You want to rethink that?

I'm in a bit of shock after reading this article that says a government task force is recommending that women in their 40s do not need mammograms and that self-exams do no good.

... the government panel of doctors and scientists concluded that getting screened for breast cancer so early and so often leads to too many false alarms and unneeded biopsies without substantially improving women's odds of survival.

Bullshit.

I was 36 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was not found with a mammogram, but had I known that it was recommended to have a baseline mammogram between the ages of 35 and 40, maybe my cancer would have been found earlier. Maybe all I would have needed was a lumpectomy and radiation and not chemo. Maybe I wouldn't have had to deal with bone pain, nausea, hair loss and the fatigue that lasted nearly three years.

And self-exams do no good? I found my lump on my own. True, it was by accident, but I felt the thing. Had I been doing regular self-exams, I probably would have felt it even earlier. And that's why I tell every woman I know, especially those under 40, to do their exams.

This statement really pisses me off:

The task force advice is based on its conclusion that screening 1,300 women in their 50s to save one life is worth it, but that screening 1,900 women in their 40s to save a life is not, Brawley wrote.

Since when is one life, no matter the age, not worth saving?

Starting at age 40 would prevent one additional death but also lead to 470 false alarms for every 1,000 women screened.

So what? Does the risk of a false alarm outweigh the possibility of saving a life? Speaking from first-hand experience: Hell, no. Or, as Dr. Lillie Shockney said:

no doctor can predict ahead of time whether a breast cancer you might get at some future time will spread to other organs and take your life. If a woman is alerted by a mammogram that she has a small (4 millimeters across), invasive tumor that seems to have favorable prognostic factors, then she can probably be cautiously optimistic.

But if that woman never gets a mammogram and instead finds the lump herself later on--after it has ballooned to 2 centimeters (10 times its earlier size)--then we would have no way of knowing whether she is going to survive her diagnosis and treatment. All bets are off.

By the way, 2 centimeters was the size of my lump when I had my first sonogram. And by the way again, younger women tend to get more aggressive cancers. So for me, waiting until 40 ... well would I have even made it?

And when you consider that only a little over two months ago, in his address to Congress, President Obama said this:

"... insurance companies will be required to cover, with no extra charge, routine checkups and preventive care, like mammograms and colonoscopies - because there's no reason we shouldn't be catching diseases like breast cancer and colon cancer before they get worse. That makes sense, it saves money, and it saves lives."

then the task force's recommendations are ill-advised. Preventive medicine is the best medicine, and our country's medical providers — and our government — should be doing more to encourage it. Getting people to get preventive screenings, eat better and exercise will go much further to reducing the nation's overall medical costs.

After ecstasy, the laundry

That comes from a Zen saying I found long ago, and it's a reminder of life's ups and downs. And it kinda fits how the weekend went.

This is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and locally there is a Day of Caring event each year. It's a brunch with a speaker and then a fashion show, with breast cancer survivors as models. There were 14 models this year, and it was the second for me.

Things actually got underway Friday night with the models' get-acquainted party. It was held at a local salon, and one of the owners is a mammogram tech with the local hospital. She donated the use of the salon, the services of her employees, some of the food and a T-shirt for each of us. That was pretty awesome. We had a great dinner made by the daughter of one of the models and had some fun getting to know one another -- including the first-ever male breast cancer survivor model!

Then, when the night was wrapping up, we got our gifts -- three more bags full of stuff!

The loot:

The big, pink sheep was not one of the things I got, but I did win it at Day of Caring three years ago. She's been named Hope and is the mascot of my support group.

A couple closer looks:




The T-shirt:


A hand-knitted scarf:


Everyone was pretty amazed at the amount of stuff we got.

The next day was just a lot of fun, and it was also very moving. The speaker was another local male breast cancer survivor, and it was interesting to hear a different perspective of dealing with the disease, especially since the guy, I was told, was very shy, so it took a lot of courage for him to speak in front of a crowd. Several times, he had to stop and keep his emotions under control to be able to keep going, and it had all us models in tears.

But he joined us in modeling, which was pretty cool, and both he and the other male model gave their roses to their wives after they got out on the runway, which was cool. Everybody, even the first-year models who were nervous, had a great time.

