Happy New Year

What a rush of emotion as 2010 grinds to a close. Isn't it crazy how the passage of time changes appearance so greatly, depending on which end of the spectrum you're viewing it through. This time last year,  I couldn't even imagine seeing the end of all this. Now, looking back at it, it somehow doesn't look nearly as foreboding as it did when looking ahead.

Oh, don't get me wrong...it has definitely been a long, difficult year...but, it is amazing how we can make our way through something if we just take one day at a time. You get up in the morning and ask for the strength to get through that day. Then, you put one foot in front of the other and move through it.

We all, on New Years Eve, tend to look back at the year behind us, but I have never been so overwhelmed by the scope of a year as I am by this one. There was plenty of negative, plenty of pain, plenty of scary, but also plenty of positive and plenty of just comfortably good experiences as well. I discovered a strength I never realized I had. I discovered a closeness of family and friends that I had never taken the time to enjoy. And, I experienced a realignment of priorities which I expect to last through the remainder of my life. I have an acceptance of who I am and a comfort in my own skin that I don't believe I've ever had before. So, as I toast the end of 2010 tonight, it will certainly be with a sigh of relief and a measure of joy, but it will not be with any kind of hard or negative feelings. Yes, 2010 will always be the year that was colored by cancer, but it was a year that was good to me on so many levels as well.

After all, I remember one year ago, refusing to go to bed before midnight no matter how tired I felt, just in case it ended up being my last New Years Eve. I wanted to experience it to the fullest. But, here I am, preparing to toast another new year, and all the better for my experiences of the last.

Hope you're all having a safe, sane and happy New Year's Eve and that 2011 brings you the best of everything. Happy New Year everyone!

Later.

The Gift

And just like that...the house is empty. Just the two of us rattling around. But it was wonderful and now we have the memories to take us back whenever we choose to revisit the holiday.

I have to tell you this story. I don't believe I have ever, in my entire life, received a gift that made me cry...until this year. If you are a regular reader, you may remember that last summer I had a volatile reaction to a bug bite and ended up in the emergency room having my wedding rings cut off. They were MANGLED, totally, and when I brought them home I tossed them in a bowl and basically forgot about them. I had trouble believing that they could ever be repaired. But, Ken took them to a jeweler who put them back together and you honestly cannot tell that they were ever cut. He wrapped them up and gave them to me for Christmas. I literally cried when I opened it. I can't believe I have them back. I wore those rings for 40 years and it was devasting to me when I thought they were destroyed. Now, I just have to get them sized and they will once again be back on my finger.

My white counts got the best of me over the weekend. I had been working around rampant viruses for several weeks so was not really surprised when, on Christmas Eve, I myself came down with it. I didn't feel well on Christmas Eve but felt even worse on Christmas Day. Fortunately I have learned to roll with these types of things over the past year so was able to just defer to my wonderful family to take care of things so I was able to just sit back and enjoy. Feel a bit better today but have a wracking cough.

Didn't address the results of my cancer center appointment the other day because I just wanted to focus on Christmas. Now, I have to face the fact that due to an additional weight loss Dr. D. is moving forward with ordering several additional diagnostic tests this week and has contacted Dr. Hartje to schedule a colonoscopy as soon as possible. I got on the scale yesterday after being so sick for several days, assuming I had probably lost a couple more but was blown away to discover that I was down nine pounds since my appointment on Thursday. High on my list - gain that weight back before Dr. D. finds out. He is also scheduling a MUGA scan to check again on my heart function. Guess it's all back to reality now. My reality, anyway.

But, as I said, when things start getting tough, I can always transport myself back to Christmas, 2010, with the whole family sitting together in our living room. Like my ring, the circle was not broken this year. I will treasure that forever.

Later.

Living With Cancer - Christmas

Today was the day - another treatment at the Cancer Center. Kelli went with me, just as she did one year ago when I had my first treatment. In honor of the holiday and my one year treatment anniversary, I took plates full of Christmas goodies to share with Dr. D. and the wonderful Cancer Center staff. (Thanks to Mums Kitchen - a big shout out to Marilyn Clifford for providing me with the cookies to share). It was so crowded and had such a long wait. We were there for 5 hours. Guess cancer doesn't take a holiday break.

As they "plugged me in" to my drugs, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my heated recliner (that's right, I said heated. They've always offered you warmed blankets which are awesome, but they cool down really quickly. Recently they got all new heated recliners in the chemo circle - a godsend for people like me who are always freezing). I heard a train whistle - something I've heard so many times in the past year since it runs right outside the window of the chemo room - and it brought to mind just how much a part of my life the Cancer Center and Cancer have become. I have watched a full circle of changing seasons through that window. The big Christmas snow storm was just rearing its ugly head when I received my first infusion last December and the snow stayed piled up outside that window for months to come. What a relief it was to finally see the trees and flowers bud and bloom when spring arrived, followed by the heat and vivid colors of summer. They really do a great job of landscaping around that building. Then, seems like just the other day I sat there watching the leaves fall from the trees, lamenting the fact that the snow and cold could not be far behind. And, here it is - and, so am I. Still hooked up to an infusion pump and still staring out the same window. This is my life now and I have learned over the many months how to live with it. But, it doesn't define who I am.

When my treatment ended and I got up from my warm recliner, I thought about that and I thought about Christmas and I thought about writing a poem. I do that occasionally (one of those little known facts about Cathy Stueve).

Life With Cancer - Christmas

How determined the days have passed...

some painful, some blessed, some a blur.

Methodically reckoned, the seasons of life

come full circle and thus reassure.

It's Christmas again. One full year of my life

has been spent looking out through this glass.

Each phase of the treatment, with it's challenge and strife

summoned promise that this too shall pass.

Now, with so much behind me, I've come to reflect

on how this has affected and changed me.

As with Christmas it's not just the outward effect,

but the spirit, the essence abstrusely.

The lights, the gifts, trees - all are symbols of Christmas.

But, is that the soul of the season?

Or, is there a message, an abstract description

of a much more significant reason?

It's the joy, it's the love, it's the peace and the promise...

the road map for how we should live.

Not the outwardly marketed glitz - yes, it's fun...

just as long as it's kept in perspective.

It's the same with my new life - it's how I am viewed.

Some see just my hair or my size.

But, there's so much more. It's my spirit renewed.

Like the meaning of Christmas implies.

I'm joyful, I'm thankful, I laugh and I love

I'm not just breast cancer defined.

I've found hope, I've found peace, I've found light from above.

The old me is now left behind.

It will soon be a new year and I pray that it will be a good one - for me and for all of you. Thanks for being there for me during this long year. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Later.

Blogiversary?

Is there such a thing?

Well, I have officially now been blogging for one year. I set it up and began blogging as I prepared to begin my long chemo journey. My first treatment was on 12/22/09 and I was scared to death. I had watched my Dad suffer through chemo years ago and it was my fervent hope that I would never have to go through that. But, in life, we play the hand we're dealt, and, as it turned out, that was to be mine. It is probably a good thing that, at that point, I had no idea what all 2010 would hold. It was enough to just put one foot in front of the other and take care of whatever that day would bring. Anything more would have been information overload. I think about all the bends in that tunnel that I have made my way through and wonder if the Christmas lights in front of me could possibly be the first real glimpse of light at the end of that tunnel.

