positive change 2008
dairy of a cancer
some pictures and text may not be suitable for everyone
I have cancer, OK
Let’s schedule surgery and get ‘er gone
Well, I regret to inform you that it just doesn’t work that way, not even close. Here is my
experience as I remember it. {I probably forgot more that I remember, ADHA and chemo
brain and all, you know.} I hope this account will help if you, a loved one, or a friend is
facing cancer, specifically breast cancer, but I suspect that the journey will be similar for
other cancers as well. As I bemoaned repeatedly, to anyone who would listen,
throughout this entire process, which frustrated me immensely, it’s not the cancer that is
challenging it’s all the garbage before and after that gets to you. Please realize that I
cognitively know it’s not garbage and that I cognitively know each step is important in it’s
own way, but emotionally and physically it really ‘chapped my hide.’ I had other, more
important, things to do instead of messing with this “stuff.” Wasting time on me was just
NOT on my agenda of things to do, or goals to accomplish this millennium. Spending
time with my kids, my step-kids, my grandbabies, my family, my students, my graduate
work, and running for president were all on my list of important things to do; and they
were all curtailed by a “cancer.” So here is the tale, well at least part of it. I have
probably left out more than I have included.
Let’s schedule surgery and get ‘er gone
Well, I regret to inform you that it just doesn’t work that way, not even close. Here is my
experience as I remember it. {I probably forgot more that I remember, ADHA and chemo
brain and all, you know.} I hope this account will help if you, a loved one, or a friend is
facing cancer, specifically breast cancer, but I suspect that the journey will be similar for
other cancers as well. As I bemoaned repeatedly, to anyone who would listen,
throughout this entire process, which frustrated me immensely, it’s not the cancer that is
challenging it’s all the garbage before and after that gets to you. Please realize that I
cognitively know it’s not garbage and that I cognitively know each step is important in it’s
own way, but emotionally and physically it really ‘chapped my hide.’ I had other, more
important, things to do instead of messing with this “stuff.” Wasting time on me was just
NOT on my agenda of things to do, or goals to accomplish this millennium. Spending
time with my kids, my step-kids, my grandbabies, my family, my students, my graduate
work, and running for president were all on my list of important things to do; and they
were all curtailed by a “cancer.” So here is the tale, well at least part of it. I have
probably left out more than I have included.
 |
 |
Once upon as time not so very long ago there lived a lady. She was a rather ordinary lady with a rather ordinary
life and it well suited her. She stayed busy and enjoyed the journey. Her ‘love of life’ was known by most of those
who knew her. Blessed in many ways, she strove to remember and be thankful for those blessings. But, one day
“a series of unfortunate events”1, or rather a specific change happened in her life that might, could, would
change that life forever. No, she did not win the lottery, primarily because she did not play. No, she did not met
the president, although she was running for that position, and this did delay her campaign. No, she did not
inherit the vast fortunes of an Arab sheik or a Nigerian oil tycoon {even though she received repeated offers of
such like in her email, which she marked as Spam of course. Smart cookie, don’t you think?}
But, she was diagnosed with cancer. They say cancer changes your life forever and this tale should shed some
light on why that is true.
PART I - pre-surgery
It begins:
Fall 2006
My first clue …
My hair is ratting.
Not just a few tangles ‘cause it’s dirty or some such reason.
It is ratting.
My hair doesn’t rat.
You can tie my hair in a knot and it will slowly slip out.
You can braid it and if you don’t clip it or band it, and it will come right out.
So my hair is ratting.
Could it be –
~Stress
no, because I “strive on stress that would kill other people.”2
~ the gas heater
no, because it never did this in the past and the heater hasn’t changed
~my shampoo and/or cream rinse
try a different one, no change
November
Could it be something serious is happening with my body, like cancer?
First week in January ~ snow days
I love snow days!
I love the snow!
A snow day gives me an unexpected opportunity to play, or get caught up on ‘things’ that have t get done, or on
schoolwork.