I modeled for the local Harley-Davidson dealer.





I spent the rest of Saturday afternoon scrubbing the black, sticky, smelly stuff from the bottom of the dishwasher, then had dinner with a friend at a Mexican place. Then just took it easy the rest of the night. So all in all, a pretty good day.

Then came today. This afternoon, I started in on cleaning the kitchen, loading up the de-yuckified dishwasher and washing some things by hand. And afterwards, I discovered all the water in the kitchen cabinet under the sink. At first, I was worried the dishwasher had leaked into the cabinet, but there would have been much more water. Then I discovered it was the supply line to the faucet that was leaking. Then, a bit later I discovered there's also a leak in the drain or the garbage disposal. And there might be a pipe connection or two that are also leaking. So basically, the sink is unusable. Hopefully, I can get someone in this week to take a look. In the meantime, I'll have to figure out how to eat without using the kitchen sink.

Sigh. After ecstasy ...

Doing good

Forgot about updating, for those of you not following the tweets. Both checkups went well. Some of the numbers on my bloodwork were a bit lower than normal; the doc said those numbers usually indicate an allergy and viruses. She's going to have me go back in about a month for another blood test just to make sure. I have felt like I've been fighting something lately, waking up with a dry, scratchy throat, so maybe that's it.

Otherwise things are a-OK. And both the surgeon and oncologist said I don't need to go get another MRI. That was good news, because I don't want to go through that mess again.

Busterversary

Today marked one year since Buster came home. We had a pretty good day. In the morning I finished up some yardwork that I started last night but had to quit since it's getting dark earlier. I wanted to get that out of the way, because a friend of mine -- the one whose wedding I went to a couple weeks ago -- was in town and came over for awhile, and plus I wanted the afternoon to do something special with Buster.

So Karen and I had a good time visiting and catching up, and Buster was a pretty good boy. He got a bit overexcited a few times and nipped at her -- playfully, but I still don't like when he does that. But overall he behaved. Then in the afternoon, I took Buster into town and we spent about an hour walking through the big park. I think he had fun, even though it was pretty cool and kind of rainy. He's sure tired out tonight, so we're just hanging out at home with the TV, some popcorn and brownies.

Some busy weekends are coming up, though. Next Saturday is the Day of Caring, a brunch and fashion show for breast cancer awareness. All the models are breast cancer survivors. And yes, this year I'll be modeling. I was a bit nervous because the store they picked for me is a western wear store, and I am NOT into the cowgirl thing. But I did find some cool stuff, and I hope to have some pix to post here afterwards.

The weekend after that is a copy editing conference in Wichita -- yes, back to Wichita. I've been there more in the last year than I have in my whole life. But I'm looking forward to it. It'll be nice to be around people who actually think copy editing is still important to newspapers.

Dogless

That's what I am until Sunday evening. I'm heading to Wichita tomorrow morning with a co-worker for a friend's wedding, and we're staying overnight Saturday, so Buster is staying in a "cabin" at his vet's for the weekend. I can go pick him up Sunday evening, so depending on what time we get back, Sunday will be a quiet day.

Tonight, I'll have something to distract me for awhile. I'm heading into town to see Vanessa Peters and one of her bandmates perform at the local brewpub. I've been bored with commercial radio, and got tired of hearing the same old stuff on my iPod, so I started searching for different music. I checked out the Web sites of the local venues one day, and found she was coming here, listened to stuff on her MySpace page, and kinda got hooked. And then I thought it might be fun to write about some of the music going on around here and pitched the idea to my boss. He was less than enthusiastic about it, but I went ahead and did an article on Peters anyway for our arts page this week. I'd like to do more, especially on the local acts. We'll see how it works out time-wise with all the other crap that gets heaped on me at work now. I'm kind of hoping to maybe branch out into some freelance writing with some of this, too.

On my way to the show, I need to drop off Hope, my support group's giant pink Serta sheep mascot, at the home of one of the members so she can ride on the Homecoming parade float tomorrow. I'm kind of sorry I'll be missing that, because it's always a great experience. I've done it twice now, and each time, got a little choked up when people stand and applaud us as we go by. All we did was survive. It was all the scientists, doctors, nurses and caretakers who made that possible. They're really the ones who deserve the applause. So if you're involved at all in cancer research, oncologoy or are helping a loved one through treatment, know that applause is really for YOU.