I think about those I know who are either just beginning their cancer journey or are in the midst of trying to feel their way through those devastating bends in the tunnel...the uncertainty, the agonizing waits for test results and information, questions regarding treatment options. My heart goes out to them at any time but especially at Christmas.

I have labs, exam and treatment on Thursday and then plan to put cancer behind me for a few days and enjoy the holiday. Will try to post briefly on Thursday.

Later.

Christmas Miracle

The forecast for the mountains of Colorado..

URGENT - WINTER WEATHER MESSAGE


NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE GRAND JUNCTION CO

128 PM MST MON DEC 20 2010

...MAJOR WINTER STORM WILL BRING VERY HEAVY HEAVY SNOWFALL TO

EASTERN UTAH AND WESTERN COLORADO ABOVE 9000 FEET THROUGH

THURSDAY...

HEAVY SNOWFALL OF EPIC PROPORTIONS WILL CONTINUE AND PROJECTIONS

INDICATE THAT THE STORM WILL LAST THROUGH THURSDAY.
POTENTIAL IMPACTS INCLUDE EXTENDED PERIODS OF ROAD CLOSURES...

INCLUDING PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ROADS.
ACCUMULATIONS  MAY REACH AS HIGH AS 6 TO 8 FEET BY THURSDAY AFTERNOON.

Looks like we may need a Christmas miracle to get the entire family together for Christmas this year.

Later.

Life in the Christmas Lane

Wow...what a full week-end...full of Christmas activities.

Started out with our company Christmas Party on Friday evening. It was very nice and we had a great time. It was especially meaningful to me because last year I was just beginning my chemo journey and didn't attend. That was the only one I had missed in 22 years.

Saturday I really wanted to tick a bunch of things off my "Getting Ready" list. I didn't accomplish all that I had hoped, but I didn't let it bother me or stress me out. I just did the best I could with the energy I had. I did venture out to the Mall...bad decision for someone whose tank is running on empty. What a lot of energy that took. But, it really didn't bother me. I just remembered that last year I was unable to do it at all and tried to "enjoy" the experience. Then, I got started on my wrapping. That is always such a big job but one that I have always enjoyed. Love finding the perfect wrap and the ribbon that looks good with it. I'm big on color schemes so that everything looks awesome sitting under the tree. This year I'm doing teal and silver to match the room decor. It's metallic and looks very festive.

I wanted to get some cookies made but ran out of time and energy. Ken did make one batch and also took care of mundane things like laundry so I could focus on holiday stuff.

This morning I had to drag myself out of bed I was so tired. But, I had decided that no matter how tired I was and how much I felt I had to do, I wanted to go to church. It was the Sunday School Christmas program. I went and was really glad I did. A big shoutout to my nephew Drew. You did a fabulous job on your solo young man. I was so proud of you. And, of course, Emma was "the bomb" as usual. Looked beautiful as ever and did such a great job. Seems like just yesterday that our kids were in that group wearing some of those same costumes.

Pastor John, in his message today, reminded people that they need to pause the busy treadmill of life and once again take the time to see Christmas through the eyes of a child. (Actually, that is a paraphrase, not his exact words - can't remember exactly how he said it but you get the idea. Sorry, John. Hope I didn't butcher it too badly.)  Great advice.

After church, I made dinner for Michelle and the grandkids and then went out to East for my grandsons basketball game.  Came home and did a little more wrapping and finished off the busy weekend with a drive through the Living Nativity. A truly jam packed weekend...for me, anyway, but very satisfying. Just a few more days and the kids will be here.

Chemo on Thursday. I guess he has ordered several new blood workups for that day as well so, hopefully, I will "pass" those tests. Hoping my white counts have gone back up. We'll see.

Enjoy the rest of these days leading up to Christmas. My wish for all of you is a very blessed Christmas and a wonderful New Year.

Ready For the Kids!

Finally did it yesterday. Ken had dragged the tree up from the basement a week ago and it was still setting, undecorated, in the living room as of yesterday morning. But, the big blizzard must have motivated me. It took basically the entire day, but I did get the tree decorated and the two of us put up the rest of the decorations. It looks awesome. Just had to share some pics.

But, it really makes me pensive as well. In some ways, Christmas 2009 seems like a big blur. In other ways, it is amazingly etched in my mind. The thing I remember most is wondering if it would be my last Christmas on earth and wanting to make it unforgettable in case it was. Now...before you start telling me to stop thinking like that, I just have to say, why not think like that? Do any of us really know which Christmas may be our last? Of course not. It's just that when you are newly diagnosed with cancer, you are more likely to consider that possibility. My dad was diagnosed with cancer just before Christmas, 1994. He passed away in August of 1995. That had turned out to be his last Christmas. Did Elizabeth Edwards wonder last Christmas if she would see another? Her memorial service was held yesterday...just weeks before Christmas.

So, I'm all about celebrating Christmas and all of life's other milestones as if it is my last. And, when it turns out that it wasn't my last...I'll celebrate that too. I am SO happy to be looking forward to Christmas with all of my kids here. Last Christmas I had to take anti-nausea meds every couple of hours just to keep from getting sick. Last Christmas I was unable to attend Christmas Eve services for the first time that I remember. As it turned out, there was a major blizzard and Christmas Eve services were cancelled. For whatever reason, it made it easier knowing that no one else was able to go either.

But, in spite of everything, Kelli and Brett were here, Michelle and the grandkids, Ken and I and we had a great Christmas. We really did. But, this year we are looking forward to having Matt and Sara here as well. And, I'm not sick. And, the house now looks festive. And the shopping? Well, it will get done.

 

Christmas is coming and so is the family. Bring it on!

Later.

Back to Realty!!

Received an email the other day from the dietician at the Cancer Center. It was information on an exercise class for Cancer patients. I need this. However, not sure I want to make the commitment.

Hmmm.  In the past year, I have completely lost all muscle tone. I have no strength whatsoever. I remember one day carrying groceries in after shopping and almost falling backwards going up two deck steps carrying several bags into the house. Couldn't support the weight.

I've been told that taking this class would help stimulate my appetite and help to deal with my weight loss issue.

Understand all that.

Believe all that.

Want to do it.

However... it is two days a week during the heart of winter. I have a HUGE issue committing to anything other than attempting to work full time, because I don't have the energy...I don't have the strength...I don't have the stamina. AND, I hate going out in the cold.  So...I don't commit.

Therefore, as much as I realize I need this class and as much as I would like to do it, I have been sitting on the fence. But, I just happened to catch a comment from Jane Fonda on TV late this afternoon that pretty much pushed me over the edge. I think I am going to commit.

The class starts on January 10 and it starts with a fitness evaluation (oh, great). They tell you to show up in exercise clothes and bring a water bottle. Well, I can handle the water bottle...

I have replaced my work wardrobe three times in recent history, but haven't given much thought to my exercise clothes. :) We'll see.

