Category: Life

Yes, I let the holidays sweep me up in the tide of good tidings.  Before I got caught in the undertow, I did go up for an MRI and a visit with Dr. Surgeon, who I guess I’ll call Dr. Follow-up now.  I am visualizing her hanging up her surgery hat before she enters the exam room when I’m there.

SO Dr. Follow-up came in smiling, commented on my curls, told me I looked well.  She also said that the CT scan looked great… (I’m thinking, yea, but I’m here for the MRI follow up).  Then she said as she was showing me a piece of paper in the chart “This is a short report….”  “Short reports mean that no malignancies were found, and that’s exactly what we want!”  She did an exam of my chest wall, and of my healthy  breast and proceeded to ask me how our trip to Alaska was.  She’s a keeper.

I have oncology and radiation oncology follow-ups next week.  And so it will go.  At some point I suppose I’ll decide that I don’t want to keep on doing follow ups with 3 doctors, but for this first year at least, I’m following all recommendations for such appointments.  After I’m 1 year from my last treatment, I’ll think beyond my nose, AND I will go back to giving blood.  (The red cross told me that they only require that people who have been diagnosed with cancer be 1 year out from the last cancer treatment, with no further cancer detected.)

We had a wonderful day on the mountain yesterday, it was about 50 degrees, the warmest in our 10-12 years of hiking on Jan 1.  We ate clementines and threw the peels over the edge, sending old mojo into the abyss and setting our sights on the year to come.  The kids made a tiny snowman.  We spend the better part of our day around loved ones, nourishing our bodies with some great food and nourishing our hearts with love and laughter.   Here’s to putting 2010 to bed.

The splendid view from the top!

SO my walking partner D and I proclaimed that this is day 1 on the march to the Solstice.  Only 182 1/2 days to go to the longest day of the year!  We trudged in the snow this morning at 5, declaring that we were in the O’light:30 time zone rather than O’dark:30.  The sky was cloud covered, there was not even a hint of glow on the horizon…not even in the direction of the largest Wally World.  But we sang what we knew of the Boss’s “Cadillac, Cadillac, hmmm hmmmm hmmmm, Shiney and Black” song and did a fantastic improv of “You Are My Sunshine” in honor of today.  The black dogs that are our faithful walking companions didn’t mind a bit, in fact I think I heard them humming along.

I am ever grateful for you D.

Really, I have two more entries and this will be a done deal…it’s just taking time, so I’ll keep you updated on post cancer treatment related scanning until we are done.  I’m getting the MRI follow-up results (from last Thursday’s scan) tomorrow. 

Thanks for continuing to check in.

When I pick up a magazine in a waiting room, I immediately look for the recipes. The ones with pictures are my favorite and really draw me in.  Have you ever seen a picture of something that looks really tasty only to find that the recipe was NO WHERE to be found? It sometimes inspires recipe rage. OK, maybe not RAGE, but I’ll admit to feeling let down. Having had some experience now in waiting rooms, I have been witness to many different ways that people pilfer recipes.  Here what I’ve encountered:

1. Ask the receptionist if s/he could make a photo copy.  Most will do this happily.
2. Write it down with your own pen and paper or borrow some from the office.
3. Rip it out of the magazine without feeling any remorse.
4. Look around and see if anyone is paying attention to you.  If the answer is no, remove the page from the magazine being careful not to draw too much attention with the ripping sounds or your look of intense concentration.  Fold it up quietly and slip it into your pocket, wallet, underwear or sock.
5. Take the whole magazine and vow to bring it back at your next visit.  this is especially possible when recieving radiation as your next visit might very well be the next day. They will hardly miss it!

I could probably publish a fair sized cookbook from all the recipies I…um…found.  It would be a shame not to share them, so here’s the list of some of the yummiest looking ones. Some have actually made it to our table.

Sloppy Veg-Head Joe
Mud Pie
Pasta with Fire Roasted Vodka Sauce
Winter Minestrone Soup
Ancho Pork and Hominy Stew
Mexican Chocolate Cookies
Homemade Chocolate/Peanut Butter Pudding
Corn and Salsa Tortilla Soup
Spaghetti with Clam Sauce and Grape Tomatoes
Grilled Hot-and-Sour Shrimp with Watermelon-Watercress Salad
Halibut with Corn Gravy
Devilish Sesame Chicken with Green Beans and Scallion Rice
Chicken and Edamame in Lettuce Cups
Whole Wheat Chocolate Blueberry Cake
Chicken with Caramelized Cauliflower & Green Olives
Braciole with Grape Tomatoes
Salmon Steaks with Tricolor Pepper Relish
Balsamic-Glazed Short Ribs
Greek Lamb with Spinach and Artichokes
Beet and Apple Soup with Horseradish Cream
Smokey Tomatoe-Salmon Chowder
Walnut, Artichoke and Goat Cheese Strudel
Chicken Rolled around Asparagus with Apricot Glaze
Easy Oreo Truffles

Oh and if, uh, you saw a picture of one of these dishes but could not find the recipe…let me know, I may be able to help you out.