More on Christina Applegate

Christina Applegate, who was diagnosed recently with breast cancer after an MRI, talked more about her diagnosis and treatment yesterday on Good Morning America (you can watch the whole interview with another BC survivor, Robin Roberts here)

She opted to have both breasts removed -- no doubt a difficult decision, especially considering Hollywood's fixation on how people look -- after testing positive for the BRCA1 gene. Fortunately, I tested negative for mutation on both the BRCA1 and BRCA 2 genes, but when my oncologist first discussed the testing with me, she said if I tested positive, she would likely recommend removal of the breasts as well as my uterus and ovaries as prevention against any more cancer. So, a tough decision, but what do you do when it's your life you're talking about?

I really applaud her desire to help other women pay for MRIs and the genetic testing. The MRI is recommended for women at high risk, but not all insurance companies cover it yet. And the gene testing costs about $3,000. A co-worker of mine who's in her 20 or 30s has a big family history of BC, and while the insurance company will pay for her annual mammograms, they won't pay for the gene test unless she or one of her sisters is diagnosed with cancer. That's just nuts.

And big applause to Applegate for going on TV and talking about her cancer, only three weeks after her surgery. At times, she appeared pretty emotional, and I'm sure she's still trying to sort things out in her own head. Having to do that on national TV couldn't have made it any easier. She's a good representative for what many women with breast cancer have had to face.

Hmmm, what's been happening?

Gee not much lately. Except ... I GOT MY PORT OUT!

It was last Tuesday. I guess I've been too psyched about it to write about it here, but the port-a-cath is now gone, just shy of three years to the day I got it put in. It's a pretty awesome feeling. I think it's the first time I looked forward to going to the hospital.

It was done with just a local anaesthetic in the afternoon, but you know, my boss didn't need to know that, so I took the whole day off! And that was after having Monday off for working Saturday, so I had a bit of a mini-vacation.

Anyway, there is a bit of a scar, but that will fade with time, just like the first one did. It hurt for only a day or so, and I feel a pull once in a while, but it's getting better. It just feels great to have it gone. It is, as one of my support group members said last night about getting hers out, like a graduation. I graduated from cancer!

On the bitter side of things, though, the second job is gone, thanks to the Legislature not providing the money for social services that everyone was counting on. The hotline has been automated, and the three of us working it got laid off. There's been some other people who got laid off too, from what I understand, and they've had to make a lot of other budget cuts. It's pretty sad, really, because the organization does a lot of good for people who need some help.

Anyway, that's the big news. Later.

Christina Applegate

She's been diagnosed with breast cancer. She's 36, the same age I was when I was diagnosed. Her mother is a two-time BC survivor, so it seems Applegate's been taking the advised precautions of mammograms and sonograms for early detection. And that says a lot — doesn't matter if you've got a family history or not, women should be doing whatever they can. I didn't, and it really scares me to think what might have happened if I hadn't accidentally felt that lump when I did.

So, no matter your age, do a self-exam monthly. If you're between 35 and 40, get a mammogram — this can be used as a baseline to compare your future mammograms to, which you should have every year once you're 40. If you're at high risk, talk to your doctor about also getting sonograms or an MRI, too.

I had it pretty "easy" with my treatment, in part because it was found fairly early. But I've seen what this disease can do, and it doesn't care how old you are, if you have children, if you're married or not, or what you've accomplished — or could yet do — with your life. Since I joined my support group, we've lost 4 members to cancer, and another is fighting for her life. So don't screw around with your chances.

Three years and counting

Today was another in my six-month checkups with my oncologist. And everything is pretty good. The X-ray and mammo are good, and my blood test was "perfect," she said. I did discuss with her the fact I seem to have had an upset stomach more often than usual for the past month or so, and she decided I should have one more exam -- a colonoscopy. Yeah, fun times ahead! Oh, I did get a rectal exam while there too. That was OK. Well, the results were OK, the procedure wasn't something to look forward to.