Later.

Elizabeth Edwards

I admit that last night when I heard the news that Elizabeth Edwards treatments were no longer working and had been discontinued, I was devastated. I hadn't heard any news of her for awhile so was unaware that she was losing the battle. Today, she passed away.

What a blow. She was a fighter and had incredible determination. I remember, several years ago, when they announced that her cancer had returned and was uncurable but would be manageable with treatment. For whatever reason, I took that to mean that she would live a long life but would have to undergo treatments to keep it in check. That was such a short time ago and too soon she's gone. It's a tough pill to swallow.

Yesterday she posted this message on her Facebook page...

“I have been sustained throughout my life by three saving graces -- my family, my friends, and a faith in the power of resilience and hope. These graces have carried me through difficult times and they have brought more joy to the good times than I ever could have imagined. The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that.”

Yes we do.

They are sellling shirts at the Cancer Center right now with the "Fight like a Girl" logo. Elizabeth Edwards did just that. Rest in peace Elizabeth.

Later.

Home at Last

Wow. The Cancer Center was SOOO busy today. I was there for over four hours and then took a couple more to sleep it off when I got home. Just beginning to feel a little more like myself.

Interesting beginning...when I checked in and picked up my lab orders, I found out that my first order of business was to be a chest x-ray. Who knew? Not me. I guess that was just one more diagnostic procedure to attempt to unearth the reason for the unexplained weight loss. Was down a few more today. Dr. D. said the x-ray looked pretty good, though. He is becoming slightly concerned about the continuing low white counts, however. I guess that typically is not the case with the drug that I am currently on. He says we will continue to monitor it and if the numbers continue to stay down or go down further, we may need to do a bone marrow. Somehow, I don't think that is an experience I want to add to my resume.

Tweeted from my Blackberry a couple of times while I was there, just as a diversion. Here is one of them...
"Just had my blood drawn. When they flush your port the smell and taste are AWFUL! Tip: If you forget your mints, don't breathe or swallow. It helps." You're limited to 140 characters in your tweets so that is an interesting challenge.

Ken shot this photo of me just chillin during chemo. It is quite literally the only photo on record of me and my chemo experience.

No major diagnostics scheduled for this month so that is a really good thing. My next infusion is scheduled for 12/23. That is back to Thursday but, in this case, is a good thing, because I really wasn't looking forward to having chemo on Christmas Eve. Interestingly enough, that will be one year, almost to the day, after my very first chemo treatment. It was 12/22/09. What a lot has happened in that year!

Later.

Twitter

I now have a new outlet.

I have been tweeting for United Real Estate Solutions for several months now. I finally decided that I wanted to open a personal Twitter account as well. Unlike many others out there, I won't be trying to solve the problems of the world. I won't even be providing commentary on those problems. Nothing political. Nothing on the state of the economy. I'll leave those topics to the experts and the wanna be's.

My conversations will be random. I'm excited about this. It won't be just about life with cancer. But, there is no escaping the fact that my life is life with cancer. At least for now. So, that will probably always be reflected in my tweets. But it will be more about lifes ups and downs, lifes challenges, lifes joys, lifes sorrows, lifes good, bad and ugly. And, mostly it will be random. It will give me a chance to express those thoughts that may be worth sharing but are not worth the generation of an entire blog post.

Think about it...it's like getting an opportunity to color without having to stay within the lines. It's a chance to be off the wall. It's a diversion...a chance to take my mind off of treatments, off of  throbbing pains in my legs, off of debilitating fatigue and off of endless diagnostic tests.

I invite any of you who are interested to join me in my new conversation. You can find me at @cathystunnel. I'm not ending my blog. Not yet, anyway. Just expanding my horizons. Maybe I'm just moving closer to the day when I finally decide to attempt a book. Don't know. Don't have to know. It's just something I want to do right now.

Friday is Cancer Center day again. One more reason to take my mind off of things for awhile.

Later.

Holidays - Second Time Around

Just like that - Thanksgiving is just a memory and we're quickly moving toward Christmas.

I can't believe that this is now my second holiday season colored by cancer. Thanksgiving week-end was great. Sue and Ron (my sister and brother-in-law from Colorado) were here and we just had a great time. But there were adjustments that I had to make in order to fully enjoy the time, and, in case someone just newly diagnosed, is reading this, I'm going to share some thoughts on the holidays.

Ken and I did host Thanksgiving dinner. It was something I really wanted to do. I always have this mindset that if I just act as though everything is normal, it will be. But try as I might, it isn't. So, yes, we hosted dinner, but it was a joint effort between 5 families. We all cooked, we all helped get it on the table, and we all cleaned up. In spite of that, I was still very tired by the end of the day, but very satisfied and happy. So, moving forward to my second Christmas, here are some of my survival thoughts.

1).  Lower your perception of the perfect holiday. Does it really have to include floors you can eat off of, fresh holiday decor in every room and plates piled high with every type of fancy baked good imaginable? Or is it just as festive and meaningful to put up one Christmas tree (or maybe two), a few candles and a plate with just a few cookies, selected from the "family holiday favorites" list? And, not only that...

2). Since even a scaled down version of the typical holiday preparations can take a lot out of you, take family and friends up on their inevitable invitations to help. Those who love to bake would be happy to share a few cookies with you. Kids and grandkids who love to decorate are bound to be happy to donate a few extra hours to help you out. And, no one will notice a few misplaced dust balls. It is a fact of life that chemo and other medications leave you extremely fatigued and out of energy. Use the energy you have to enjoy the time together rather than using it all up on the preparations.

3).  Shop online. Going to the mall is tough. It's cold. It's crowded. And, it takes considerably more energy than shopping online. This is not a cop out. This is survival. Be glad that it is now an option...a compromise to having someone else do your holiday shopping for you.

4).  By taking my own advice I plan to focus on what the holidays are really all about. It's not about those things that you do not, for the second year in a row, have the energy to do. It is about celebrating the fact that a year ago, newly diagnosed, there was the fear that it might be the last holiday season I would spend with those I love. Now, a year later, I'm still here and feeling so good about that. I'm confident, now, that I will get through this. Next year I will have more energy to do the things I may not be up to now. And, for that, I am so thankful. It's worth this LONG period of treatment, weakness, side effects and fatigue to eradicate this disease from my body. For now, I will just curl up on the couch and enjoy the company of family and friends. I will focus on the real meaning of the holidays. And I will thank God for bringing me through this.

Our kids and grandkids will all be here for Christmas this year and I can't wait. Ken and I will probably do some decorating this week. What a blessing that I have him to help. And with the decorations, holiday correspondence, etc. the excitement will start to build.

I hope you're all looking forward to the holidays as much as I am.

Later.

Thanksgiving

I read a quote today that said

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice.

I couldn't let Thanksgiving pass without thanking all of you who so religiously follow my ramblings on this blog. It has been a long year. So much has happened and I have come so far. I truly thank all of you for being there for me.

And, I wanted to let you all know that Dr. D. called today while I was at work and told Ken that my sonogram was clear. What more could we possibly ask for on this Thanksgiving Eve?