I find a lump/bump.
A lump?
I’ve had many in the past, the Dr. always says they are fibrous cysts and since I’ve had cysts in the past, as early
as 1969, I think nothing of it, except my hair is still ratting.
I suspect foul play.
January
I schedule an appointment with my primary care Dr.
He thinks it’s just a liquid cyst that will drain.
No, I say.
My cysts don’t act like that and I’ve had enough of them to know.
He doesn’t listen.
He gets a long needle and punctures it trying to drain it.
It doesn’t drain.
{Told you so, I know my body.}
He orders a mammogram {ouch, don’t like those} and a sonogram.
I schedule them.
I look for a new primary care Dr.
The mammogram revels pretty much nothing, as it did in the previous summer.
The sonogram didn’t do very well either until I directed the search.
The lumps are located.
The specialist is called.
They want biopsies on both breasts, now.
Two biopsies, one biopsy on one side and one biopsy on the other.
I frequently hear about biopsies.
What in the world are biopsies, anyway?
I guess I’ll find out.
I schedule the biopsies.
The best day to schedule the biopsies is Feb. 14, because I don’t need a substitute to cover my classes that day.
Some Valentine’s day present, huh?
14 February 2007
Biopsies.
Procedure as follows:
Outpatient procedure.
The eternal hospital gown, so stylish. LOL
This is so me, don’t you think.
You lay on the bed in the sonogram room, just as you would for a regular sonogram.
It actually begins with the sonogram and continues the sonogram through until the end of the biopsy.
The sonogram tech locates the suspicious lumps again.
The specialist comes in to do the biopsies.
The sonogram tech shows the specialist where the lumps are and they mark them, with a marker.
This is a team effort.
They decide to only do one biopsy on each breast.
I don’t really understand why.
But then, I don’t really understand cancer, except that it likes to turn healthy cells to the dark side.
Yes Darth Vader3 has his attraction, but not when it comes to my cells.
They begin.
Topical numbing is applied, like at the dentist’s.
First a very small slit is made.
Second the biopsy tool is inserted.
You don’t feel the incision or the entry of the tool, but you do feel the rest.
Remember the numbing is topical and the needle is much more than topical, because it has to reach the lump.
The sonogram is working side by side with the insertion tool to make sure the sample is taken from the correct
site/lump.
They proceed to the first lump in the right breast.
The tool is guided by the sonogram reading.
It is pushed through the breast tissue to the first lump.
They go for a sample from the top of the lump.
They tell me what they are doing.
They walk me thorough each step.
The tool takes the first sample.
Yieks, what was that?
The first sample is shocking.
It feels like when you got hit by a little rock from a sling shot or a BB gun as a kid.
Small I know, but rather unexpected, and in a location that has never felt such a contact.
I am very unprepared for what it felt like.
Not having a referent or any such prior experience makes this quite challenging.
CHALLENGING ~ that is now my new word. I will use it frequently here after!
Breathe. OK, maybe breathe again.
Next a sample is taken from the middle of the same lump.
Same sequence again, but I now know what to expect and I handle this one a whole lot better.
Finally a sample from the bottom of the first lump.
This is the lump I’m suspicious of.
This is the one that gave me impetus to see my Dr. (the ex-Dr. remember?)
They remove the insertion tool.
They tape up the right insertion point.
The first biopsy is done.
Now for the left breast.
I’m more prepared for the second one, because I now know what to expect.
Local is applied.
The sonogram locates the lump.
The incision is made.
The needle is inserted with the capturing mechanism.
Four samples are taken of this lump, it is larger and unusually shaped.
The tool is removed.
They tape me up.
Remove self from the table and discard the signature hospital gown.
Then they give me these cute little flat reusable ice packs that fit in my bra.
That is the coolest thing about the day ~ by far.
Maybe even the coolest thing about the week.
They send my samples to pathology and schedule a follow up to go over the results.