When I got back to work, I told my co-workers who were there everything was good, but a couple of them were out for the afternoon, so we still need to do our celebratory ice cream run. I see my surgeon tomorrow, but that should go well, too, so maybe we'll do it afterwards.

I checked on my blog at work, because I knew it was close to when I first found out I had cancer. I was thinking it was the 18th. But it's not. It was today. Three years ago this afternoon, I got my biopsy, and Dr. K said she could tell with near-certainty that it was cancer. It hit me hard, reading that blog entry again. I had to step outside for a bit, in fact. Three years. And I'm doing fine.

All right!

Catch up

So, where to begin? A lot has really been happening.

• Mom and I will be going to Wichita in July for "Antiques Roadshow"! She got tickets and we can each take two items. She's taking a painting she inherited and some jewelry, and I'm taking a sketchbook of an African safari and ... something else. More on this as it draws nearer.
• Buster doesn't seem to like to swim. I had to haul him out of the creek Sunday after he jumped in after some people going by in canoes. He chased them downstream a ways, into the trees on the neighbor's property. He found a good spot to dive in -- and I think he didn't expect it to be as deep as it was -- but then he couldn't find a spot to climb back up out of the creek. So I had to make my way through the trees to where he was and pull him out. It was hard not to laugh at him, even though he was obviously a bit scared of the predicament he'd gotten himself into. Still, he did go in the creek today (in the shallow part) after our walk.
• Piano music does something odd to Buster. Tonight, we had been watching "Antiques Roadshow" on the local PBS station, and afterwards, the station showed a calendar of local events, with some piano music playing underneath. Buster pricked up his ears and started trotting around the house, from the back door to the front door, to my bedroom window, like he was looking for someone. He calmed down after the music stopped.
• Buster was a big help getting through Sunday. It was on Mother's Day last year that Nipper died. I sat under the pecan tree in the backyard, where Nipper and I spent his last afternoon enjoying the warm day and the breeze, with the windsock Mom had put there blowing around us, it's streamers falling down around Nipper's face and back. On Friday evening, I was at that spot planting some flowers there, when a breeze picked up and blew the streamers around my shoulders. Without even thinking, I said, "I miss you, too, Nipper." It really felt like my ol' pup was sending me a hug. Sunday was much the same as it was that Sunday last year, and as I sat there, Buster came and sat beside me. The wind turned and blew the streamers toward Buster, and they settled on his head and shoulders. And that was almost like Nipper saying "He's a good dog, too. He'll watch over you." I'm sure some people will think I'm reading too much into nothing, but that's what it felt like. And I really think love can transcend boundaries -- even the love from a dog.
• I'm doing well health-wise, and so is my family. My support group is another situation, however. One member has had a reoccurance and will begin chemo next week, after having had a mastectomy and surgery to remove a kidney, where a tumor was found. Her prospects, are good, and she's in good spirits. However another member told us at our meeting last week that the doctors told her she has six months to a year to live. She has battling this for almost three years straight. It seemed like she was on good ground and then they found new tumors -- first in her lungs, which went away with chemo, and this latest bout with tumors in her brain. The chemo seemed to be effective a couple months ago, though, as she reported they were shrinking. And then this news. It's kind of hard to take, because she has been so active all throughout these last few years, even with the treatment. She has a teenage son she's raising herself, and she's done a lot for the deaf community, both locally and at the state level. It just ain't right.

The MRI

So the MRI biopsy turned out great. The process was not that much fun. And since I started this blog in part to maybe give an idea of what cancer and its treatment are like, I thought I'd give it a description. Hope it helps someone.

The facility I went to, Cypress Medical Center, was great. The people were really nice and put me at ease. They weren't great at placing the IV, however. Three days later, and both my forearms are still bruised from where they poked me three or four times.

I went to the same room and MRI machine I'd been in the week before. I had to lie face down on the bench, and there were, for lack of a better description, cupholders. I had to put my arms up over my head. Then they made sure I was positioned correctly and squeezed the cup closed a bit (not as bad as a mammogram, though). Then they slid me into the machine. They ran an MRI on the breast again, and they'd told me if they didn't see anything this time, they wouldn't do the biopsy. That actually gave me a lot of hope. If there was something, they said, the computer would give them coordinates for the needle. The MRI took just a few minutes, and then the techs came back in the room and prepared me for the biopsy. That was a letdown, because obviously that meant they had seen something again.