Thank you. Thank you! And, Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Later.

The Wait

Well, no news is good news...or so they say.

Guess we'll find out.

Later.

The Ultrasound

Well...one more thing behind me.

Yesterday afternoon was my scheduled ultrasound at Mercy. It was unlike many of the other diagnostic procedures they've done in that I could watch the screen while they were doing it. That is both good and bad because I had no idea what I was looking at. They, of course, won't tell you anything, so I was just lying there thinking what's that...what are those white spots...what's with the flashes of red and blue...what is this...what is that?

Then, finally she said she was done and disppeared. She reappeared in just a bit with another lady who said she was just going to take a peak. NOW, I'm really thinking what is up? Could be that she saw something that she thought someone else should take a look at, or, it could be that she is new and inexperienced and wasn't getting exactly the views that they needed. I don't know. That is why I couldn't mentally process it last night and didn't write.

But, there is no point in wasting mental energy on something you know nothing about so, for now, I'm just putting it out of my mind and waiting for the results. I've gotten pretty adept at that and we'll know soon enough. Until then, I have Thanksgiving to prepare for.

Later.

The Dentist

It's been hanging over my head for a long time...

I was past due for a dental checkup last October when I was unexpectedly diagnosed with Breast Cancer...a diagnosis which turned my world upside down. That became the focus of everything at that point and thoughts of the dentist were buried beneath other more pressing matters.

When I found out I would be going into an 18 month treatment schedule after surgery, I was told that getting my teeth cleaned during this period was not an option. There was too great a chance of  infection with my low blood counts. So, now a year has passed, putting me WAAAYY behind my dental schedule. Coupled with that is the fact that chemotherapy is extremely hard on your teeth. The chance of developing cavities is greatly increased, largely because of the fact that chemo dries out your mouth (which I can attest to).

So, now that I am on a drug which isn't quite so hard on my white blood counts, I have been thinking about sucking it up and making an appointment. Yesterday, I finally talked myself into it and made the call. I couldn't believe it when she said they could get me in yesterday afternoon. No time to even psych myself up for it. But, I went ahead and took the appointment.

The hygienist told me that they would take x-rays and have the dentist check my teeth very carefully because of the liklihood of damage. I hate having my teeth cleaned...they are super sensitive and having them poke around in there just sets me off. But, I got through it with only minor discomfort.

Then, the dentist came in and very carefully checked every tooth. She did an oral cancer exam and found no signs. YAY! And, the good new, she said, is that you unbelievably, after all you have been through, have no cavities. What? I am blessed!! I left there knowing I did not have a list of work to be done and I do not have to return for several months. Praise the Lord!

Now, if my sonogram on Friday can just go that well...

Later.

Omaha

Sunday night and I am SO tired. It was worth it though.

We needed to take our Acura in to the dealer for some warranty work so that meant a trip to Omaha Saturday. We decided to make it a weekend and take Michelle and Keisha with us. Shopping, shopping. :)  What a shock to find SNOW in Omaha yesterday. But it didn't deter us. We shopped ALL DAY yesterday and for several hours this afternoon. We spent quite a bit of time looking for possible dresses for Kelli and Brett's wedding. What a good time we had just looking, looking, looking and now and then trying something on. We hit our favorite bargain shopping spots as well...TJ Maxx and Marshalls. So, I am tired, yes, but what a great time we had. I treasure family times like this.

When we got home I had a letter from the Cancer Center. They didn't have my next appointment scheduled yet when I left last Thursday, so they mailed the information. Looks like they have me scheduled for an abdominal ultrasound at Mercy on Friday. I'm apprehensive about that but, for now at least, refuse to consider it to be anything more than another blip on the radar screen.

The good news is, they scheduled my next treatment for a Friday. I really appreciate the Friday treatments. It is much easier for me. I'm not sure how I ended up getting bumped back to Friday again but I'm so glad.

So, week-end is over...bring on a new week and whatever it has in store. Make it a good one!

Later.

One More Down

I was afraid this would happen...

4 more pounds down and Dr. D. is again scheduling diagnostic procedures to try to figure it out. When will this ever end?

Made it through the treatment with no real issues except that it just knocks me out. Just woke up, in fact. They have now decreased the dosage due to the fact that I have lost so much weight. They eliminated the steroids today as well. That was a good thing. AND, I got one of the private rooms today. No chemo circle. Celebrate the small stuff!

Later.

The Potato

I pulled a potato out of the bag the other day and was blown away by what I saw. It was a perfect heart shaped potato. (see photo) I just had to smile. What an anomaly. I couldn't bring myself to cut it, so I just set it on the counter and left it there.

Yesterday, after work, Marilyn stopped over for coffee. Knowing that I am scheduled for chemo on Thursday and knowing that Tuesdays and Thursdays are Ken's long days at school, she offered to go to the Cancer Center with me. I had been planning on just driving myself this time, but given the fact that I had a strangely difficult time with my last treatment, I was happy to accept her offer. I hate to have anyone give up the better part of their day to sit there. Ken normally does it and Marilyn has done it before as well. But, it really does help to have someone with you.

After she left, I happened to glance at that potato and it occurred to me that since the heart is a universal symbol of love and caring, this potato was sent as a reminder to me that no matter what challenges I, or any of us, face - whether they are cancer or chemo related or any other of life's challenges that may come our way - they can be dealt with and overcome by leaning on the love of friends, the love of family and the love of God. This love can take many forms - sitting with someone at the Cancer Center or wherever, posting a blog comment, holding someone up in prayer, giving a hug or whatever. Love is all around us - it's offered up for the taking.

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...so faith, hope, love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love."  (from 1 Corinthians 13)

So...chemo tomorrow. A bit apprehensive. Maybe I should take the potato with me.

Later.

Nails, etc.

Before I even start, let me say that I know these things pale in comparison to the fact that I am still alive. I recognize that, I am very aware of that and I celebrate that.

That doesn't change the fact that chemo causes radical changes to your body and your lifestyle and dealing with, adjusting to and accepting these things is not always easy. Today is one of those challenging days.

Several of the chemo drugs I have received can severely damage your nails. Dr. D. told me some time ago to make sure I kept my nails cut short because the chemo does so much damage to your nails that if you happen to catch them on something you can pull your nail off. I have been diligent about that and, so far, still have all of my nails. However, lately, my fingernails have started splitting straight down the middle and then catching on everything. As soon as I notice it, I cut the split part off but I can't seem to keep up with it. I just cut off a couple yesterday -- then noticed this morning that 3 more are split. They're already so short I don't know what else to do. I also have one toenail that is only attached by about 1/4 inch. If anyone has any great ideas, I'm open to them.

Also -- my hair just gets curlier by the day. I've given up trying to slick it down. It won't do that even fresh out of the shower anymore. Someone told me today that I look artsy craftsy - like I belong on sabbatical in Boulder with a backpack slung over my shoulder. Hmmm - guess that would be better than being hooked up to an infusion pump at the Cancer Center receiving more drugs which create more side effects.

