Genetic testing

I thought I’d saunter into the survivorship clinic meeting with the genetic specialist MD and get my blood drawn after a quick consultation.  WRONG.  I brought the 5 page history form in all filled out, handed it in, was weighed and measured and … sat for too long waiting for the doc.  The staff were appropriately remorseful as they told me she’d be 15 minutes late.  About 45 minutes later she did come in. 

While I was waiting, I looked out to the pond with the fountain as the first rain in several days fell.  It was pretty much pouring, and the wind blew the spray from the fountain.  It splashed into the windblown pond in various patterns.  I love rainy days.  To restate the first sentence here, I really didn’t think much about the options that were about to be presented to me.  As I was enjoying the rain show, I let my mind wander into the darkness.  The purpose of genetic testing, in my opinion, was to see if there were any of the BRCA genes in my body that would determine the likelihood of a reoccurrence of cancer.  Just the idea of a reoccurrence and the subsequent treatment options, had me unimpressed.  I recalled the initial days of AC, the nausea, diarrhea, sadness, my hair loss, losing my ability to know what was going on in my body, fear of neuropathy, messed up nail beds, fatigue, burned skin…it all sort of flashed before me.  It was like I had both the feeling like it was yesterday and so long ago all at once.

Dr. Genetic Specialist came in and reviewed my family history.  The only notable cancer that I am aware of was my maternal uncle’s late in life prostate cancer, my paternal aunt’s colon cancer in her 70’s and my dad’s malanoma in his mid 50’s.  Unless the malanoma was a particular kind, none of these were of significant concern to her.  I don’t know what kind of malanoma it was, I DO know that my dad spent a lot of sunny days on roof tops and building houses without his shirt on, and never had a reoccurrence.  She asked if there was any chance that my biological grandparents could have been cousins or if I had Ashkenazi/Eastern European Jewish heritage, neither of which I answered in the affirmative.   I’m pretty sure about the Jewish heritage, and mostly sure that my grandparents were not cousins.  I suspect I could get into the geneology if I wanted to be sure as much as is possible.

These tests are done by one lab only.  They cost something like $3,500.  Insurance companies do not always cover the cost.  The social worker asked why I was considering this test.  Among my reasons was the fact that I have brothers, children, nieces and nephews and that I wanted to give them as much information about my/our genes that was available to us.  Another was to make choices about my body that could include prophylactic surgeries to remove the tissue that would be the most at risk (breast, ovaries and tubes).  I have a friend whose sister had ovarian cancer.  She had her OWN ovaries removed recently to avoid the occurrence of ovarian cancer herself.  Seems like a reasonable decision to me.  Social worker told me that I didn’t hear it from her, but I should NOT tell the insurance company that I wanted this test to help family members.  She asked if I would really consider having another mastectomy and removing my ovaries and tubes if it came back positive.

The catch here was that I did not meet any of the criteria that my insurance company (like most companies) laid out for eligibility.  The ONLY thing that remotely put me in the maybe catagory was that I was younger than age 50 when I was diagnosed.  That particular bullet said something like “under age 50 at diagnosis AND with two separate tumors”.  My tumor had ductile and lobular features, but was considered one tumor.

Enter conundrum flashback.  I was told that they could take my blood and send it on to the lab with my insurance and the lab could stop the process if/when they find out that it would not be covered.  No sweat off my back.  BUT Dr. Genetic Specialist would have to submit a very detailed family history to my insurance company, much much more information than they currently have.  It is allegedly illegal for the insurance companies to descriminate after obtaining so much info.  It is apparently NOT illegal for LIFE insurance companies to descriminate in this case.  And so, what did I want to do?

The thing that could have put me over the eligible edge would have been if there was one other case of breast cancer in my genetic history OR especially if there was ovarian cancer. 