Thank you Lord, you got me through it.
Follow-up appointment.
The pathology results.
The lump I found in January came out positive for cancer.
I knew it would.
My hair told me.
Weird, I know and remember everyone’s experience is different.
I have never heard of anyone else who knew they had cancer because of their hair.
So your clue could be very different, but listen to your body.
The team recommends that I see a surgeon to remove the lump.
They call to set up the appointment.
Now that the cancer is confirmed, it’s research time.
I really don’t want chemo ~ too many potential side effects that are not very nice.
I really don’t want radiation either.
My oldest, CT, goes with me to see the surgeon.
The surgeon seems rather intimidated by my desire not to have chemotherapy or radiation therapy.
She is tongue-tied and not like one who is challenged with a speech impediment.
It feels like I know more about cancer than she does.
Not true I’m sure, but this is how I feel.
I shut up and listen to the rest of what she has to say.
I have NO confidence in her as a surgeon.
She indicates the seriousness of having the surgery ASAP.
I schedule a follow up appointment.
I schedule pre-op and surgery.
I’m still not comfortable with her and her plan for the cutting.
At church I talk to my friend M and I ask her about her breast cancer. I ask her lots of questions.
She recommends her surgeon.
A second opinion is always good for anything serious.
I call her surgeon.
They squeeze me in today.
Kool.
I’m impressed.
Dude! This gal knows her stuff.
I don’t intimidate her in the least.
She gets out her own sonogram machine and locates the lumps and everything without any direction from me.
Yeah, I’m impressed.
I let her know my concern for my nipple.
Stupid I know, but hey it’s mine.
She indicates that it should not be a problem to save the nipple.
She does indicate that I will have a nasty scar.
Kool, I like scars.
Except mine heal up really well and don’t look nasty at all. Pout!
She orders all the lab work and pathology work and pictures to be sent to her.
She requests another mammogram and sonogram, because the reports are a little confusing, to say the least.
Part of the data says the location of the cancer is at three o’clock and part of the data says 7 o’clock. These are
very different locations.
Better safe than sorry, I like her policy.
Come to find out the first surgeon I went to see specializes in gall bladders.
Breast cancer – gall bladder, significantly divergent.
No wonder I was feeling reticent.
I feel better now, it wasn’t just me being weird-ed out.
Surgery scheduled for spring break.
Oh well, what was I going to do but something enjoyable anyway.
Woops, they found more lumps in the sonogram and the surgeon wants to get more biopsies.
So it’s biopsies instead of surgery over Spring Break.
No problem I’m a pro at these.
One on each side of course.
They place little titanium markers at the site of the biopsy so that they know exactly which one they checked. (in
case you do this again?)
Titanium, huh?
I wonder if I will set off the detectors at the airport?
What do I say?
Sorry, dude it’s my titanium headers and they are not removable?
Or do I lay down on the conveyor belt and ride right through the x-ray machine?
Surely they have taken this into consideration and not placed enough metal in my tissues to alarm the Bureau of
Homeland Security.
One would think.
I guess I’ll find out in December.
But my body really doesn’t like metal. How will this turn out?
life and it well suited her. She stayed busy and enjoyed the journey. Her ‘love of life’ was known by most of those
who knew her. Blessed in many ways, she strove to remember and be thankful for those blessings. But, one day
“a series of unfortunate events”1, or rather a specific change happened in her life that might, could, would
change that life forever. No, she did not win the lottery, primarily because she did not play. No, she did not met
the president, although she was running for that position, and this did delay her campaign. No, she did not
inherit the vast fortunes of an Arab sheik or a Nigerian oil tycoon {even though she received repeated offers of
such like in her email, which she marked as Spam of course. Smart cookie, don’t you think?}
But, she was diagnosed with cancer. They say cancer changes your life forever and this tale should shed some
light on why that is true.
PART I - pre-surgery
It begins:
Fall 2006
My first clue …
My hair is ratting.
