taking care of everyone else. I've had pains that were so terrible that I couldn't make myself move, yet moving is that best thing to make the pains go away. I've taken two boxes of Gas-X to deflate my pregnant looking belly and get rid of the terrible gas pain. My Foley cath is also leaking and I'm going to hopefully get that fixed this morning in my follow up appointments. I hope it will get to go away.

Every day I get better, and today is great. I was smart and set alarms through the night to take my pain pills. I'm finally able to get up on my own with the help of my walker, and don't necessarily need the walker to get around, but appreciate that it gives me the courage to move around more. Today I start the first round of follow-up appointments, and I'm ready to get the rest of the tubes out of my body. I will also attempt a shower since I haven't bathed since before my first surgery. I'm pretty ripe...eew! On that hot note, I'm going to sign off.

Home, Sweet Home!!!

I finally passed the tests needed to come home, and I'm so happy to be here. I am VERY sore, especially after the ride home. In nine miles there are 9,000 bumps that made my insides feel like they were at war with each other. I took a belly pillow home from the hospital that I used to hold everything close to me while I whined and whimpered to make my mom feel guilty for every bump she even looked at. (I'm such a rotten daughter, aren't I?) I would have never thought I'd voluntarily use a walker, but I was darn happy that there was one for me to use at the house to use to get into the house. This surgery has totally kicked my butt.

I just want to add how happy I am that all of you and God have been here for me this past week. I have never felt fear or loneliness during this time.