The other thing I continue to struggle with is fatigue. Both the Herceptin and the Femara which I'm on right now cause fatigue and that is the biggest stumbling block in my attempt to resume a normal life. It seems to have a cumulative effect and there are days when it is literally a challenge to just get out of bed.

In the end, this too shall pass. I know that. In the meantime, I'll just keep struggling on days like this and do my best to stay focussed. I'm not complaining -- I'm just saying...

Later.

Stay Focussed

Feeling a little down this afternoon. I think it may be the realization that this is my treatment week again - already.

I really long for the day when this is behind me. It is such an intrusion into your life to have to schedule around constant doctor's appointments and especially chemo day. It is such a long day. But, I have to remind myself to stay focussed on the straight shot to the light. The good news is, after Thursday's appointment I should be able to go back to just seeing the doctor every three weeks. I have had so many extra appointments, exams, diagnostic procedures, etc. the last couple of months. But, I have ticked off all of them now, so it is Thursday and then not again until early December. Thursday they are supposed to do the thyroid workup but I expect that to be OK in which case I will not have to see the endocrinologist again until next October. I even have my appointment set. October 21, 2011. :)

So, upward and onward. That's the only way to get there.

Later.

Amelia

I'm still thinking about the movie Amelia. I really enjoyed it. I couldn't help but think about my parents as I was watching it. Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. She did this in 1932. My Mom was 9 years old then. Younger than Earhart, obviously, but still close enough to that generation to make me think of her when watching the people in the movie.

And, in thinking of her, it occurred to me...I really wish I could have the opportunity to talk to my Mom about her experience with breast cancer. Funny I've never thought about that before. But, there is so much I don't know. I should know these things, but I don't. How did she happen to be diagnosed? Was it just a routine exam like me, or did she suspect it and schedule an appointment?

Her cancer was diagnosed 22 years before mine, so things were different then. She had a mastectomy but I wonder if she had other options and just elected to do that. She was more fortunate than I in that after surgery she went on Tamoxifen for 5 years but did not have to undergo any other treatments. No chemo...no radiation. However, she was also beginning to exhibit symptoms of Alzheimers at the same time...the disease that would eventually claim her life.

I want to pour a couple of cups of coffee, sit down face to face and talk about how she processed it...how she dealt with it...and how she felt. I really, really feel like I want to do that.

Unfortunately, I can't.

Later

The Surgery

Tomorrow is November 2, 2010. It's election day and it's also exactly one year since the day I had my first cancer surgery.

We watched the movie, Amelia, the other night. It was good. We liked it, anyway. I admired Amelia Earhart's fortitude and tenacity in an era when that was far less acceptable for a woman than it is today. At one point, after her first transatlantic flight, she was writing in her journal. (Today she'd be blogging, right?) Her entry indicated that the two questions she was asked most often were     1). What did you wear? and 2). What next?

This (as so many things do) triggered memories of my experiences a year ago. I debated whether or not I even wanted to blog about this because it is still extremely difficult for me to process some of the experiences and even more difficult to talk about them. But there are just some things that should not have happened and without going into great detail, I just need to share them. 1).  What did you wear?

One year ago tomorrow, I checked into Same Day Surgery at Mercy. The nurse who checked me in led us to a cubicle where she tossed one of their beautiful hospital gowns onto a chair and said "Take everything off and put this on" - then threw back her head and let out a big belly laugh. I immediately felt the tears sting my eyes. I was an emotional wreck anyway, given the situation, and could have really used some empathy at that point. But she laughed...loudly. She walked out then and I said to Ken, "Why would she laugh? What was she thinking? What's funny about this?" That should never have happened. How inappropriate and insensitive.

I changed and almost immediately the pace picked up. It seemed like there were people everywhere in that little cubicle. Ken was sitting next to me. Pastor John was there. Someone was trying to start an IV and someone else wanted to know why the EKG electrodes hadn't been brought in. A tech from radiology showed up looking for the "needle loc." Can you believe it? The "needle loc." That was me. Apparently it's OK to substitute your procedure for your name. I thought about telling her my name was Cathy, not needle loc, but didn't. She was obviously annoyed as it was that I was not ready to go and didn't try to hide the annoyance. Doesn't seem like this should have happened either.

Once I got downstairs where they would do the needle loc and other pre-surgery preps, I really discovered how much fun this wasn't going to be. I can accept the fact that current medical procedures just are what they are. Someday, hopefully, they will make strides in how things are done, but, for now, these things just are painful to say the least. What should be changed immediately, however, is the insensitivity of some to what the breast cancer patient, or any patient, is feeling and going through. The radiologist had a student or intern or whatever with him and this young man was actually cracking jokes in the procedure room. Really? There's a time and a place for everything and that wasn't it. Prior to injecting the dye, the radiologist was explaining the procedure and placed my right arm at my side. His exact words were "I'm placing your arm here and I don't want you to move until I'm done. Don't try to help me - don't try to hit me." I closed my eyes at that point and didn't open them again until they finished what they needed to do and I was once again taking a gurney ride...this time to surgery. Ken was standing out in the hallway and all I could say to him was "This is some fun place."

All too soon the doors to the OR swung open and Ken could no longer walk beside me. I again struggled to fight back tears as we said goodbye.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My same day surgery ended up being a two night stay, at the end of which I went home to recover and wonder about my own answer to question #2, what's next?

Now, don't get me wrong. The surgeon, anesthesiology staff, nurses, techs, etc. from that point on were all great. They were caring, knowledgeable individuals who made the surgery and recovery experiences as comfortable as possible. The part that haunts me is all of the insensitivity I experienced prior to surgery. It should have never happened. I know that someone, somewhere, is having trouble sleeping tonight because she is just beginning her breast cancer journey and is facing surgery tomorrow morning. I just pray that she will not have to deal with thoughtless individuals who are so desensitized to the everyday situations that go on in the hospital that they forget they are dealing with people...people who are going through a very emotional, very scary, very life-changing experience and who could really use a smile, a pat on the hand or a kind word. You can bet that if I some day find myself face to face with someone who is in a position to do something about situations like this, I will relive this experience one more time and beg them to offer sensitivity training or something as a reminder to all who work with patients. We've come a long way baby, but there's still room for improvement. You know, I just read yesterday that in the 1880s, women having mastectomies weren't even given anesthesia. Yes, we've come a long way!

Later.

Update

Just a quick update to let you know that Dr. D. just called to tell me the mammogram was OK. Was a bit surprised to get a call at 8:30 pm but I'm guessing that since I just got the report from Mercy today he did too. He was surprised to hear that the endocrinologist doesn't think the weight loss is thyroid related so now he is back to being concerned about what is causing it. But I'm not, so we'll just see how it goes.

Later.

100

Just noticed...this is my 100th post this year. Wow. And you're still reading? :)

Had my appointment with the endocrinologist this afternoon. He doesn't think the weight loss is thyroid related. He is ordering a blood workup just to be on the safe side, so we'll see. If it isn't, I don't have to see him again until 10/26/2011.  Whoa! He also checked the lump I found in my neck. He says it is just a swollen gland. Nothing he is concerned about.  Looks like things have finally turned around. No more bends in that tunnel. Just a straight shot toward the light. By mid-March, spring will be making its debut again and I will be finishing chemo and stepping out into the warmth of that light. Maybe even heading to the ocean.