At this point I have a DVD she gave me about genetic testing.  I plan to look it over.  B and I have discussed this and are leaning on the side of not pursuing at this point.  Dr. Genetic Specialist is going to talk with Dr. Oncologist.  She told me that she is NEVER surprised by a positive genetic test.  These individuals have significant ovarian/breast cancer in their families.  She is SOMETIMES surprised by negative tests.  She gave me a number, something like 7-10% of genetic testing comes back positive for BRCA 1 or BRCA 2.  She said that there will most likely eventually be more genes found to be related to cancer, but they just have not been cloned yet.  She said that based on my history she thought it would be fairly unlikely that I would test positive for the two genes that are currently identified as linked to breast/ovarian cancer.  She did offer a bit of advice.   She would recommend that breast screenings start for the next generation 10 years prior to the age I was when first diagnosed…age 37.  I can pass that on.

SO anyway.  There’s the long genetic testing story.  I’m going to watch the DVD, talk with others and sleep on it…maybe for many moons.  There is no rush.

Walk 4 Hope 2010

You’ll notice that there is a new TAB at the top near the comments tab: Walk4Hope 2010.   The walk is on October 16, Saturday.

 Like last year, we will update our team’s progress from time to time on that tab.  There is a link on that page both to the MaineGeneral walk site and a link to our team page.  It costs $10 to walk and you can make an additional donation if you want as well. (The fee is waived for survivors.)

 We’ve set an ambitious team goal of $5,000.  You can set your own fund raising goal if you want and it will go toward the team OR just join our team donation.  You can forward the team page to anyone you think might be interested in walking or making a donation. A and I are seriously considering designing a fun t-shirt for the walkers.  We’ll see how far that dream goes!

I’m excited to be walking without the influence of chemotherapy.  Actually, I’m just excited to be walking AND to be walking with many of you by my side, hand in hand, or in spirit, where you have been for this past year.

Thanks

In the moment

I really am not a very good blogger.  If I were following this blog, I probably would have given up checking for new entries by now.  I feel some sense of responsibility to whomever is still hanging in there with me and us, and appreciate that very much.  Like my favorite “there must be a pony in here some place” story, I would think checking in to see no new entries time and time again is sort of like that.

We had the good fortune of a generous set of friends who enabled us to take a vacation of our dreams back to where B and I used to live.  Plane tickets, a car waiting at the airport for us to use, a beautiful home stocked with food, a family with so much love to share and a boat that allowed us to frolick with marine wildlife and fish to our hearts’ content.  I want to put pics of our vacation in here to show the beauty of our favorite place and to show a family moving on from a year of cancer treatments.  Part of the delay has been that one camera cord is MISSING, so I cannot get the pics from there to here at this moment.  There is ONE photo card that can fit the card reader, so I’ve plucked some favorite morsals for today.  I promise that I will look diligently under clothes in the teenage bedrooms for the cord so I can put some other favorites up in future entries.

This entry today is about the moving on part of a family’s life with breast cancer.  We don’t have breast cancer any more, at least that is what we believe and what the latest info tells us.  We are moving on.  It’s about freedom and family time.  We were in Alaska for what felt like a month, but was really only just over a week.   We flew into Seattle, then into Juneau and then took an 8 seater plane into our first playground; Haines.

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There we visited a friend who is really into what I’d call Alaskan extreme sports.   Our friend S flies traction kites and takes them out at low tide, goes onto the ice, up mountains with skis, on the water with a wake board, and is able to take great leaps into the air 10 – 15 feet up it seems.

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When I had the chance to ride shotgun in S ‘s truck as we chased the low tide, he said “You know P, a lot of people think I’m an adrenalyn junkie.  But for me it is about being no where else but in the moment…you of all people know what I mean, I know that.”  This had me thinking a lot about my individual experience this last year and my need for space at times, my struggle not to get caught up in whatever could be upsetting or negatively engaging.  When it was my turn to fly the kites, I appreciated the fact that S gave instruction, held the bar when we needed him to, ran beside us, and then left us with our own intuition and the wind.

E-getting-directions-150x150E getting instruction from our pal S.

The picture below is of A flying the traction kite on her own at low tide.  It was an amazing experience for each of us to try out the trainer kite (11 square meters) and ultimately the 15, which you can see here is quite large.  The harness is just like the ones we wore rock climbing many moons ago.

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Time in Haines was short, but we were fully present and smooshed as much as we could into the moments there.  It helped to shrink the kids and tuck them into our pockets for ease of travel.