Not just a few tangles ‘cause it’s dirty or some such reason.
It is ratting.
My hair doesn’t rat.
You can tie my hair in a knot and it will slowly slip out.
You can braid it and if you don’t clip it or band it, and it will come right out.
So my hair is ratting.
Could it be –
~Stress
no, because I “strive on stress that would kill other people.”2
~ the gas heater
no, because it never did this in the past and the heater hasn’t changed
~my shampoo and/or cream rinse
try a different one, no change
November
Could it be something serious is happening with my body, like cancer?
First week in January ~ snow days
I love snow days!
I love the snow!
A snow day gives me an unexpected opportunity to play, or get caught up on ‘things’ that have t get done, or on
schoolwork.
I find a lump/bump.
A lump?
I’ve had many in the past, the Dr. always says they are fibrous cysts and since I’ve had cysts in the past, as early
as 1969, I think nothing of it, except my hair is still ratting.
I suspect foul play.
January
I schedule an appointment with my primary care Dr.
He thinks it’s just a liquid cyst that will drain.
No, I say.
My cysts don’t act like that and I’ve had enough of them to know.
He doesn’t listen.
He gets a long needle and punctures it trying to drain it.
It doesn’t drain.
{Told you so, I know my body.}
He orders a mammogram {ouch, don’t like those} and a sonogram.
I schedule them.
I look for a new primary care Dr.
The mammogram revels pretty much nothing, as it did in the previous summer.
The sonogram didn’t do very well either until I directed the search.
The lumps are located.
The specialist is called.
They want biopsies on both breasts, now.
Two biopsies, one biopsy on one side and one biopsy on the other.
I frequently hear about biopsies.
What in the world are biopsies, anyway?
I guess I’ll find out.
I schedule the biopsies.
The best day to schedule the biopsies is Feb. 14, because I don’t need a substitute to cover my classes that day.
Some Valentine’s day present, huh?
14 February 2007
Biopsies.
Procedure as follows:
Outpatient procedure.
The eternal hospital gown, so stylish. LOL
This is so me, don’t you think.
You lay on the bed in the sonogram room, just as you would for a regular sonogram.
It actually begins with the sonogram and continues the sonogram through until the end of the biopsy.
The sonogram tech locates the suspicious lumps again.
The specialist comes in to do the biopsies.
The sonogram tech shows the specialist where the lumps are and they mark them, with a marker.
This is a team effort.
They decide to only do one biopsy on each breast.
I don’t really understand why.
But then, I don’t really understand cancer, except that it likes to turn healthy cells to the dark side.
Yes Darth Vader3 has his attraction, but not when it comes to my cells.
They begin.
Topical numbing is applied, like at the dentist’s.
First a very small slit is made.
Second the biopsy tool is inserted.
You don’t feel the incision or the entry of the tool, but you do feel the rest.
Remember the numbing is topical and the needle is much more than topical, because it has to reach the lump.
The sonogram is working side by side with the insertion tool to make sure the sample is taken from the correct
site/lump.
They proceed to the first lump in the right breast.
The tool is guided by the sonogram reading.
It is pushed through the breast tissue to the first lump.
They go for a sample from the top of the lump.
They tell me what they are doing.
They walk me thorough each step.
The tool takes the first sample.
Yieks, what was that?
The first sample is shocking.
It feels like when you got hit by a little rock from a sling shot or a BB gun as a kid.
Small I know, but rather unexpected, and in a location that has never felt such a contact.
I am very unprepared for what it felt like.
Not having a referent or any such prior experience makes this quite challenging.
CHALLENGING ~ that is now my new word. I will use it frequently here after!
Breathe. OK, maybe breathe again.
Next a sample is taken from the middle of the same lump.
Same sequence again, but I now know what to expect and I handle this one a whole lot better.
Finally a sample from the bottom of the first lump.
This is the lump I’m suspicious of.