Still haven't gotten a call from Dr. D. with the results of the mammogram. Sure glad I already know what the results are. I even received a report in the mail from Mercy today saying it was normal.

Loving the road I'm on.

Later.

Lemons

On this incredibly dreary, windy day, just thought I would share a day brightener with you. These are on my desk, sent by Matt and Sara in honor of my Cancerversary. They said they thought of me because I had done such a good job of turning lemons into lemonade over the past year. See the little lemons in the vase? Cute, huh.

Have a great day. I plan to. :)

Later.

The Call

I stood in the shower for the longest time this morning, with the water cranked up as hot as it would go. I was hoping it would thaw out the chill of apprehension I was feeling. I was scheduled for my one year mammogram at 11AM at Mercy.

It was such a feeling of deja vu when I walked in that room. I even had the same tech I had a year ago. She talked about how much had changed in a year's time. She even had to feel my fuzzy head. Then we just got it over with.

Unheard of. Usually even if you ask they won't tip their hand on what they see. She volunteered. She said the doctor would have to read it but from what she could see, if looked good. She even volunteered to call me after the doctor looked at it to tell me what he thought. Can you believe it? I gave her my cell number and within the hour I got a call. The doctor gave me the "all clear". What an unbelievable feeling of relief. And how I thank her for being so sensitive that she would let me know the results even though I know that is a "no no". My results were to have come from Dr. D. but he has yet to call. I doubt that he has even received the results yet. What a long wait that would have been. Technically, I should probably wait until he confirms to celebrate, but I know it's OK. Maybe he'll call tomorrow. Maybe not.

Regardless, the end is in sight.. All clear. Can you even imagine the relief we feel?

Later.

Cancerversary

October 22, 2009

It was just another day - pretty much like every other day - except that I would not be going to work. My new doctor had scheduled some routine tests at Mercy as part of my new patient physical. I emphasize "routine" because that is exactly what they were supposed to be. There were no indications that they would be anything other than that. One of these was a mammogram.

I should have realized something was wrong when they came upstairs to get me about an hour after the mammogram was done.  I was waiting for them to administer the anaesthesia for the next test when they informed me that I needed to go back downstairs for one more picture. Odd, yes, but for whatever reason, it never occurred to me that anything was wrong.

When I returned to 8th floor and the first of 3 people came in to attempt my IV, someone else came in to tell Ken there was someone there to see him. Again, very odd. He left and came back several minutes later. I asked what that was about and he said Dr. Lucke's nurse wanted him to schedule an appointment. What? And still, I ignored the fact that something very unusual was going on which must mean that something was very wrong.

At home later, still very tired from the anaesthesia, I couldn't stay awake. I fell asleep and stayed that way for hours. The next thing I knew, Ken was waking me up. I asked why and that is when I heard the words...
You have breast cancer. We have to be back at Dr. Lucke's office at 4:00 to discuss it.

October 22, 2009 - one year ago today.

I'm reading the book, Promise Me, and in it, Nancy Brinker, founder of Susan G. Komen For the Cure, shared what Betty Ford said to her after her diagnosis...

"Take a day to cry. Get angry. Throw a tantrum. Feel terrible for yourself. Get it all out of your system, then get over it. Get on with it. Get through it."

For some reason, I skipped that first part. I never allowed myself that option. I think that's why now, a year later, I'm struggling with it.



Labor Day, 2009 - Shortly before diagnosis

I had no idea, on that day, just how much I had ahead of me. I had no idea just how difficult this journey was going to be.

Also in the book, Nancy Reagan shared "People are incredibly kind and sympathetic. I can't begin to say how much this means and how helpful it is. Yet, there is a feeling of loneliness when you're in this situation. Not that people aren't supportive - they are. But no one can really know what it's like unless they've traveled this path...each day is different, and you get up, put one foot in front of the other, and go."



Labor Day, 2010 - Nearly 1 year after diagnosis

That's me. Anyone who really knows me knows that is exactly what I did. And, day by day, step by step, I've moved through it. Today, on my cancerversary, I celebrate how far I've come. I celebrate triumph over fear and hope over despair. And I celebrate everyone who has been walking with me on this journey. I still suffer from extreme fatigue, a feeling of bone chilling cold, chemo brain, and a slight neuropathy in the tips of my fingers and toes, but I'm alive - small price to pay.

I'm not sure, technically, if your cancerversary is supposed to be celebrated a year after your diagnosis, or a year after surgery, or a year after you start treatment or what, but hey...I think I'll just celebrate them all. Unfortunately there are many who don't get to celebrate any of these milestones. So, I'm just going to make life one big celebration. Yay me! The party starts now. Going to Des Moines this weekend for a wedding. Kelli and Brett will be there too. So looking forward to it.

Later.

Tomorrow

Chemo tomorrow. Doesn't it seem like a year later you shouldn't still be going through this? Oh, how I long for the day when all of this will be behind me.

Still...in my quiet moments, when I let my thoughts run away with me, I have to admit that I actually fear that day when this is behind me. Why?

For the past year I have seen and been treated by a multitude of doctors. I'm monitored constantly. In looking back at the calendar on which I've recorded all of my appointments, I think there have been more days when I've had medical appointments than days when I haven't. So, I've never really had to think much about whether any cancer still exists or is growing or anything - a little bit when Dr. D. was concerned and ordered all of those tests - but, realistically, I've always felt like that couldn't really happen because they are always poking, sticking, checking, infusing, etc, etc.

However, once that stops, what happens? I read this today...
"Cancer cells are lethal because they proliferate beyond control and refuse to die. This isn't a foreign object in your body; this is YOU, your own biology going so against your nature, it can actually kill you. We all have cancer cells roaming silently through our bodies. They are part of what we are, and they're only dangerous when a genetic mutation allows them to take control."

So, when they're no longer monitoring me constantly, how do I not wake up in the morning wondering if some errant cell decided to mutate overnight, causing the evil cancer to start growing again? It's like walking a tight rope and knowing that someone has removed the safety net.

I physically can't wait to finish treatment, but, mentally, it is beginning to scare me. So, for now, I will go spend yet another day at the Cancer Center tomorrow, and I will do it willingly. Because, for now, as long as I'm doing that, I can rest easy.

Friday is my cancerversary. What can I possibly say about that?

Later.

A Look Back...

I got a card in the mail today and it got me thinking...

Next week will be my cancerversary. Can you believe that? Next Friday it will be one year since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. What a year!! I think I am feeling more emotional and more devastated now, at the one year mark, than I was then. I wonder if this works the same way that grief does. They say that when you lose someone really close to you, if you don't allow yourself to go through the grief process you will just bury it and it will resurface at a later time. I lost a part of me last year...a big part...and I'm not sure that I really did accept all that was happening mentally. Everyone wants you to stay strong. They expect you to stay strong. And, that I did. I still am. But now, it's haunting me.. It is like I can't forget all that has happened. It is all still so clear to me. Some things I can accept. Some things I can't.