I got a local anesthetic, so I didn't really feel anything. I mean, I could feel something, but it wasn't painful. Just kind of like being prodded. They inserted the needle, then it was back in the MRI so they could check the position of the needle. That took just a couple minutes. Then they came back in and went to work. There was just some whirring noise -- the needle getting tissue samples -- and that was it. This whole time, I was laying there with my arms streched above my head. It was making me stiff, so I brought my arms down and started to get up, but they stopped me -- I was still "pinned down" with the needle! So I had to wait a bit longer. As I finally did get up, I saw some blood in the "cupholder" and that kind of shook me. Not feeling or seeing anything, it was hard picture what was actually going on (even though deep down I did know). I guess it was just hat visual cue that reminded me what was going on.

Before I could leave, they had to patch me up. I had to lie on my back this time, and they cleaned the blood off me and then put a little "glue" to close the hole, then put one of those plastic "second skin" bandages on. I could shower the next day, they said, but no baths, and after taking the bandage off, I wasn't to scrub at the site for 10 days. When I did take the bandage off, I took a look, and was a little shocked. There's quite a hole there! Maybe it's mostly scab and the glue, but it looks almost a quarter-inch wide. So obviously, I'm not looking at it too much.

All in all, it wasn't horrible for me. But one woman in my support group last night said she wouldn't do an MRI again unless it was absolutely necessary -- with her arthritis, being in the MRI with her arms over her head was too painful. And I could certainly see how that could be. I'm not in too bad a shape, and the 15 or 20 minutes I was in there, it kind of hurt by the time I was done. I'll probably do it again, as the doctors recommend, but I don't know if I'd drive three hours for it again, unless the biopsy were necessary.

Everything's good

That's the news from the doc! After getting more and more anxious throughout the morning at work, I called my surgeon's office after the paper went to press, partly to see if the news was in, but mostly to make sure they had my cell phone number. Michelle, the office manager, took my number and said they hadn't gotten the report yet, so she would call and see if it was ready. About five minutes later, as I was talking to some friends about how anxious I was, my phone rang. It was Michelle -- Dr. K was in surgery for most of the day, but she was able to tell me the biopsy showed no cancer! Whoo-hoo!

I called my parents right away, then e-mailed my brother (I don't have his work number, and he usually just uses his cell phone for trips), and e-mailed a bunch of friends and ran around the building telling co-workers. More than a few tears were shed. My friend at work, Kim, and I went to lunch, and a bunch of us are going out for ice cream tomorrow. Hey, a girl's gotta celebrate!

My surgeon called later in the day (and she sounded a bit choked up, too). It's normal tissue. For some reason, and I guess there's not really anything to explain it, that particular area showed up as abnormal. But it's not, and that's great news. It's been kind of a stressful week, and I'm glad it's over!

Spoke too soon

So all my bitching about having to go to Wichita? I take that back. And I'll be going back on Monday.

Wednesday morning, almost first thing at work, I got a call from my surgeon here. "You don't want to hear from me," she said. "They found something." Gotta love how direct she is. (Really, she is the best). The MRI shows something, about 4 cm, in the right breast -- the opposite side of where I had my cancer. It took a minute or so for it sink in. And by the time I got off the phone with her, I was shaking and tearing up. I headed for the bathroom, pausing to ask a co-worker to come with me, and I told her what the doc had said. Poor Kim. She's lost some good friends and family to cancer, so I'm sure it was hard for her to hear what I said, but I'm glad she was there for me (and I told her so). She took me out to lunch, and then she even drove me to see my surgeon in the afternoon. It's hard to find friends like that.

I did go see the surgeon Wednesday afternoon, and she did a sonogram. But she couldn't find anything but a plain old cyst. That's a good sign, but I'll still be going back to Wichita, where they will do an MRI-guided biopsy. Dad will be going with me, so that'll be good. And the appointment is in the afternoon, so we don't have leave before dawn.

