This post is not about my children...but it is about a child. A child whose mother has breast cancer. That child is me. We've only known about this for a few weeks. I have a wonderful group of friends who check on me often, asking if I'm doing okay with it all. And I am. Actually, it's been kind of easy. Because Mom has made it easy. She's positive, practical, and seems to be taking it all in stride. I guess that's what good moms do...make hard things easier. She has a strong faith and it shows in everything she does. And because she's strong, I can be too.The day before Thanksgiving, they took her left breast. My dad, my sisters and I joined a whole group of other people who loved her in the hospital. We teased her that she had a "network" like the cell phone commercial because there was a whole entourage following her as they wheeled her down the hall to the surgical unit. We waited together, talking, laughing, and secretly praying in our hearts that it was going to be as okay as we hoped it would. Finally, the doctor came out. She did so well he let her go home the same day...Happy Thanksgiving! I was able to stay with my mom for a few days. I did the things I could to help her...laundry, dishes, fixing her hair and standing in the bathroom with her as she examined her new scar. She didn't cry or complain. She said how nicely done it was. This is not the first time she's had to deal with an imperfect body. She has no hearing in one ear and wears a hearing aid in the other, wears glasses, and lives with one side of her face being immovable due to nerve damage. She jokes about falling apart piece by piece. The truth is...my mom is more than the sum of her parts. Her most important part - her soul- can never be surgically removed. She's strong, beautiful, and full of faith...loved by everyone who knows her. Especially this child...just another piece of her.
Posted by Fonda at 5:46 PM
Sunday, September 7, 2008
IN THE TRENCHES (Cont. from 'The Battle Plan')
It's one thing for the General to study the information and lay out a battle plan for war. It is quite another thing for the soldier to enter the trenches and start shooting back at the enemy.
The doctor had studied the enemy and found out where the it was located. Now we were entering the trenches together to eradicate this frightful monster. We chose to have this surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so that I could use the holiday to save myself some lost time at work.
I arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They got me dressed for surgery, and by 8:15 I was on my way over to radiology to get the radioactive dye shot into my breast to track the lymph system. [ This is called 'sentinel node biopsy'. The lymph system carries the dye to the first lymph node, and then the next, and so on. Later, during surgery, the surgeon uses a tracking device to follow it to the first, then second lymph node, and removes them. Right there, during surgery, the pathologist analyzes those, and if they are clear of cancer cells, there is no need to remove more. If there are cancer cells in any lymph node, they keep tracking to the next one, until they are clear, or until they decide the cells are more places than they can get to that day. They only removed three of my nodes and there was no cancer in any of them.] When I arrived at radiology, the nurse rolled me into a small room, gathered supplies, and said to me, "Okay, let me see if I can find a radiologist to inject this" and she promptly started looking in all the upper cabinets! I said, "Is that where you keep your radiologists? in the cabinets?" We had a good laugh, and she did find a radiologist; Dr. Strange! (Don't you find that a little strange?) He made four injections into the skin of my breast, which stung, and swelled like a hornet's sting. They asked me if I was doing okay, and I said "Yes, just let me make an ugly face, and I'll be alright". (Later, a good friend was telling me that she hadn't fared so well. She kept passing out.) After the injections were all in, they wheeled me back to the room where I started, and friends and family came in to see me. We visited for about an hour and a half till the nurses came to get me for surgery. I made most of them leave when it was time for the 'happy shot' (which makes the patient happy and not care what she says. For some reason, I had been made fun of for the things I said at a former surgery a few years back.) My 'network' prayed for me and left the room, and I was on my way to surgery. I barely remember saying good morning to the surgeon. At least, I think it was him. He had a mask on his face. I think he was planning to rob me. (And sure enough, when I woke up, that left breast was GONE!)
The nurse woke me up about 2:00 p.m. and asked about my pain level on a scale of 1 to 10. I said, "1 or 2", and she gave me morphine. (What might I have gotten if I'd said 8-10?) I woke up very well, and stayed till I was able to dribble just a little bit of water, and walk up and down the hall. They let me go home by 7:30. I had expected to stay in the hospital 24 hours, and I was only there 12. And I was thankful. After all, it was Thanksgiving Holidays, right?