I got a card in the mail today and it got me thinking...

I have received literally hundreds of cards in the past year. I still have every one of them. I appreciate so much all of the people who have been there for me through this journey. The "king and queen" of cards has to be Eric and Misty Howard. I'm not sure how many cards I have received from them, just wanting to let me know that they were thinking of me and praying for me. Thanks so much to you guys and to EVERYONE who sent these wonderful cards.

That makes me think about all of the other wonderfully kind people who are a part of my life. My absolute "hugest" bunch of heartfelt thanks has to go to my husband, Ken. I could not have made it through this without him. Not in the grand fashion that I did, anyway. I can't even calculate the number of hours that he spent sitting in waiting rooms with me this past year not to mention keeping vigil by my side in hospital rooms and during chemo treatments. Not only that, but he took over so many tasks that he is not used to doing when I was physically unable to do them. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, etc. etc. He encouraged me, he prayed for me and most of all, he continued to love me through it all. Thank you so much, Ken!!

And then there are other members of my family. My kids...Michelle helped me with any number of things, most notably, hand-picking my surgical team, not once, but twice. She is a surg. tech. so she knew everyone involved in surgery at Mercy and she made sure that I had the best of the best. Matt and Sara made numerous trips home to be with me and checked in often when they were unable to be here. My Granddog, Spencer, even sent me a heavy duty Vail sweatshirt because he was afraid I would be cold last winter. Most recently, they participated in the huge Denver Race for the Cure. Kelli and Brett also did so much. They were here for my first chemo treatment when I was so afraid of what was ahead. They coordinated a raft of gifts to keep me comfortable like lounging clothes, slippers, a cozy blanket to curl up in, soft sheets and the now famous chemo bracelet. The whole family participated in these. And, when I ended up needing a thyroidectomy, Kelli was here for that too. My sisters, Marilyn and Susan, both spent many hours with me, just to offer their love and support. Marilyn sat through a couple of my marathon Cancer Center appointments and chemo when Ken's teaching schedule precluded him from being there. Sue and Ron made the trip back from Colorado several times and were instrumental in forming Cathy's Light Brigade...my team in the Siouxland Komen Race for the Cure.They have all been here for me all the way and I appreciate that so much. I love you all.

Meals...I had so many people offer to help by bringing food. I am going to try my best to remember everyone so that I can publicly thank you here, but if I leave someone out, please know that it is unintentional. It is that annoying chemo brain...second only to the obnoxious chemo curl. Thanks thanks thanks to my sister and brother-in-law, Russ and Marilyn Clifford. I can't begin to remember how many meals they shared with us. Others included Sue and Ron Highstreet, Nicole Packard, Kuen Yeh, Barb Pieper, Adele Sorenson, Allen and Tylene Zevenbergen, Eric and Pam Pfautsch, Steve and Judy Miller, Eric and Misty Howard, Bev and Bob Howard, Judy and John Pehrson, Don and Barb Jorgensen, Geri Ducommen...   I hope I haven't forgotten anyone.

I can't neglect mentioning my staunchest "blog" supporters. Jean Turner, Barb Kimmel and Cindy Backer have been relentless in their encouragement on my blog. Many read but these three also let me know that they are out there and are offering their encouragement no matter what. This feedback has meant and continues to mean so much to me. There are others who email their support when they read the posts and I much appreciate that as well. This started out as a small venture to keep people updated on what was going on. This past month, I had almost 900 visitors to my blog. Can you believe it? I have no idea who they all are. I am just amazed but truly appreciate the support I have received through this as well.

Can't forget my job. So many thanks go out to Sue, Sandy, Joan, Debbie, Jennifer, Fred and Kevin for helping to take up the slack when I was unable to physically be there. And special thanks to Ron McManamy for allowing me to have the VPN Remote Desktop option of continuing my job when I just had no choice but to work from home. I'm back to working full time now, but there were many months when it was just more than I could handle.

The prayers of the people...so many people...priceless.

I know I have forgotten to name someone but if you are that person, please know how much I appreciate and love you as well. When I think of someone I forgot, I will mention them in a future post. I will be offering additional insight into the year just behind me over the next few weeks. It's not the end of my journey, but the light is definitely shining much more brightly today than it was a year ago. Hopefully remembering, reliving and relating will help me to get past this.

Later.

A Matter of Perspective

I went grocery shopping this afternoon and, once again, found myself swimming in a sea of pink. For awhile, I was getting caught up in the outrage of those who claim that companies are taking advantage of a terrible situation and are attempting to profit from it. There are, apparently, some that are doing that while contributing very little to the cause. However, it occurs to me, that it serves no useful purpose to throw out the baby with the bathwater, so to speak. There are companies that are doing a great deal to advance cancer research and cancer research is doing a great deal to increase the survival odds of people like me.

Did you know that the real push for cancer research did not even happen until the 1970s? As a result of these efforts, the odds of a cancer diagnosis not being synonymous with a death sentence today have greatly increased. I, for one, am very grateful for that. And, if the October sea of pink helps to advance that research and raise public awareness of it, I'm all for it.

Another thing that the Komen organization is trying to do is to reduce the sexism compunent in the breast cancer equation. Did you know that Richard Roundtree was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1993 and kept it a secret for 8 years.  Yet, that year, more than 1500 men died of breast cancer. Yes...it is predominately a female cancer, but men do get breast cancer, too. It is important that people realize this and don't ignore the fact. In the decade since Richard Roundtree came forward and admitted that he had breast cancer, the mortality rate for men with the disease has decreased by 25%.

There is good floating in that sea of pink. I know it can be annoying to see the pink packaging on everything from food products to batteries to toilet paper to home appliances, etc, etc. But the heart is in the right place...or maybe I should say the pink ribbon. More and more of us are surviving every year. And that is definitely a good thing.

Later.

There's a light at the end of this tunnel...

shining bright at the end of this tunnel. Please take a moment to listen.

http://www.last.fm/music/Third+Day/_/Tunnel

It was a long day yesterday. We didn't get home until after 5:30. But, it was a good day. The MUGA scan indicated that my heart is actually functioning at a higher level than it was before. 5% higher. That, in spite of the fact that I continue to receive a drug that is known to damage the heart, so that was great news.

The PET scan was clear except for a small cyst in the pelvic area which did not show up as cancerous. So, imagine the collective sighs of relief in that exam room. :)

I lost another 5 pounds which continues to concern him so I have to go see the endocrinologist. I also have to get another mammogram before my next appointment so, guess what. Once again I am waiting to find out when these appointments will be scheduled and they won't put me on the chemo schedule until they have that information. Here we go again. :)

But, no matter. It is what it is and the appointments will be whenever. I want Fridays but if I can't get it, so be it. There is an end in sight now and I couldn't be more excited. We're even beginning preliminary discussions about a beach vacation this spring. This photo from the beach in northern California doesn't really even look like me any more but I love it. This crazy journey I have been on for the past year will end in about 5 months. Looking forward to the next one.

Later.