I'm doing all right. Some good words from friends, co-workers and family have done a lot of good. And playing with Buster takes my mind off things. I have a good feeling about this, really. I'll deal with whatever comes my way, but of course, I'm hoping for the best.

A long day's drive ... and for what?

That's what I'm wondering after spending a good chunk of the day on the road today.

There is a fairly recent recommendaton that women at high risk for breast cancer (and obviously, if you've had it, you're at high risk) should get a breast MRI each year in addition to a mammogram. Both my oncologist and surgeon encouraged me to do so, we got that arranged. There are three places I could have gone -- Denver, which is about an 8 hour drive; Salina, about 90 minutes; or Wichita, about 3 hours. My doctors suggested either Denver or Wichita, because the recommendation says the facility should be able to do a biopsy in case something is found (and the MRI machine here isn't that good, my oncologist said). That left me with the impression that the MRI would be examined once it's done, and if there was something questionable, you'd get further examination and maybe a biopsy while there.

But when we were making the appointment, my surgeon's office manager mentioned that they "wouldn't be able to do it the same day." I thought that was kind of strange, but they already had all my info, so I didn't say anything. So this morning, I got up way early, left before dawn and was in Wichita in plenty of time. The MRI itself took a little over half an hour, and I was in the facility for maybe an hour and a half total. As I was getting dressed to leave, one of the techs said I would get the results "in a day or two" from my doctor.

So this just has me wondering if it's really worth it to drive six hours for maybe an hour and a half of my time, when it's a great big IF wether or not there will be anything to be concerned about. Why not just drive to the facility that's 90 minutes away -- even if they can't do the biopsy -- when I'd just have to make another appointment and another trip IF the Wichita facility found something? If my doctors had found something and the biopsy would be a sure thing and could be done the same day -- and the whole procedure couldn't be done at or closer to home -- then I wouldn't have a problem with making that trip. But just for an annual, routine procedure? Yeah, that's a problem. It takes me a day away from work, and driving that much sucks my energy -- not to mention gas (and at over $3 a gallon, that's a BIG dea).

I'll bring this up at my next support group meeting. I know a couple of others have had it done also, so I'll see what they think. And next year, I'll mention I'd prefer to go closer to home. Or maybe suggest the local hospital work on getting a new MRI.

Sick sick sick

I'm tired of it. Being sick, that is. A week ago, I came down with a cold that had some kind of vendetta. Sore throat, stuffy and painful sinuses, runny nose, bad cough ... blech. I slept most of that day until I had to go to work at the hotline. Didn't go to either job Monday, and suffered through Wednesday, when I worked both jobs. I was supposed to work Thursday and Friday nights, too, but fortunately we have a new hotline assistant, and she wanted to start ASAP, so the boss asked if I wouldn't mind letting her have those nights. I was too glad to have that opportunity! I don't think I'd be in near as good as a shape if I had worked those three nights in a row -- and I'm still not in too great a shape!

I am feeling much better though, and have managed to catch up on the housework I hadn't been able to get to. You can actually see the countertops in the kitchen now, and I have clean clothes! I still have to catch up on about three rooms' worth of cleaning, but I don't work too many weeknights this week, so I think I'll be able to manage.

I did get some bad news about one of my support group members last week. She went into the hospital after some vomiting and bad headaches. They found two small tumors in her brain, for which she's geting radiation now. Someone who went to visit her said she is in great spirits, though, and looking forward to getting on with life, so that's good news. The hospital here lets you send e-mails to patients through their Web site (volunteers print them out, paste them into a card and deliver them to the person), so I sent her message since I probably shouldn't go in to a place with sick people when I have a bad cold. I'm hoping she does well, because she was another who was diagnosed around the same time I was. This will be her third time around with treatment. Go, Gina! You can beat it again!

A dance ends

Not much more than 10 minutes after I posted last night, a 5-year-old girl crawled into the bed her mother was in and kissed her goodnight. And her mother took her last breath.

