I am finally feeling better. Wednesday evening, I came down with a cold. (thanks, co-worker who came to work Monday with a constant cough and sniffles). It probably wouldn't have been a big deal, but the surgery probably weakened my system enough it was just too much. I stayed home from work both Thursday and Friday and it's only been today that I feel anywhere near like myself again. Maybe I should have called the doc, just to make sure that's all it was and if she had any suggestions as to what to do, but it's a cold. Or maybe it was the flu, I don't know. Either way, by the time you know you've got it, all you can really do is ride it out, even with the medicine available today.
I guess I will have to watch out for that kind of thing from now on though. The chemo will affect my immune system, of course, so even if they OK me to go to work, should I be worried if a co-worker comes in sick? I'll have to put that on my list of questions for the oncologist Wednesday.
In other news, we have a rabbit's nest in one of the backyard flower beds. Nipper actually found it, unfortunately, and by the time I got him away from it, there was one dead bunny. I don't know if he actually killed it, but they're pretty delicate when they're newborn, so it wouldn't take much to fatally injure one. We fenced off the area, and we just don't let Nipper out by himself, which is kind of a pain, but he always wants to go over there as soon as we let him out. A couple squirts from the hose convinced him I was serious when I said "no!" The bunnies are probably about a week old, so there's ONLY about three more weeks of this! At least mama rabbit didn't abandon the nest.
Tomorrow, back to work. It wouldn't surprise me if I get chewed out for not planning ahead for some graphics that were supposed to be used this weekend. Because I bet there's some people who think I was faking being sick just to get a few more days off. Never mind that I needed a half-hour nap to just recover from getting up to go pee. You can tell I love where I work, huh?
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
God has a sense of humor
Tuesday, I sent out an e-mail about my cancer to some people I haven't had contact with in awhile. One of them was a former co-worker at the paper who lives in a nearby town and works for a different paper.
She called about 8:30 a.m. yesterday to let me know she was sorry this had happened and would be thinking of me. She asked if she could say a prayer for me. I'm not real religious, but I'm certainly not going to turn away any help from upstairs I can get it, so I said sure. She started saying the prayer over the phone, but shortly after her puppy, a beagle, started barking. If you aren't familiar with beagles, they just don't bark, they bay. So here' s my friend talking to God for me and in the background is this BOOOWWWWOOOOWW! OWWWWWOOOW BOOOOOW! BOWWW! I was trying hard not to laugh, and I think she might have been too. She finished the prayer and said she'd call me right back.
I think UPS or someone had come to her door, because when she called back it sounded like she was opening a package and she said she'd had to order a new keyboard and mouse because of pain she'd having in her arms. The dog was now silent.
I certainly appreciate her wanting to do that for me, but somehow I can't help but think the timing turned out to be a big practical joke orchestrated from somewhere above.
She called about 8:30 a.m. yesterday to let me know she was sorry this had happened and would be thinking of me. She asked if she could say a prayer for me. I'm not real religious, but I'm certainly not going to turn away any help from upstairs I can get it, so I said sure. She started saying the prayer over the phone, but shortly after her puppy, a beagle, started barking. If you aren't familiar with beagles, they just don't bark, they bay. So here' s my friend talking to God for me and in the background is this BOOOWWWWOOOOWW! OWWWWWOOOW BOOOOOW! BOWWW! I was trying hard not to laugh, and I think she might have been too. She finished the prayer and said she'd call me right back.
I think UPS or someone had come to her door, because when she called back it sounded like she was opening a package and she said she'd had to order a new keyboard and mouse because of pain she'd having in her arms. The dog was now silent.
I certainly appreciate her wanting to do that for me, but somehow I can't help but think the timing turned out to be a big practical joke orchestrated from somewhere above.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Under the knife
Tomorrow I have surgery to put the Port-a-Cath in my chest. This is the first surgery I've ever had. Well, OK, I had an ingrown toenail removed when I was like 12, but that was just a local and some scissors (yes, it was performed by a doctor).