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We ferried back to Juneau and puddle jumped into Sitka for the bulk of our vacation.  Here we are out in the Pacific on a sunny day (a rarity in those parts).  This was before we threatened the fish population with our angling skills.

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Seeing B so free and peaceful was one of the greatest gifts.  He wanted to be nowhere else but on the water it seemed.

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We were delayed leaving by one day due to fog, no planes could land on the short runway.  We were either going to go to a real estate broker, or take care of a few dangling wishes on our to do list.  SO we went to the Raptor Center.  At one point we were all walking down a wooden pathway.  There were 7 of us.  A and B were arm in arm in the front, our friends A and M (mom and daughter) were next.  E and M (the two boys) took up the rear.  I was in the middle of these pairs and was very content with this set up.

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I had one thought that some may think is morbid:  we all just find a way to get by when we lose someone.   I was at once both very much in the moment of my own journey and seeing my family surrounded by beauty, friends and love.  I actually thought ‘If I were dead, they’d still be doing this.’  If at some point I’m not around and my family is, this is what will surround them.  That is comforting to me.

As for updates:  I am feeling well.  Radiation is still healing, believe it or not.  It flares some times, it itches sometimes.  I’m keeping it moisturized.   It seems my family is moving on as well.  I wear insta-breast to work like a good girl, most days.  I don’t wear it at all on weekends.  On especially hot days, it’s the first thing to come off when I get home.  I do feel good and frankly, less self conscious, now when I wear it in my professional life.  My chiropractor asked this week if I’d made any decisions about reconstruction, and I took a minute to answer.  When I told him my answer I felt so sure of myself and the direction I / we have chosen.  He said something about being very interested in our thought process and reasons for our choice.  And then he added “This is how you made it through this whole ordeal so steady and strong P.  You took your time, you respected your body, you accepted help, guidance and love. ”

I have to leave you with two more photos.  They speak for themselves.  They actually go side by side.

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Sunset from Harbor Mountain

We’re back!

Ok, ok, maybe a few people are awaiting pictures of our family enjoying our final frontier…you’ll just have to wait because I am a picture SPAZ and it will take concentration to get things in order and pick a few tastey morsals to post.  Suffice it to say that the trip was incredible.

For NOW, I’d like to know if any readers are in for another Walk 4 Hope.  It’s scheduled for Oct 16.  A and I were throwing out some team names, and she likes The ‘Save second base’ team.  We also thought about “Keep a breast” and “I (heart) boobies” which is a craze that our NY friend told us about…we now have a supply of wrist bands that say that in bold letters… I appreciate the humor that we share about this intense issue, really.  It makes it more approachable for people in my humble opinion.  We’re all affected by breast cancer or the threat of it.

Anyway, it’s likely that we will develop a team like last year and have a link for people who would like to walk with us or sponsor us…I’d just like to know if anyone out there is interested.  You can respond to this or email/call me.  I’d love to walk with you.

Off to Alaska

It was last year right about this time that I was in Arizona, B was in Alaska and our kids were home with friends.  It was at this time that I was given a breast cancer diagnosis and wrote a letter to B and left it on the dining room table because we could not connect by phone due to time zones and cell phones.  It was a year ago that we began down a trail with a new horse who we did not know. 

We are leaving today for our trip to Alaska.  It’s just too perfect.

You may not hear anything from us between now and our return.  In fact I mean not to even think about turning on a computer.

Thank you BW for the round trip plane tickets for us all.  What an incredible gift!

Compartmentalization

I think that has to be one of the longest words that I actually use.  (I mean, who REALLY uses antidisestablishmentarianism?)  I have used “compartmentalization”  in the course of my work in the mental health/substance abuse field.  I have observed and tried to help others who did not have skills to compartmentalize.  I have worked with people who compartmentalize to an extreme and have become quite emotionally and mentally fragmented.   I have left work many a day, grateful for the fact that some how, some where, I learned to do this.  Perhaps my psychological development wasn’t interfered with too much, and just by the natural flow of things, some of us learn to separate ourselves from things in a helpful and healthy way.