Lanita always called her e-mails "The Journey of the Dancing Queen," and signed off with a quote like "Work like you don't need money, Love like you've never been hurt, And dance like no one's watching" or"Dance like there is no tomorrow! Each new dawn is a reminder that every day is a new beginning. Live it to the fullest." She was a bit hesitant at first to write about her fight, I remember an early note saying, because she didn't think she was a good writer. And she didn't have perfect grammar and punctuation, but that's not what matters when what you say comes from your heart and soul. Her e-mails were always funny and insightful, and, more recently, heart-wrenching.

Her husband sent out an e-mail briefly describing her last couple of days -- that she'd told them she was being fitted for a halo and had wings and what she was seeing -- and despite his saying that Lanita's writing skills didn't "rub off on him," it was beautiful. I'm sure there will be some very hard days ahead for him and the two girls.

Hopefully, I can go to the funeral. I believe it's going to be Monday, but I'm not sure what time. If it's the morning, I might not be able to, since we're pretty shorthanded at work anymore. But I'll do what I can. The support group will be there, of course, and we've been asked to help at the graveside service, with a balloon launch. There will be 300 pink balloons launched, for breast cancer, of course, and 41 white ones, one for each year of her life.

It sounds like it will be nice, but I hope this is our last funeral for some time.

Keep dancing.

A night off

First two nights on the new job down ... It went well, reallly. There weren't a lot of calls either night, and it didn't take me too long to get the hang of how to fill out the "paperwork" on the computer. Really the important thing is to get the request from the house supervisors or clients to the right people quickly, and that's easy enough. I got a lot of reading done actually, so I'm probably going to have to be making lots of trips to the library. No problem there, and maybe I won't have any overdue books as fast as I'll probalby be reading them!

I haven't been tired out from the extra hours, either. Fell asleep pretty quick and slept good each night. Tonight I even got some of the mowing done. Hopefully, there won't be too much more of that, as it has cooled off quite a bit this week.

It's not all great news, though. One of my support group members, who entered hospice care recently, went into the hospital this week. Only family is allowed to visit, and I understand they have her on a lot of pain meds. It probably won't be much longer. This one will be hard to take because we were diagnosed and joined the group around the same time. She's only a couple years older than me, too. And she was certainly a fighter. It just proved too much for her, though.

Last summer, she went to the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston for six weeks of treatment. She kept us updated with frequent e-mails that were full of hope and humor. In one of them she mentioned how at home, before she left, someone she knew commented that she was a "strong woman" facing what she was going through. But she preferred to be thought of as a woman of strength, as in this poem:

A strong woman works out everyday to keep her body in shape…
But a woman of strength builds relationships to keep her soul in shape

A strong woman isn't afraid of anything…
But a woman of strength shows courage in the midst of fear.

A strong woman won't let anyone get the better of her…
But a woman of strength gives the best of herself to everyone.

A strong woman makes mistakes and avoids the same in the future…
A woman of strength realises life's mistakes can also be unexpected blessings, and capitalises on them

A strong woman wears a look of confidence on her face…
But a woman of strength wears grace.

A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey…
But a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong.

I think that says it all.

A bad week

It's not been a good time lately for my breast cancer support group. There is one funeral this week (unexpected) and another on the way.

Yesterday we received word that one member, Elsie, died. She had taken ill last week and was in the hospital, started to feel better over the weekend, but then took a turn for the worse. They did exploratory surgery, but she didn't survive the operation. That's about all the details I know of what happened. She was 78. Her sister is a member of our group as well. They were diagnosed within two weeks of each other a couple years ago, if I remember correctly. They both always made the meetings fun. She'll be missed. Her funeral is tomorrow, and I know some of the group will be going. I might try to go, but we might be busy at work, too. There's visitation during my lunch hour, so I might at least go to that.

Last week, we received bad news as well. Another of our members has decided to enter Hospice care. She's been fighting for about two years, originally diagnosed about the same time I was. At first, after her chemo and surgery, things seemed to be going well, but then tumors started appearing in her skin. She went to the MD Anderson cancer center in Texas for about six weeks last summer, tried some experimental drug, new drugs, etc. She's been in a lot of pain, I know, but remained pretty upbeat through a lot of it -- at least in her e-mails and when she was able to come to our meetings. But a few months ago, she wrote an e-mail that wasn't as upbeat, and talked about how her two girls (12 and 5) were starting to come to the realization she might not be around to see them grow up. It wasn't a good sign. And then came last week's news. Her tumors had spread to other organs and were just progressing faster than treatment could handle. She just turned 40. She's fought this pretty hard, and I thought if anyone could beat some long odds, she would be one who could. It just doesn't seem fair.