Several people called to see how I was doing. (More of the 'network') My 3 daughters were in and around for the holidays, helping with the household chores. I was feeling well, despite the drains dangling from my chest. My good friend, Liz, a registered nurse, come by to assist me in removing the bandages. I was nervous about that. I guess I was expecting blood and bruises, or something. But when we removed the bandages, the wound was clean and the seam was straight. I remember thinking, "My home economics teacher would have been proud. HA!" Seriously, it was a very sobering moment. My daughter, Fonda was there and she wrote about it on her blog. I asked her permission to print it here, and she said yes. So the next entry is from Fonda, "Peace about Pieces". (to be continued)
The doctor had studied the enemy and found out where the it was located. Now we were entering the trenches together to eradicate this frightful monster. We chose to have this surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so that I could use the holiday to save myself some lost time at work.
I arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. They got me dressed for surgery, and by 8:15 I was on my way over to radiology to get the radioactive dye shot into my breast to track the lymph system. [ This is called 'sentinel node biopsy'. The lymph system carries the dye to the first lymph node, and then the next, and so on. Later, during surgery, the surgeon uses a tracking device to follow it to the first, then second lymph node, and removes them. Right there, during surgery, the pathologist analyzes those, and if they are clear of cancer cells, there is no need to remove more. If there are cancer cells in any lymph node, they keep tracking to the next one, until they are clear, or until they decide the cells are more places than they can get to that day. They only removed three of my nodes and there was no cancer in any of them.] When I arrived at radiology, the nurse rolled me into a small room, gathered supplies, and said to me, "Okay, let me see if I can find a radiologist to inject this" and she promptly started looking in all the upper cabinets! I said, "Is that where you keep your radiologists? in the cabinets?" We had a good laugh, and she did find a radiologist; Dr. Strange! (Don't you find that a little strange?) He made four injections into the skin of my breast, which stung, and swelled like a hornet's sting. They asked me if I was doing okay, and I said "Yes, just let me make an ugly face, and I'll be alright". (Later, a good friend was telling me that she hadn't fared so well. She kept passing out.) After the injections were all in, they wheeled me back to the room where I started, and friends and family came in to see me. We visited for about an hour and a half till the nurses came to get me for surgery. I made most of them leave when it was time for the 'happy shot' (which makes the patient happy and not care what she says. For some reason, I had been made fun of for the things I said at a former surgery a few years back.) My 'network' prayed for me and left the room, and I was on my way to surgery. I barely remember saying good morning to the surgeon. At least, I think it was him. He had a mask on his face. I think he was planning to rob me. (And sure enough, when I woke up, that left breast was GONE!)
The nurse woke me up about 2:00 p.m. and asked about my pain level on a scale of 1 to 10. I said, "1 or 2", and she gave me morphine. (What might I have gotten if I'd said 8-10?) I woke up very well, and stayed till I was able to dribble just a little bit of water, and walk up and down the hall. They let me go home by 7:30. I had expected to stay in the hospital 24 hours, and I was only there 12. And I was thankful. After all, it was Thanksgiving Holidays, right?
Several people called to see how I was doing. (More of the 'network') My 3 daughters were in and around for the holidays, helping with the household chores. I was feeling well, despite the drains dangling from my chest. My good friend, Liz, a registered nurse, come by to assist me in removing the bandages. I was nervous about that. I guess I was expecting blood and bruises, or something. But when we removed the bandages, the wound was clean and the seam was straight. I remember thinking, "My home economics teacher would have been proud. HA!" Seriously, it was a very sobering moment. My daughter, Fonda was there and she wrote about it on her blog. I asked her permission to print it here, and she said yes. So the next entry is from Fonda, "Peace about Pieces". (to be continued)
Saturday, September 6, 2008
THE BATTLE PLAN (Continued from 'The Network'
Whew! I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. After I had fallen down the stairs, I had to walk on a walker for a month and my knees still hurt. I got derailed with all that interruption of my life and got stuck in a dark hole of depression for a while. Maybe I'm back on track now and can finish my story.
The Bible tells us, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." (John 8:32) This is sooooo true! Once I knew the truth ('I have cancer', 'the insurance is paying', and 'the network has my back'), I was relieved. I had been stuck in a quandary for a year. Now, I know the truth and I'm free to fight back.
The surgeon said we didn't have to be in an extreme hurry (as in next week), but we should get this done within a month to six weeks. He wanted me to have time to consider my options thoroughly and be comfortable with the process, but to get it all taken care of before it takes me out. He said the tumor had probably been growing for years, and that one more month wouldn't make a significant difference.