I am bringing this up because at this point I’m going on with my life.  Even when I put aloe on my radiated skin, and massage my scar to avoid scar tissue, it’s like it’s just part of my day now.  It does not act as a trigger for bad memories or fear.   Even when I have to choose every day whether or not to wear my prosthesis, it’s just part of my routine.  I have been at a softball tournament most of this weekend, with lots of people.  I am one among many cheering our girls on, making sure they have enough to drink, refilling the coolers with ice.  I WAS more vigilant about keeping sunscreen on my shoulders, arms and neck, and happily left the fields at almost DARK without a rash or any irritation.

I suspect that living with the identity of a breast cancer survivor, for some, could be the constant reminder that I want to avoid or ignore.   There are things that have come to light for me.  Oh, you know, the stuff that we all take for granted.  I hate to sound so cliche, but this is something that HAS come to the forefront for me.  There are just some things that are not worth the frustration any longer and there are things that I just do not want to let slip by.   Life IS too short to hold on to things that can get in the way.

I think I’m eager to get this tucked away for many reasons, not the least of which is my children.  They have done such an incredible job with this in their lives.  In my mother-teenager  relationships, I am learning a great deal.   A has taught me that she is very capable of taking care of herself and that she will ask me for help if and when she needs it.  Hovering and commenting does NOT help the relationship at all.  When she wants to be near me, she comes over.  When she wants a hug she asks for it.   I am welcome into many conversations with she and her friends, but I am careful about that timing.   I have people I call friends to help me with my emotional needs.  This is not my child’s job.   I know this is not how all people think, but it seems to be working really well for me and my relationships with my kids.    After E returned from 2 weeks away, of course I wanted to comment on how much deeper his voice was, I wanted to look him over, ask a million questions.  These were MY wants, not his.  He has clearly told me that interrogation is a sure fire way to shut him down.  I have to learn to listen better to what they are telling me.  In our teenagers’ individuation, I am learning to let them go.  They both still come for a snuggle or a conversation, and these are the times they are telling me they are open to a certain degree of me being a mom.  And being a mom is such a privilege for me.  The word friendship just doesn’t capture that relationship in my life.  As I move forward, I’m really trying to observe their process more and get out of the way when I can.

I don’t claim to have any corner on the market just because I’ve dealt with cancer.   My hide has been tanned, so to speak, and I wear a new skin.  I do not want to wear the ‘survivorship’ badge as a reason to be treated differently.  I have not been traumatized.  As I tuck this year’s experience into its capsule, I want to be careful to try not to let each follow up screen or test prick a hole in the capsule.   Each forward event is an experience on it’s own, and any baggage dragging behind me will only weigh me down.

I feel like I’m all over the map with this entry.  Any thoughts are really appreciated.

First day with that new breast?

I guess it was mid day before I stopped looking down and checking myself out in whatever reflection I could find.  I was fairly symmetrical for the first time since November 10th, 2009.  To be honest, I don’t know if I’m more self conscious right now with or without a breast on the left side.

I went to see the “fitta”, the other day.  She has been doing her job for over 20 years.  She’s worked with women who’ve had mastectomies, lopsided women, children/teens with physical deformities, some girls who are not able to grow their own breasts (i forgot what it’s called).  Her office is located at the Breast and Osteoporosis Center at the hospital.  She also works with girls, teens, women who have perfectly formed breasts too.   “I was so impressed when Dr. ‘Smith’ referred one of his patients to me. The woman didn’t have a heart attack, she was wearing the wrong size bra!”

The “fitta” really takes pride in her work.  Her largest project was a 54 LL or something like that.  She knows that a 38B might do better with a 40A, it just matters on the bone structure, broadness of the person’s shoulders or other anatomical anomalies.  She has a whole back room full of stuff from the most plain to the most lacey.  It didn’t take her long to find the right style and size for me.  She told stories that were like the “What Not to Wear show” in bra-land.  She could be a stand up comic in my opinion.  Amidst the hysterical stories, she also shared some very very touching stories that still bring tears to her own eyes, especially regarding one special needs, very deformed young woman who couldn’t stop looking at her new shape and who left her office with a huge smile.