I just received the appointment for my risk assessment follow up.  12/21/10.  It leads me to think that risk assessments are not of an urgent nature like CT scans and the like…it doesn’t FEEL urgent to me, but it DOES feel like information I’d like to have.  Making the decision about participating in a risk assessment felt like a sort-of-kinda-medium-big decision on a scale of really small to really big.  Even though I was put in a low risk catagory, the actions I might take if I were to come up positive for the BRCA 1 and BRCA 2 genes, are fairly major.

Before I published this entry, I received a call this afternoon offering an earlier appointment for the risk assessment results.  Apparently Dr. Genetic Specialist works only one day a week at the Cancer Center, which I was unaware of.  Even so, I’ve been given a 12/7 appointment…that’s next week.  I think I can do that.  BTW, all is going well.  I feel well.  My hair continues to curl and make me smile every day.  I’m a little itchy these days, but am dealing with it.

There are a couple more planned entries and I think we’ll call this a wrap.

Just a quick note that I had my last port blood draw yesterday for the BRCA testing. (Testing for the genes that are known to put someone at higher risk for ovarian and breast cancer.)  I was at the drive through at my bank on Tuesday and my windows were down.  I heard “Hi P…” coming from the other drive through lane.  It was A one of the other really kind nurses who was around for chemo.  I just burst out “I’m having my port removed Friday!” and she cheered and cheered.  I suppose it’s sort of like me picking out bananas at the grocery store and someone coming to me to tell me about their latest accomplishments with substance abuse / mental health recovery.  When I hear good news it helps me to remember why I do the work I do.  When people approach me and start talking about struggles, I always table it for a more private conversation.  SO I left laughing, hoping A felt the same way!

Well, I was able to find out what A thought, because when I went for my blood draw, she was the nurse accessing the port.  First, I was sent to the lab, but the nurse calling me in told me I had to get a kit from the social worker. SO I went back up.  The social worker had special consent forms for the genetic testing, and did have a box, the kit, which she handed to the nurse when we went back down to the lab.  A celebrated the last draw and it went without a hitch.  There were hugs and people smiling as I left.  The results are due in 10-14 days, and Dr. Genetic Specialist will set up an appointment with me as she likes to review results with everyone.  I remember she said “I’m never surprised by a positive result, but I have been quite surprised by negative results.” This means that people she considers very high risk have been negative for BRCA 1 and BRCA 2.  This also means that there may be some other genes connected to ovarian/breast cancer which have not been cloned yet.  She puts me in the low risk category, by the way.

So the next circle closing is the port coming out on Friday.  I had a dream last night about it, it was sort of one of those dreams that didn’t make much sense.  I am looking forward to seeing Dr. Surgeon and getting this vein saving device out of my body.  It will make  A and E very happy to, not see it sticking out under my collar bone.

This is what this trail seems to be now.  There will be times of quiet.  There will be times anticipating more blood tests or scans.  I may think I have found something foreign like a lump on my body somewhere, sometime, which may lead me to think about all the what ifs.  And there will be the waiting for results.  I know there are others out there with me who are holding their breath when I am, and who are holding ME when I can’t hold myself.  I know there are other out there who have to get tested much more often than I, who have to deal with uncertainty constantly.  I know all of us have to survive something.  I also know that there are others who have not survived.  I’m just grateful to have had this chance to come through this.

More after the port comes out.

I received the appointment for the final CT scan, which is scheduled for next week.  I’ll keep you posted.  This is really like the punctuation on this year of treatments.  Life has felt normal and full of distractions so I have not really spent much time worrying about the scan.  I’ve spent more time thinking about all the support we still have after a long year, and came across this quote in a book I’ve been reading.

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person.  Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.  Albert Schweitzer

Thank you for keeping my light aglow.  Gratitude abounds.

We participated in the Walk For Hope living ribbon on Cancer Survivor’s Day.   It was such a beautiful day.  At some point a new regional hospital will be on these grounds, which is adjacent to the cancer center.  A beautiful place for healing in my opinion.  We are at the tip on the lower right side as you look at the pic.  You can see E‘s dark pants and dark hair right a the point and A’s blue shorts. (haven’t they gotten tall?!)  A has designed the shirt for the walk, which is “SICK” as her friends say (that’s good). I’m waiting quotes for the printing, and then we’ll be all set as a team!  So far we have 14 members walking and have raised $745.00! (the link is on the tab above WALK4HOPE 2010 if you are interested in joining us or donating.)