This is the one that gave me impetus to see my Dr. (the ex-Dr. remember?)
They remove the insertion tool.
They tape up the right insertion point.
The first biopsy is done.
Now for the left breast.
I’m more prepared for the second one, because I now know what to expect.
Local is applied.
The sonogram locates the lump.
The incision is made.
The needle is inserted with the capturing mechanism.
Four samples are taken of this lump, it is larger and unusually shaped.
The tool is removed.
They tape me up.
Remove self from the table and discard the signature hospital gown.
Then they give me these cute little flat reusable ice packs that fit in my bra.
That is the coolest thing about the day ~ by far.
Maybe even the coolest thing about the week.
They send my samples to pathology and schedule a follow up to go over the results.
Thank you Lord, you got me through it.
Follow-up appointment.
The pathology results.
The lump I found in January came out positive for cancer.
I knew it would.
My hair told me.
Weird, I know and remember everyone’s experience is different.
I have never heard of anyone else who knew they had cancer because of their hair.
So your clue could be very different, but listen to your body.
The team recommends that I see a surgeon to remove the lump.
They call to set up the appointment.
Now that the cancer is confirmed, it’s research time.
I really don’t want chemo ~ too many potential side effects that are not very nice.
I really don’t want radiation either.
My oldest, CT, goes with me to see the surgeon.
The surgeon seems rather intimidated by my desire not to have chemotherapy or radiation therapy.
She is tongue-tied and not like one who is challenged with a speech impediment.
It feels like I know more about cancer than she does.
Not true I’m sure, but this is how I feel.
I shut up and listen to the rest of what she has to say.
I have NO confidence in her as a surgeon.
She indicates the seriousness of having the surgery ASAP.
I schedule a follow up appointment.
I schedule pre-op and surgery.
I’m still not comfortable with her and her plan for the cutting.
At church I talk to my friend M and I ask her about her breast cancer. I ask her lots of questions.
She recommends her surgeon.
A second opinion is always good for anything serious.
I call her surgeon.
They squeeze me in today.
Kool.
I’m impressed.
Dude! This gal knows her stuff.
I don’t intimidate her in the least.
She gets out her own sonogram machine and locates the lumps and everything without any direction from me.
Yeah, I’m impressed.
I let her know my concern for my nipple.
Stupid I know, but hey it’s mine.
She indicates that it should not be a problem to save the nipple.
She does indicate that I will have a nasty scar.
Kool, I like scars.
Except mine heal up really well and don’t look nasty at all. Pout!
She orders all the lab work and pathology work and pictures to be sent to her.
She requests another mammogram and sonogram, because the reports are a little confusing, to say the least.
Part of the data says the location of the cancer is at three o’clock and part of the data says 7 o’clock. These are
very different locations.
Better safe than sorry, I like her policy.
Come to find out the first surgeon I went to see specializes in gall bladders.
Breast cancer – gall bladder, significantly divergent.
No wonder I was feeling reticent.
I feel better now, it wasn’t just me being weird-ed out.
Surgery scheduled for spring break.
Oh well, what was I going to do but something enjoyable anyway.
Woops, they found more lumps in the sonogram and the surgeon wants to get more biopsies.
So it’s biopsies instead of surgery over Spring Break.
No problem I’m a pro at these.
One on each side of course.
They place little titanium markers at the site of the biopsy so that they know exactly which one they checked. (in
case you do this again?)
Titanium, huh?
I wonder if I will set off the detectors at the airport?
What do I say?
Sorry, dude it’s my titanium headers and they are not removable?
Or do I lay down on the conveyor belt and ride right through the x-ray machine?
Surely they have taken this into consideration and not placed enough metal in my tissues to alarm the Bureau of
Homeland Security.
One would think.
I guess I’ll find out in December.
But my body really doesn’t like metal. How will this turn out?
PART II - surgery
PART III - chemo therapy
PART IV - life after chemo
Resources coming ...