She asked why I waited so long to get fitted.  She usually sees people as soon as the mastectomy incision heals, saying that she recommends that timing to help prevent the body from adjusting to the loss from a weight balancing perspective.  She’s more concerned about what others think than I am, and that was another of her reasons for getting a prosthesis soon after surgery.  I explained that I just didn’t feel ready to make the decision until I felt physically and emotionally healed from treatments.  She said adjusting to a prosthetic breast might tire my body out so I might want to work myself up by an hour each day.  Her recommendation was to wear it every day once I got used to it.  She said that she had her breast weighed on a mammogram machine.  She was 140 pounds and the breast weighed 5 pounds.  This is enough to affect balance and muscular/skeletal health.

I picked up a couple bras, the prosthesis and a tank, all of which will be paid for by my insurance (there is coverage throughout the rest of my life for a certain number of bras each year and new prostheses every so often), and I paid for a new bathing suit.  The garments have pockets to hold things in place. I walked out of there with a body hugging black tank top on like I was ready to show off my symmetry to the world.  The self consciousness didn’t come until the next morning.  From the P’s eye view, it’s not really a perfect match, but from the knowing observer’s view, it looks pretty convincing.  From the view of someone who is not aware of my journey, I suspect there would be minimal curiosity spawned.  I mean, how much time does anyone spend comparing left to right as they take in the human form?  Also, I’m not sure how symmetrical any of us are anyway.

I’m reminded of the experience of moving to Hartford and then to Washington DC.  I was not aware of how pathetically inexperienced I was in the land of race and skin color and had never really felt in the minority before that time.  Perhaps a bizarre connection to my experience now, but I have not really been overtly breast conscious in the 47 years prior to this experience.  Other than my experience in figure drawing classes, I had not really paid too much attention (from an aesthetic point of view) to the symmetry or shape of others’ breasts unless they were spilling out in front of me or were so big that I felt my back ache in sympathetic response.  When I started walking for fitness again as the weather got warmer and warmer and my layers peeled off, I didn’t even think about my asymmetry.  We walk at the golf course in the early morning when the landscapers and mowers are out in force.  I was told once that it’s none of my business what other people think of me.  This idea creats a shield for me I think, which protects me from being self conscious as my shape became more exposed.  I do think sometimes that this is just the reality of breast cancer.  I honestly don’t know what I’d think if I were the observer here.  The opportunity has never presented itself, or at least I have not noticed anyone sans breast.  There have only been a couple mornings as I’m sweating and walking up and around the course that I’ve noticed my consciousness of my form, but this doesn’t happen too often, nor does it linger or stop me from doing my thing.  I honestly don’t think most people notice at all.

Anyway, I went to work the next day complete with insta-breast.  As one might expect, as the day wore on, I became less and less aware of my special circumstances.  I can credit this in part to a fabulously fitting bra (thanks Rhanda).  I was not particularly fatigued or anything, having endured the whole day in my new contraption.  For the first time I felt like I was wearing an over-the-shoulder-bolder-holder.

I resisted going into every colleague’s office asking for an assessment.  BUT toward the end of the day, I did go into B’s office.  She’s my fellow snowman loving friend.  I pranced in, chest out and asked what she thought, as I twitched toward the left breast as a hint.  She was fairly impressed.  I mean, what are you supposed to say when a woman walks into your office asking you to look at her breasts and comment??  I was a good dube and kept my professional boundaries by not asking any male colleagues for their opinions.

Initially it feels in the way when I carry books in my left arm (Statue of Liberty style). It’s soft and all, but there, of course is no sensitivity.  (It reminded me of lying on my stomach while I was pregnant.  Something that hadn’t been there was there now, and it took some getting used to.) I was interested that I felt some, oh, I don’t know, grief or like I was this imposter or something.  It didn’t linger, but I want to be honest about the experience.  I had the “oh yea!” feeling as well, like, I think I remember what it was like to have one of these on that side, almost a familiar feeling of normalcy or something.  What a mixed bag.  By the end of the day, I was as oblivious to it as I could be on day 1.