After the exam, the doctor said in so many kind words, that he would recommend a full mastectomy, as the lump was large, the breast was small, and there wouldn't be much left anyway. This is what I was expecting. I was ready for it.
So, the hunt was on. The doctor ordered a volley of tests to see if cancer could be detected anywhere else in my body. We did two CT scans, Bone scan, Blood tests, and ex-rays. All the tests came back negative, which is really positive, if you know what I mean. There was no cancer found anywhere else, but the CT scan showed that I had big cysts on my ovaries. Therefore, the doctors were recommending a complete hysterectomy following the mastectomy.
Well! This was NEEWWS to me. At age 54, I was still having my periods as regular as clockwork and having no pain or problems with it, except I had named the monthly experience "Niagara Falls" for a reason. (In my mind, I had also linked the idea of still having my periods to longevity of life.) I told the gynecologist that I couldn't believe this! I had friends who were bleeding to death, and they couldn't get a hysterectomy. I told him I was bringing all my bleeding friends to him. He just sat there with an amused look on his face and listened till I finished talking. Then he asked me if I wanted any more babies. (Are you kidding? At age 54?!) Of course, I said no, and he said since I was finished with this equipment, let's remove it, mainly because the breast cancer was feeding on the estrogen from the ovaries. After mulling it over for a few days, I could see the good sense in it. In fact, it might save my life.
So, at this point, the plan sounded like this: Mastectomy within a month. After six weeks to recoup, a hysterectomy. After six more weeks to recoup again, 8 rounds of chemotherapy, followed by 30 radiation treatments, and 5 years of Arimidex, an estrogen blocker. (The idea is, if there is any cancer cell lurking around, looking for a place to take root, it will starve to death for lack of estrogen.) Wow! This physical tune-up was quickly turning into a major overhaul! I could see it was gonna be a loooong year. TO BE CONTINUED . . . .
The Bible tells us, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." (John 8:32) This is sooooo true! Once I knew the truth ('I have cancer', 'the insurance is paying', and 'the network has my back'), I was relieved. I had been stuck in a quandary for a year. Now, I know the truth and I'm free to fight back.
The surgeon said we didn't have to be in an extreme hurry (as in next week), but we should get this done within a month to six weeks. He wanted me to have time to consider my options thoroughly and be comfortable with the process, but to get it all taken care of before it takes me out. He said the tumor had probably been growing for years, and that one more month wouldn't make a significant difference.
After the exam, the doctor said in so many kind words, that he would recommend a full mastectomy, as the lump was large, the breast was small, and there wouldn't be much left anyway. This is what I was expecting. I was ready for it.
So, the hunt was on. The doctor ordered a volley of tests to see if cancer could be detected anywhere else in my body. We did two CT scans, Bone scan, Blood tests, and ex-rays. All the tests came back negative, which is really positive, if you know what I mean. There was no cancer found anywhere else, but the CT scan showed that I had big cysts on my ovaries. Therefore, the doctors were recommending a complete hysterectomy following the mastectomy.
Well! This was NEEWWS to me. At age 54, I was still having my periods as regular as clockwork and having no pain or problems with it, except I had named the monthly experience "Niagara Falls" for a reason. (In my mind, I had also linked the idea of still having my periods to longevity of life.) I told the gynecologist that I couldn't believe this! I had friends who were bleeding to death, and they couldn't get a hysterectomy. I told him I was bringing all my bleeding friends to him. He just sat there with an amused look on his face and listened till I finished talking. Then he asked me if I wanted any more babies. (Are you kidding? At age 54?!) Of course, I said no, and he said since I was finished with this equipment, let's remove it, mainly because the breast cancer was feeding on the estrogen from the ovaries. After mulling it over for a few days, I could see the good sense in it. In fact, it might save my life.
So, at this point, the plan sounded like this: Mastectomy within a month. After six weeks to recoup, a hysterectomy. After six more weeks to recoup again, 8 rounds of chemotherapy, followed by 30 radiation treatments, and 5 years of Arimidex, an estrogen blocker. (The idea is, if there is any cancer cell lurking around, looking for a place to take root, it will starve to death for lack of estrogen.) Wow! This physical tune-up was quickly turning into a major overhaul! I could see it was gonna be a loooong year. TO BE CONTINUED . . . .
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