I'm a bit nervous about it. What if something goes wrong with the anesthetic? What if she hits the wrong blood vessel? What if my lung collapses? I know I really shouldn't be worried. My surgeon is great. She's been straightforward and comforting at the same time, and a handful of people have told me she's a great surgeon, too. It's probably just because it's the first time I've undergone surgery that I have these fears.
I don't go in until noon. Can't eat after 4 a.m., so I might get up around 2 a.m. and have a big breakfast and drink lots of water. At least it's supposed to be cool tomorrow (in the 70s as compared to the 100+ degrees we've been having) and I'll get to enjoy it some.
Wednesday's the MRI. Maybe I can keep the earplugs and sleep with them so Dad's coughing, throat clearing and other biological noises don't keep me up at night. He's just been living alone for too long to be a good guest.
We had a heck of a rain awhile ago. One minute it was a nice shower, and then all of a sudden, we could barely see across the street! Maybe the creek will come up a bit. I wish I'd gotten around to getting a rain barrel or two put up at the downspouts. It'd be nice to save some of that water for the gardens when it gets hot again, and it will.
E-mailed some folks today about the cancer news. Got a response from a former boss saying a Carmen Miranda headdress would be nice if I lose my hair. Just because you said that, DW, I'm going to have to do it! If only for a picture.
I'm a bit nervous about it. What if something goes wrong with the anesthetic? What if she hits the wrong blood vessel? What if my lung collapses? I know I really shouldn't be worried. My surgeon is great. She's been straightforward and comforting at the same time, and a handful of people have told me she's a great surgeon, too. It's probably just because it's the first time I've undergone surgery that I have these fears.
I don't go in until noon. Can't eat after 4 a.m., so I might get up around 2 a.m. and have a big breakfast and drink lots of water. At least it's supposed to be cool tomorrow (in the 70s as compared to the 100+ degrees we've been having) and I'll get to enjoy it some.
Wednesday's the MRI. Maybe I can keep the earplugs and sleep with them so Dad's coughing, throat clearing and other biological noises don't keep me up at night. He's just been living alone for too long to be a good guest.
We had a heck of a rain awhile ago. One minute it was a nice shower, and then all of a sudden, we could barely see across the street! Maybe the creek will come up a bit. I wish I'd gotten around to getting a rain barrel or two put up at the downspouts. It'd be nice to save some of that water for the gardens when it gets hot again, and it will.
E-mailed some folks today about the cancer news. Got a response from a former boss saying a Carmen Miranda headdress would be nice if I lose my hair. Just because you said that, DW, I'm going to have to do it! If only for a picture.
Friday, July 22, 2005
It could be worse
That's what I keep telling myself.
The news isn't as good as I had hoped for, but it certainly could have been a lot worse.
The bad news: I do have an aggressive form of cancer, invasive ductal cancer. The CT scan Thursday did show a couple of areas in my upper back that the radiologist suggested be checked more thoroughly, so I'll have an MRI on Wednesday. Mr doctor seems confident that it hasn't spread, though.
The good news is that it is HER-2 positive, and can be treated with Herceptin, which has been shown to be very effective in reducing or even eliminating breast cancer.
At this point, the treatment looks like it will be chemo for three to six months, and the Herceptin for a full year. If there's anything left of the tumor after the chemo, I'll have a lumpectomy. I'll know more after I meet with the oncologist on Aug. 3. Tuesday, I'll have surgery to implant a Port-A-Cath in my chest, which will allow the drugs to be put in my system.
Both of my parents were there with me. Dad seems to be taking this fairly well, which I was worried about. Mom had a hard time today, though. I'm not sure she's really given herself time to take this all in -- her daughter having to deal with something like cancer before she does. She actually said today that she felt like it was her fault. I know it must be hard for a parent to deal with this. I can only imagine, and try to stay strong so that she does too.
But the doctor did say there's no way to know when this cancer even started. Even if I had been making regular trips to the doctor the last 10 years, it might not have been detected before I felt it -- I'm only 36 and probably wouldn't have been getting mammograms every year, if at all yet.