I have to remember the reasons I chose not to get reconstruction immediately, and the reasons I still do not want reconstruction.  This choice has worked very well for me so far.  Being a rookie in the land of prosthetic breasts, I am, thus far, feeling good about the choice to get fitted.  Some things just fit better.  Shirts with buttons hang straight now.  (Really!) The large majority of bathing suits are made to mold around breasts, even tiny ones.  Sometimes I may just want to be balanced.  I like that I have the option.  I like that in the short time with this new companion that people have not even noticed anything.  That’s the best feedback I could ask for.

Thumbs up from Dr. Surgeon

I attended my 6 month follow up with Dr. Surgeon today, CD in hand with the digital images of my mammograms from the last 3 – 4 years. Here’s what she said:  “The mammogram looks great!”  “I would like to do an MRI in 6 months, alternating mammograms and MRI’s for two good runs.”  This is in part because the mammogram was not a good diagnostic tool for me on it’s own, and the MRI really gave us the information we needed.  I like this idea even if it means continued potential to glow in the dark.

Dr. Surgeon is just what I need.  She has great bedside manner.  She remembers my story.  She asks about my family.  She smiles a great big grin with good news and at the sight of curly hair.  She shoots straight.  She has a good balance of compassion and professionalism.  I just have so much confidence in and respect for her.  This has been so important for me, and I really recommend shopping around if someone is in need of a surgeon.  I told her I’d be a poster child if she ever wanted to advertise the craftswomanship of her work.  We laughed.

She asked about the port-a-cath, and I told her that Dr. Oncologist wanted to wait until the CT scan in September.  I also mentioned that what her nurse said about some people keeping them in for years, and my dislike of that idea.  She totally supports getting it out to reduce risk of blood clots among other reasons.  She said it’s so easy to take out (local anesthesia for those who can stand being awake for such a thing), and another can be put back in if it is ever needed.  I told her about all the complements on her placement of the port-a-cath and on the scar.  She was appropriately humble.

She asked about B and the kids and said that husbands and partners frequently have a really hard time with the sense of helplessness that they experience.  (This is in addition to the added responsibilities they must take on.) B and I noticed that we really were not able to quantify the amount of stress he was under during all of this.  We also have noticed a significant drop in stress level as I have been able to resume my functioning.  Taking his nose off the grindstone has been a wonderful thing for him and us.  I think I’ve said before that he counts on me getting up at o’dark:30 as much as I do now.  It means I’m back.

I have made an appointment to see the “fitta” next week for a prosthetic breast.  I told Dr. Surgeon that I was not sure what would come of it but wanted to talk with her about options.  Dr. S said “I think it’s a great idea.  I know women who wear them once in a while with certain outfits.  You can always just not use it, but having it gives you the option.  With large breasted women, I recommend them  to help with weight balance.”  My insurance covers all of this stuff as long as there is a prescription, so she gave me a prescription for prosthesis and bras.  The fitter has a boutique in the hospital and there are really beautiful bathing suits and camisoles and stuff for mastectomy women.  SO, next week I will go up and talk with her and get measured so I can have an instant breast on the left side if I ever want it.  I’ll tell you how it goes.

There.  Now I feel like I can say with confidence that so far I have a clean bill of health.  The scan in September will be the next step on the mission.

Girls just wanna have fun

B and E are off to camping adventures in New Hampster.  That means A, I, the katz and fish are left to our own devices.   Let the wild rumpus start!

It was raining this morning, such a perfect Monday morning to stay under the covers with the purr balls keeping me company.  Instead D and I met at o’light:30 and put in our hour on the golf course.  We’ve been so faithful of late, and are enjoying our committment to one another and ourselves.  I had haircut #2 today.  My friend and hair cutter (and woman-in-the-know) told me that the last time I was there (for my first cut post chemo), the others who were there said something after I left about wishing they were brave enough to cut their hair as short as mine was.  “Oh, if they only knew!” she said, knowing very well what it feels like to have renewed faith in hair folicles.  I swear, not a day goes by without a comment.  SOOOOO, here are some pics of the curly locks.

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As you have probably noticed, I’m not much for showing myself here, but it really isn’t fair to keep the hairy details from such faithful readers.  One thing I love about the instant gratification of digital photography is how willing teenagers are to hang out in front of the camera and how goofy we can get without trying.   