I’ve seen a few people who I have not run across in quite a few months.  They ask how I’m doing, if treatments are over.  I’m so happy when I can say a resounding yes.  The “Are you cancer free?” question has a different impact.  My typical response is “As far as we can tell.”  Why am I so tentative?  Well I guess it’s just because if you asked me that 1 1/2 years ago I would have looked at you like you were out of your mind.  Of course I’m cancer free.  Look at how I live. Look at my family history.  I nursed my children for a million years.  Don’t these all put me in a low risk category?  Even WITH my new history, my health risk assessment at work puts me in a low risk category.  Go figure.

I’m starting to understand what other survivors have told me about having isolated moments when I’m a bit unsure.  Like a headache, when I normally don’t get headaches.  (It lasted one afternoon, mind you, and a little ibuprophen went a long way to douse the pain.) Like some joint pain, when I have only really just gotten back into daily walking, stretching, some yoga.  (On a side note, isn’t aging a funny thing?  I totally deny that aging has ANYTHING to do with stuff like aches and pains!)  Like anticipating the date for the CT scan arriving in the mail any day this week.  Mostly I am not anxious.  I just go in for my port flushes like it’s any other day.  I talk with the nurse about the day I will have the port removed and they cheer.  “Just waiting for that last CT scan.”  I’m not likely to loose sleep, thanks to my inherited sleep gene from Pop.  I let the thoughts/fears just pass through me most of the time.

Speaking of genes, I’ve received the genetic specialist’s notes from our visit.  How is it that some providers can remember so much info so accurately with such detail?  The social worker suggested that if I wanted to pursue, that she run just the letter from the doc by the insurance company to see if she can obtain prior authorization.  I’m likely to go that route.  If they deny or ask for clinical info, then with my permission, she’d send the note from the visit with all the family history.  B and I are still debating the pros and cons of this.  My nurse practitioner angel is really supporting the test if we can feel comfortable with the info being sent.  So that’s still simmering.  One thing Dr. Genetic Specialist said in the report was that if my family history changes AT ALL with regard to cancer (perish the thought), it would most likely make me eligible for the testing.  I’d rather the $3500 go to the Walk4Hope if insurance won’t pay to tell you the truth.  I plan to inform my relatives of the recommendations as they stand, especially female relatives.

The comedian who performed at Cancer Survivor’s Day was Scott Burton.  If you are interested, check him out on the web.  His message fits with today’s entry because the living ribbon is about living.  I agree with Scott when he says that being a survivor does not make us anything special.  Everyone has to survive things in their lives.  We just have to remember to keep on living.

I’ve declared my mother’s angelhood here before.  I spent 5 or 6 days with her as she recovered from some procedures.  Being in a hospital, remembering the anesthesia FUNK that just doesn’t seem to go away, just wanting to sleeeeeeeeeep…all of these things were so very familiar to me and yet so very far away, thankfully.  I saw women with scarves on their heads.  I saw children who were bald.  I saw very caring personal care attendants, nurses and docs.

So the worst is over for this episode for me and us.  What remains does not feel daunting right now.  I have  fleeting moments where I wonder if I’ll be around a year from now, whether cancer will be the cause of my death or not.  I have many more moments where I am just in the moment and realize that that is all I have ever had, even before diagnosis. 

While I was away with Mom, my family got along fine without me.  When I returned, it was a particularly busy day with more family and sport obligations than we had parents in the house, and so I was greatful to have been able to return when I did. 

I am happy to say that Mom is well.  She was forever commenting on how much darker she thought my hair was.  So many of the ladies who live in the same apartment as Mom commented on how lucky I was to have such curls.  Another said that she thought it was a wig.  It was great to see my mother among her own support group.  Her independence is very important to her partially because she does not want to burden her children, partly because it enables her to function at her very highest.  When I was not there she rested well after the hospitalization.  When I was there she felt obligated to have at least one eye open and pushed herself too far too soon.  When I went away and left her to her own devices, she napped and went to an activity and even asked a friend to the gameroom for a round of her favorite game.  Like me, she has so much incredible support.  These women who are survivors of their long lives, widowed, making a go of it with new ‘housemates’ and doing such a wonderful job of it.  I was reminded of all the support we have received this past year, and the lingering tenderness that has entered our relationships. 

Cancer is not the subject of most of my conversations any longer.  Every once in a while the inflection in someone’s voice when they ask “how ARE you?” tells me that they want to hear an update on the trail we’ve been on.  I’ve just recently been entertaining thoughts about the upcoming CT scan, which I don’t even think is scheduled yet…due sometime at the end of this month.  I don’t want to know that there are cancer cells in my body.  I do want to know that none are detected.  I do know that these tests are not conclusive. 

I am just taking one day at a time (as cliche as that sounds).  Today is a most beautiful day.  Clear, cool, and sunny.  A good day for a walk with D, a hike with S, cleaning out my garden and stacking wood with my partner and kids this afternoon.  My conversation with Mom last night found her with increasing energy, humor and love.  What could be more nourishing?  Time with loved ones, time outside, humor and a mother’s love.  Mmm, mmm,  GOOD.