That's what scares me the most. What if I hadn't accidentally brushed my hand under my breast while getting dressed that day? I have never done regular self-exams and I hadn't seen a doctor since I was a kid. I guess I still had a bit of that invincibility mentality we seem to have as teenagers. But if I hadn't felt it that one day, where would I be in a year? Or six months?
Do yourself a favor: no matter how old you are, do a regular monthly self exam and see your doctor.
The news isn't as good as I had hoped for, but it certainly could have been a lot worse.
The bad news: I do have an aggressive form of cancer, invasive ductal cancer. The CT scan Thursday did show a couple of areas in my upper back that the radiologist suggested be checked more thoroughly, so I'll have an MRI on Wednesday. Mr doctor seems confident that it hasn't spread, though.
The good news is that it is HER-2 positive, and can be treated with Herceptin, which has been shown to be very effective in reducing or even eliminating breast cancer.
At this point, the treatment looks like it will be chemo for three to six months, and the Herceptin for a full year. If there's anything left of the tumor after the chemo, I'll have a lumpectomy. I'll know more after I meet with the oncologist on Aug. 3. Tuesday, I'll have surgery to implant a Port-A-Cath in my chest, which will allow the drugs to be put in my system.
Both of my parents were there with me. Dad seems to be taking this fairly well, which I was worried about. Mom had a hard time today, though. I'm not sure she's really given herself time to take this all in -- her daughter having to deal with something like cancer before she does. She actually said today that she felt like it was her fault. I know it must be hard for a parent to deal with this. I can only imagine, and try to stay strong so that she does too.
But the doctor did say there's no way to know when this cancer even started. Even if I had been making regular trips to the doctor the last 10 years, it might not have been detected before I felt it -- I'm only 36 and probably wouldn't have been getting mammograms every year, if at all yet.
That's what scares me the most. What if I hadn't accidentally brushed my hand under my breast while getting dressed that day? I have never done regular self-exams and I hadn't seen a doctor since I was a kid. I guess I still had a bit of that invincibility mentality we seem to have as teenagers. But if I hadn't felt it that one day, where would I be in a year? Or six months?
Do yourself a favor: no matter how old you are, do a regular monthly self exam and see your doctor.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
What a day
So today was the tests to see if the cancer has spread. It wasn't too awful.
It all started about 8 a.m. There was only one needle stick involved, when they gave me an IV. First I got an injection of some radioactive stuff for the bone scan. Then I had to gulp down another bottle of the Redi-cat (nasty stuff) for the CT scan. Fortunately, before I finished it all, one of the techs came to let me know they'd get me in early. He said I didn't have to drink it all if it was making me nauseous. "You had that look in your eye," he said. I bet they've seen that look a lot.
The CT scan and X-ray weren't so awful and I was out of there by 9:30 a.m. Good and bad: good, because I couldn't eat until after the scan and it was actually scheduled for 11 a.m. Bad because Mom had brought me to the hospital and after they called me in, she left to get her own blood test to check her cholesterol, get her oil changed and visit with a supervisor at work about a meeting she couldn't go to. Not having a cell phone, I couldn't get a hold of her to get out of the hospital for awhile. Although even if I did, I wouldn't have talked to her because she didn't even realize she'd left hers in the truck.
So I went to the cafeteria and got something to eat and a bottle of water, then just kind of hung out, reading a newspaper (uh, not the one I work for) and old magazines.
Then it was noon, and time for the bone scan. I had to lie on a very narrow bench (more like a bookshelf) while a couple of big cameras were positioned above and below me (the one above was almost touching my nose) and then it slowly scanned my whole body. That took about 15 minutes. Then the tech took additional images of the ribcage, which took about another 15 minutes. I could see the images on her computer from where I was lying, and it was kind of strange to see my own skeleton. Not that I could make heads or tails out of anything it might show about the cancer.