You may recall that this story started about a year ago while B was in Alaska.  We all are heading out there at the end of July.  There’s something right about this timing for me and us.  No it’s not a beachy vacation that some 16 year olds dream about, but there will be beach.  There will be fishing in the deep pacific waters.  There will be hiking and connecting with friends.  There will be a nice ferry ride from Haines to Juneau with wild life and glaciers.  There will be puddle jump plane flights from Juneau to Haines, and Juneau to Sitka.  We are all pretty stoked about this.  There will be lots of day light to see our way into a new year.

When it is just A and I, it doesn’t seem to take very long to get into our rhythm.  There is affection each day, conversation and snuggling, music and quiet.  I am ever grateful for her presence in my life, and for the boys for getting out of our hair so that we can be girls together without interference from the Y chromosomes.

G.O. = Guarded Optimism

I suppose I’ll find many uses for the G.O. initials.  It has morphed for today.  I had my annual mammogram.  Short story: the radiologist doesn’t want to see me for 6-12 months (they are bowing to the opinion of the surgeon on that call).  That is good news for all intents and purposes.

Why Guarded Optimism?  Well, I’ve heard this before.  I still have dense tissue, so they are not the easiest things to read.  SO I went into the appointment just wanting a disc with my 2007, 2009 and 2010 images on it to take to Dr. Surgeon, breast specialist, when I go see her on July 1.  That was accomplished.  I was not nervous.  I didn’t loose sleep the night before.  I just went in like I was getting an x-ray on my ankle or something.  The very kind technologist knew my story.  I really appreciated that.  (My 10th grade spanish teacher would have said “PUNTO!”)  She asked if there was anything to screen on the left side.  I laughed and stuck out my chest like a prancing pony, very proud of the neat and very flat area where my left breast used to be.  Apparently some post mastectomy people have tissue left that is squishable.

So if you’ve never been to a mammogram it’s really something.  All the techs I’ve ever had have been really good at what they do.  Now there are markers on the press to line things up nicely for the digital imaging.  For some reason every time I go for mammograms, the woman before me got to have the BIG paddles.  They always get replaced with the smaller ones for me. 🙂

BTW: I saw a funny card that said something like “if women ruled the world” and it had a picture of a female doctor standing next to a mammogram machine.  The squisher was down at groin level and there was a man in a johnny trembling next to it. 

So here’s how it went:

Tech: Wow, you’re tall, let me raise the platform up a  bit.

Me: (I’m not really that tall, you know.) Yea, so I’ve been told.

Tech:  Position your feet facing the rig, relax your shoulder as I position your breast just right.  Can you lean in toward the machine (read: ‘squisher’)  a little more so I can get all the tissue and muscle?  Right arm up here, ok?  Can you square your shoulders and step your feet back a little so you are leaning in?  Turn your head, ok?  Here comes the scraaaaaaaape along your chest wall.  Sorry about that.  Just want to get as much as I can. 

Me: (leave the ribs out of it, ok?) Yea, I can appreciate that.  (ooooooowwwww!)

Tech:  I’ll just go back here and take the image…oh, why isn’t the machine taking the picture? Let me see.

Me: (the longest squish on record, I bet…it’s actually hard to breathe in this position) (I’m invisioning that I’m having the first mastectomy performed on the mammogram machine today… just cut off all circulation, sort of like what they do to little lamb cojones by tying them off and letting them drop…)

Tech: Are you ok? It’ll just be a sec.

Me: (straining) Yeh, sure, I can do this.  Gravity wasn’t doing a very good job at helping the migration of this thing, so this should help.

Tech: That was really funny.  There, it will release in a sec.

She pivots the machine so it can squish in a semi verticle position too.  The images were good. 

I am in what is called a ‘diagnostic’ catagory now for 5 years.  That means I get to wait while the radiologist grabs the hot potato and looks at the images for a diagnosis.  She came back in less than 5 minutes with the good news.  I had to wait longer to get the images on disc than the entire procedure.  THAT’s what I came for.  SO it sits on my bureau awaiting my trip on Thursday, next.  The reconnaissance mission continues.