The Night Before

So, by this time tomorrow, I'll know the answer to the question, has my cancer spread? I guess that kind of makes it D Day, doesn't it? Diagnosis Day, that is. It's been three weeks already since this whole thing started. What a long time to have this hanging over my head. But, I realized tonight that I'm at peace with it, whatever it is.

This on the heels of yet another study on routine mammograms. I have said before that it is my hope that I can use my cancer experience to help others in whatever way I can. I am not a medical professional but I am living, breathing proof that routine mammograms can detect breast cancer that might otherwise go undetected until it is too late. I wholeheartedly recommend that you "go with your gut" on this one and forget all the studies. It's your life and your body and this is a decision to be made by you, number one, and your doctor. If you don't trust your doctor, get a different one.

It was a year ago that I made the long overdue decision to find another doctor. For him to accept you as a patient he requires that you come in for a complete physical. He scheduled a routine mammogram, among other things, although the exam had turned up no indication of possible cancer. The rest is history.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I am not "pro-pink." I am "pro-knowledge is power". If you have never had a mammogram or you are past due for one, please give it your prayerful consideration. It could save your life.

As for me, whether I have 2 years, 20 years or more left, I will be doing what I can to help others who have faced or will be facing a cancer diagnosis. It may be through this blog or through volunteer activities or, who knows, maybe some day I'll write a book. Until cancer is eventually eradicated so that no one else has to go through what I and many others have, it will be my cause.

Once again tomorrow I face labs, exam, chemo, sitting around waiting and, this time, a diagnostic consultation to discuss the results of my recent tests. Yes, by this time tomorrow, I'll know. I will update you.

Later.

Great Memory

I was on the Siouxland Komen site the other day and noticed that they had a link to the video of the Siouxland Race For the Cure. I watched the whole thing and felt some of the same emotions I felt that morning as so many people gathered to walk/run to raise money for breast cancer.

Here is the video...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sDNTNWr9zE

It's kind of long, so if you're pressed for time, I'll tell you that you can catch a glimpse of our team, Cathy's Light Brigade, at approximately 4:45 (look for the bright green shirt and flourescent green sign). You can also catch me crossing the finish line at approximately 7:04. Enjoy.

Later.

First Haircut

I didn't get up thinking that this was going to be another one of those "hair days" but that is what it ended up being.

I decided after my shower that I was going to try to spike it since I have had so many people express the opinion that I should do that. Actually, I did try it awhile back but couldn't get it to stand up so today I used more gel and was a little more successful. But I looked in the mirror and there was my dad staring back at me. SERIOUSLY.

Here's the deal. When I was growing up, my dad wore his hair in a flat top. For those of you too young to know what that is, it was a pretty popular men's hairstyle back in the 50s and 60s. It was cut about an inch long and stood straight up on top. The sides and back were cut short. My dad had a great flat top and his hair was gray. I don't remember his hair ever being any color other than gray. He went gray very young. Anyway, with my hair kind of standing up on top but being too short to spike anywhere else, I swear I am the spitting image of my dad. Couldn't do it. Couldn't wear my hair like my dad. Maybe I'll try it again later when it gets longer...or maybe not.

Then, this afternoon Michelle had a hair appointment so I decided to stop in to get some input from Candace on the unruly way in which my hair is growing in. She was amazed at how thick it is and most of all, how curly it is. Yes it is. She offered to trim it just a bit for me so, totally unexpected, I had my first "post bald" haircut today. She tried 3 different products on it to see if she could get it to lay down but nothing worked. It is totally in to doing its own thing. But, with the trim, it does look a bit less disheveled.

She and Michelle got their kicks making fun of me. I still haven't decided whether or not I like the color so they decided maybe I should try going from silver to copper. Instead of looking like a dime, I could look like a penney. :) Well, THEY thought it was funny. Actually, Candace joined the ranks of those who claim to like the silver look. In her words..."Hey, I wouldn't kid about that. I'm a hair dresser and it's my job to try to get money out of you. But, I like the color as it is." She thinks as slow as it's growing, it will be the first of the year before I could do anything with it anyway. So, guess I don't have to worry about it right now.

OK...the tests. Didn't mention the subject because I'm trying not to focus on it. Everything went OK. Once they got the IV in for the MUGA at Mercy, they decided to leave it in so I wouldn't have to have it done again at the Cancer Center. So, that was good. The PET prep is interesting. They have to test your blood sugar to make sure it is not high enough to fight with the sugar solution they have to inject. They fill several syringes with this radioactive stuff, which, by the way, was my second radiactive high of the day. They draw some blood before the MUGA and then mix it with some sort of radioactive stuff and then reinject it into you. So, anyway, prior to the PET, they bring in this metal box which contains syringes of radioactive glucose or some such thing, and inject it into your IV. You are in a small, dimly lit room which has a big radioactive sign on the door. You sit in a recliner and, in my case, cover up with a couple of blankets. (I am always cold) Once she injects the solution, the tech leaves and you just relax in the dark and quiet room for an hour while this stuff courses through your system. Then she comes bank to get you and starts the picture taking process. I think the table you have to lie on is about 12 inches wide on a good day. I couldn't help but think about how accustomed I had become to lying under massive pieces of heavy technology while they circle the body at very close range and either shoot you with radiation or record views or your insides or whatever the deal of the day happens to be. A year ago, I had never done any of this, ever. Anyway, enough on that. It went OK but I won't know anything until Friday. Must come up with ways to distract my mind until then.

Later.

FINALLY

Well...the appointments are finally confirmed. Now it is just a matter of getting through the anticipation. Friday is the big day. I will have the MUGA scan at Mercy in the morning and the PET/CT scan at the Cancer Center in the afternoon.

In case some of you are not familiar with PET scans, in a nutshell...

*    PET/CT is the most advanced medical imaging technique available today, combining Positron Emmission Tomography with Computed Tomography
*    PET/CT combines the fine structural detail of CT with PET's ability to detect changes in cell function. This combination allows for earlier and more accurate detection of disease than either CT or PET alone.

How Does It Work?

*    Cancer cells grow at a very fast rate.
*    Growing cells use glucose as a primary source of energy. The faster cells grow, the more glucose is consumed.
*    A form of glucose called FDG, which emits particles called positrons, is injected before a PET/CT study is done.
*    The FDG molecules are consumed more in fast-growing cancer cells than in normal cells, resulting in concentrations of FDG, and positrons, in areas of cancer.
*    A PET/CT scanner detects where positrons are being emitted from within a patient and provides images that map the locations
*    PET FDG mapping is combined with a CT image's structural detail in order to identify both the presence of disease and its precise location.

That is what tipped them off to the problem with my Thyroid back in December. It was lit up on the PET scan. The hope is that nothing will be lit up this time. Please, please!! (By the way, the brochure indicates that you should avoid contact with infants and pregnant women for 8 hours after the procedure. Somehow, that is not a very comforting thought)

I have an appointment on Friday, October 1, to find out the results of all the tests and to also have my next chemo treatment. So, while there isn't long to wait for the remaining tests themselves, the wait to find out the results is still pretty foreboding. It will be a long week.

Later.