I'll found out about that tomorrow afternoon, when I visit with my doctor. My dad will be up for that visit. I don't know that he really is taking this all that well. He called the other night to let us know he was still planning on coming up Friday morning. He seemed a little surprised that I answered the phone and the conversation was pretty short. I hope that by meeting my doctor and hearing what she has to say will help put his mind at ease.
It all started about 8 a.m. There was only one needle stick involved, when they gave me an IV. First I got an injection of some radioactive stuff for the bone scan. Then I had to gulp down another bottle of the Redi-cat (nasty stuff) for the CT scan. Fortunately, before I finished it all, one of the techs came to let me know they'd get me in early. He said I didn't have to drink it all if it was making me nauseous. "You had that look in your eye," he said. I bet they've seen that look a lot.
The CT scan and X-ray weren't so awful and I was out of there by 9:30 a.m. Good and bad: good, because I couldn't eat until after the scan and it was actually scheduled for 11 a.m. Bad because Mom had brought me to the hospital and after they called me in, she left to get her own blood test to check her cholesterol, get her oil changed and visit with a supervisor at work about a meeting she couldn't go to. Not having a cell phone, I couldn't get a hold of her to get out of the hospital for awhile. Although even if I did, I wouldn't have talked to her because she didn't even realize she'd left hers in the truck.
So I went to the cafeteria and got something to eat and a bottle of water, then just kind of hung out, reading a newspaper (uh, not the one I work for) and old magazines.
Then it was noon, and time for the bone scan. I had to lie on a very narrow bench (more like a bookshelf) while a couple of big cameras were positioned above and below me (the one above was almost touching my nose) and then it slowly scanned my whole body. That took about 15 minutes. Then the tech took additional images of the ribcage, which took about another 15 minutes. I could see the images on her computer from where I was lying, and it was kind of strange to see my own skeleton. Not that I could make heads or tails out of anything it might show about the cancer.
I'll found out about that tomorrow afternoon, when I visit with my doctor. My dad will be up for that visit. I don't know that he really is taking this all that well. He called the other night to let us know he was still planning on coming up Friday morning. He seemed a little surprised that I answered the phone and the conversation was pretty short. I hope that by meeting my doctor and hearing what she has to say will help put his mind at ease.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Wish me luck
Tomorrow I go in for more tests -- blood work, bone scan and CT scan -- to see if the cancer has spread. I am nervous. I mean, I feel fine, but that might not mean it hasn't spread. I should just hope for the best and try to get some sleep.
That white crap you have to drink, though? Worst. Stuff. Ever.
And I get to drink another bottle of it in the morning.
That white crap you have to drink, though? Worst. Stuff. Ever.
And I get to drink another bottle of it in the morning.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Again
The pecan tree lost another branch last night. I was sitting at the computer desk at about 12:45 a.m., having just plugged in the laptop so I could finish a game without the battery going completely down when I heard a big crack.
My I turned on the big light in the backyard, and saw the branches on the ground. Oh, no! I thought, not again. I had let Nipper out just awhile before, but fortunately he apparently wasn't near the tree when it happened. When I stepped outside, he was just kind of staring at the tree!
It's not as big a branch as last time, but then again, the wind was hardly blowing. Maybe 15 mph. It must be the weight of the pecans, although two summers ago, we didn't lose any branches and there were many more pecans. I hope the tree isn't diseased or something.
So I guess this afternoon, I'll be trimming the tree. I'm going to go ahead and trim some of the lower branches too, so we don't lose anymore branches. I keep getting these weird thoughts that the tree is an omen for my cancer. The big branch came down just before my biopsy, and now this happens the week I get tests to make sure the cancer hasn't spread.
I'm sure my mind is just playing cruel tricks on me.
Right?
My I turned on the big light in the backyard, and saw the branches on the ground. Oh, no! I thought, not again. I had let Nipper out just awhile before, but fortunately he apparently wasn't near the tree when it happened. When I stepped outside, he was just kind of staring at the tree!