I work with her sister-in-law. They're pretty close, and I kind of put off talking to her after the news. But Monday morning, I had to ask her about something work-related, so of course it came up. It was difficult for both of us, and we only made it a few minutes before we had to quit -- after all, the day was just beginning. I'm sure we'll talk about it again. Maybe later in the day, though.

Lost and Found

Finished reading another book -- Alison Winn Scotch's "The Department of Lost and Found." It's a novel about breast cancer. Well, it's a novel about a woman dealing with the affects of breast cancer. I was a little apprehensive about reading this, but it was a good read.

It's the story of Natalie Miller, a 30-year-old senior aide for an up-and-coming New York woman senator (sound familiar? Nah!) when she learns she has breast cancer ... the same day her boyfriend tells her he's seeing someone else and dumps her. While going through chemo and surgery she's got political drama to deal with, being her best friend's maid of honor, and a lot more.

What I liked about the book is that it doesn't really dwell on her cancer. And the parts that do aren't melodramatic or unrealistic. The narrative actuallly takes place between her chemo treatments, so it focuses more on the after effects -- like trying to live your life around the side effects, and how all the downtime and staring at your mortality starts to change your outlook on life and your relationships. And that's what she does. She examines her motives in her work, her relationships with family and especially the men in her life. And she gets a dog (my favorite part of the story).

There were some moments that got me choked up, remembering some of my own feelings in similar circumstances, but really the book is quite hopeful. And there's actually lots to laugh at too. That's surpising, considering Scotch's inspiration for the book was the loss of a good friend to breast cancer. So if you're a survivor -- or know one -- don't be afraid to pick this one up.

Hi there

I know it's been awhile since I posted, and I even have some things to talk about.

This past week I had my last three-month checkup with my oncologist, with bloodwork and a chest X-ray a few days beforehand. All were OK! I will see her next in December. The six-month checkups will continue for three years, I think -- until I am five years out -- and then it will just be once a year until I reach 10 years out. I still have a mammogram coming up Tuesday and then a visit with my surgeon the week after that. My oncologist did recommend I get an MRI in conjunction with mammograms from now on, as new research recommends for women with a high risk of breast cancer. I plan to ask my surgeon about this, but I can probably guess what she will say, since she and my oncologist work pretty closely. I'll have to go to Wichita to get it done, because there are some requirements for that they can't meet here.

Anyway, not much more than that has really been going on. Today I kind of wasted much of the day playing a new game I found, Bowmaster, kind of a defend your castle/capture the flag type game. I got to level 20, and it's not real fast-paced game, so you can guess how much time I wasted. But I redeemed myself somewhat, when during a break from the game, I saw on a local Web site that the local Habitat for Humanity was having regular build days for the house they're building here for a family on Fridays and Saturdays. It's the group's first house, and they've had some trouble getting the volunteer work going. There was just a small crew there -- the husband/father of the family getting the house, a married couple and then an older guy. They were all pretty nice, and I got to pound a few nails, help put together a corner piece for the framing, and help put up a couple pieces of framing for the garage. It was kind of fun, and a good way to spend the afternoon. My wrist can really feel the effects of the pounding, though.

Tomorrow will probably be some mowing, and more reading. Yesterday, I finished up The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon. I liked it OK enough, but it took awhile to get into. I didn't know before reading it that it takes place in an alternate reality, so I spent the first couple of chapters wondering what the heck was going on. Then it took a few chapters to get my mind wrapped around that concept. But once I settled in, it was OK, if not maybe a bit too long.

Now I'm reading something a bit lighter, a mystery ba David Rosenfelt called Play Dead. I passed it over once or twice already at the library, because I wasn't sure how I'd handle a story involving dogs, but I'm enjoying it, really.

It's getting late, and I've already spent more than enough time on the computer today, so time to say goodnight.