It's not as big a branch as last time, but then again, the wind was hardly blowing. Maybe 15 mph. It must be the weight of the pecans, although two summers ago, we didn't lose any branches and there were many more pecans. I hope the tree isn't diseased or something.
So I guess this afternoon, I'll be trimming the tree. I'm going to go ahead and trim some of the lower branches too, so we don't lose anymore branches. I keep getting these weird thoughts that the tree is an omen for my cancer. The big branch came down just before my biopsy, and now this happens the week I get tests to make sure the cancer hasn't spread.
I'm sure my mind is just playing cruel tricks on me.
Right?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Be careful what you ask for
I said about a year ago I needed some change in my life, but this isn't quite what I had in mind.
The word came today from Dr. K -- it is as she suspected. The lump in my left breast is cancerous, but the lymph node under the arm is OK. That's some good news at least. I will still have some tests a week from tomorrow to make sure it hasn't spread, but it was a relief to get that news this afternoon.
Ironically, I have felt better this week than I have in months. Lately, I have just been really negative toward a lot things. I hated my job, was mad I bought a house so that it would be more difficult to find a job elsewhere, hated that my mother living with me also kind of tied me down, hated that I can't lose weight, blah blah blah.
I'm sure part of that was concern about the lump. I found it on Mother's Day, and I kind of put off going to the doctor about it. I kept thinking it was nothing, it would go away, etc., knowing full well that was not the way to approach this. Then I kept thinking about Michelle, a high school classmate. She had been having a pain in her back and kept going to a chiropractor. When she finally went to a physician, she found out it was cancer, but by then it was really too late to do anything. She died just before our 10th class reunion. She was the sixth person from our class to die. I didn't want to be the next one people sadly shook their heads about.
And I'm not going to be. I'll be at the 25th reunion, the 50th, whatever. Well, I'll be around when they roll around, I don't know I'll bother going back for them.
The word came today from Dr. K -- it is as she suspected. The lump in my left breast is cancerous, but the lymph node under the arm is OK. That's some good news at least. I will still have some tests a week from tomorrow to make sure it hasn't spread, but it was a relief to get that news this afternoon.
Ironically, I have felt better this week than I have in months. Lately, I have just been really negative toward a lot things. I hated my job, was mad I bought a house so that it would be more difficult to find a job elsewhere, hated that my mother living with me also kind of tied me down, hated that I can't lose weight, blah blah blah.
I'm sure part of that was concern about the lump. I found it on Mother's Day, and I kind of put off going to the doctor about it. I kept thinking it was nothing, it would go away, etc., knowing full well that was not the way to approach this. Then I kept thinking about Michelle, a high school classmate. She had been having a pain in her back and kept going to a chiropractor. When she finally went to a physician, she found out it was cancer, but by then it was really too late to do anything. She died just before our 10th class reunion. She was the sixth person from our class to die. I didn't want to be the next one people sadly shook their heads about.
And I'm not going to be. I'll be at the 25th reunion, the 50th, whatever. Well, I'll be around when they roll around, I don't know I'll bother going back for them.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Difficult talk
We told my dad today about the cancer. Or rather Mom did. I just don't think I could have said the words to him. His parents both died of cancer and from things he's said over the years, I think it's what he fears for himself the most. I don't imagine he ever thought one of his kids would have to face it before he did.
He took it rather well, much better than I had feared he would. He was very supportive, and I'll probably need that in that in the coming months.
Anyway, I'm grateful to have that out of the way. Now we just need to tell my brother. We left a message on his answering machine, so he's either at work or sleeping (he works various shifts and we don't always know when he's working). So I guess that will come later tonight.
I am a little annoyed with one of my co-workers. She called another co-worker who's been at home recuperating from rotator cuff surgery and left a message on her machine: "I don't know if you heard about JunO, give me a call." Judy knew I was going to a former co-worker's wedding in another town yesterday, and from StP's message, she had no idea if I'd been in accident or what. So I'm not only upset at how StP told her, but also that she told Judy. Telling people should be my decision, and I wanted to tell Judy myself, in person, and StP ruined that. Tomorrow I'm going to have confront her, I guess.
He took it rather well, much better than I had feared he would. He was very supportive, and I'll probably need that in that in the coming months.
Anyway, I'm grateful to have that out of the way. Now we just need to tell my brother. We left a message on his answering machine, so he's either at work or sleeping (he works various shifts and we don't always know when he's working). So I guess that will come later tonight.
I am a little annoyed with one of my co-workers. She called another co-worker who's been at home recuperating from rotator cuff surgery and left a message on her machine: "I don't know if you heard about JunO, give me a call." Judy knew I was going to a former co-worker's wedding in another town yesterday, and from StP's message, she had no idea if I'd been in accident or what. So I'm not only upset at how StP told her, but also that she told Judy. Telling people should be my decision, and I wanted to tell Judy myself, in person, and StP ruined that. Tomorrow I'm going to have confront her, I guess.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Well crap
There's stronger words for it, but what's the use?
I had a biopsy on the lump in my breast today. The doc (who's been doing this for 15 years -- "boobs are us," her nurse said) is pretty sure it's cancer, based on the sonogram last week and just looking at the tissue sample she took today. The tests will be back Tuesday or Wednesday. I guess the bit of good news is that when she took tissue from the lymph node under that arm, she said that looks normal. So maybe it's just in that one area. If the biopsy comes back positive, then there'll be an MRI to make sure it hasn't spread, then chemo to shrink the thing.
Strangely enough, I am very calm. Maybe somewhere I knew what it would be, and was subconsciously preparing myself for it. Telling friends at work was tough. Telling my brother and especially my dad will be tough. Dad especially worried about cancer, since both his parents died of it -- his father from lung cancer and his mother from some abdominal cancer (I never knew specifically).
Tomorrow, I have a friend's wedding to go to. I haven't seen her much since she and her fiance moved to Connecticut, where she got a job. I'll have to tough it up. I don't want to bring such a downer on her special day. She said she'll be around town next week and will drop in at work probably Wednesday. I'll tell her then.
It was quite annoying when I told one co-worker today and she starts asking some probing questions and tries to give me advice -- that I should get the lumpectomy right away and then chemo, which is directly backwards of what the doc said today is the preferred method of treatment. Just because you're sort of the health beat reporter, StP, doesn't qualify you to give medical advice. Maybe I should report her for practicing medicine without a license. Ha.
And can I just say damn, those biopsies make your boob sore!
I had a biopsy on the lump in my breast today. The doc (who's been doing this for 15 years -- "boobs are us," her nurse said) is pretty sure it's cancer, based on the sonogram last week and just looking at the tissue sample she took today. The tests will be back Tuesday or Wednesday. I guess the bit of good news is that when she took tissue from the lymph node under that arm, she said that looks normal. So maybe it's just in that one area. If the biopsy comes back positive, then there'll be an MRI to make sure it hasn't spread, then chemo to shrink the thing.
Strangely enough, I am very calm. Maybe somewhere I knew what it would be, and was subconsciously preparing myself for it. Telling friends at work was tough. Telling my brother and especially my dad will be tough. Dad especially worried about cancer, since both his parents died of it -- his father from lung cancer and his mother from some abdominal cancer (I never knew specifically).
Tomorrow, I have a friend's wedding to go to. I haven't seen her much since she and her fiance moved to Connecticut, where she got a job. I'll have to tough it up. I don't want to bring such a downer on her special day. She said she'll be around town next week and will drop in at work probably Wednesday. I'll tell her then.
It was quite annoying when I told one co-worker today and she starts asking some probing questions and tries to give me advice -- that I should get the lumpectomy right away and then chemo, which is directly backwards of what the doc said today is the preferred method of treatment. Just because you're sort of the health beat reporter, StP, doesn't qualify you to give medical advice. Maybe I should report her for practicing medicine without a license. Ha.
And can I just say damn, those biopsies make your boob sore!
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