Surgery date set

I'm having a uni-lateral (that means only 1) mastectomy on Monday, June 18.

One day after my 14th wedding anniversary, by the way. What a way to celebrate, eh?

Here are some details I am going to share because so many people have offered to pray that I want to give them the specifics of the prayer (can't hurt, I'm thinking; I gotta' believe God loves specificity).

Although the atypical cells that are showing up on the mammogram are restricted to a duct (hence the diagnosis 'ductal carcinoma in situ'), the med experts have no idea if this is a new cancer or a re-occurrence of the old one. The profile of the cells from this recent biopsy are identical to the ones from the tumor 10 years ago, but that is not conclusive that it's a re-occurrence. It could just be a new occurrence with the same profile.

It's the best cancer, by the way. Isn't that funny? Not in a ha-ha funny kind of way, I realize, but you get me. If you knew you were going to get breast cancer and could choose the type, this is the type you should choose.

Anyway, at some point during my mastectomy surgery, the surgeon will remove 2-3 lymph nodes and biopsy them. Okay, I realize this is weird, but I LOVE the name of this procedure: a sentinal node biopsy. It conjurs an image of little blobs standing guard with full body armor and little spanish army helmets and swords, fighting off cancer cells in the form of arrows. The analogy breaks down a bit, I realize, as I would think it's difficult to fight off arrows with swords, so as I further develop the image, I see them wearing magic bracelets ala Wonder Woman to deflect those nasty little cancer bullets (instead of arrows because I'm not sure WW ever deflected arrows). That latter part, the Wonder Woman part, is more in keeping with the whole 'breast' part of the cancer, so let's go with that.

Hard to credit this pic: I found it on Google images, traced it to a blog, and then spent about 15 min trying to find the original source. I'm going to assume it's in the public domain. If not, may the copyright owner have mercy on me. 

Anyway, the nodes will be biopsied during surgery, and if they find atypical cells in those nodes, we jump to worst case scenario. Atypical cells there indicate 'invasive' which, of course, indicates cancer. We still wouldn't know if it's the old cancer or a new, but it suddenly occurs to me at this point, who the hell cares?

If the cancer is in the lymph nodes, then the surgeon will remove all the lymph nodes on that side (it's the right side, in case I've never mentioned that, 'cuz you know you'll want to look!), which has the potential long term complication of edema (swelling) of that arm. That alone is a sucky outcome but it gets worse.

I'll probably have to do chemo again. Yuk. The upside to that is that I have been REALLY hating my hair for the past few months so I'll be able to get that radical buzz cut I was so fond of 10 years ago (I'm not kidding here. I LOVED having no hair). The CNP (certified nurse practitioner) told me she can't put a percentage of likelihood on this scenario, but if she had to guess, she'd put it at 10-20%. Let me tell you, though, me and Murphy's law, we're like this:

image retrieved from http://www.designofsignage.com/application/symbol/hands/largesymbols/fingers-crossed.html

So, if you're wanting to pray for me (please!), here's the core of the prayer: no cancer cells in the lymph nodes! Thank you!

In keeping with my effort to find the gratitude (see 1 Thessalonians 5:18), the biggest blessing of all, despite the setback of having to wait 5 weeks (!) for surgery, is that my dear sweet sister-in-law (SIL) E (since Scarlett didn't have any brothers, she had no SILs so I'm just going to go with my SIL's initial E) will be coming down to stay and help out with my post-surgery care and Carmen. Yay!

Also, I'm going to go on a 5-week intense workout regimen. Best to undergo surgery as healthy as possible!

Un--freaking--believable!

I like to think of myself as a calm person....oh, heck, no I am NOT.

I was told at my Tuesday surgery consult that the scheduler would call me the next day (Wed.), but I was free to call her as well. So, at noon on Wed., when I hadn't heard from her yet, I called.

"Oh, I haven't even looked at your orders yet. I'm sure I'll be calling by the end of the week."

Ugh.

Today, at 3:00 p.m., I couldn't take it anymore and called her again. Someone else in the office answered and said I should call her back in 5 min. I called 15 min later (amazed at my fortitude? me too). Same someone else answered. Bless her heart, she put me on hold to find scheduler. Scheduler, bless her heart, said she had all the orders in front of her and would call me back by the end of the day.

4:45! Ring goes the phone. I'm pleasant. It's not her fault. I'm told Monday, May 18. Surgery at 11:30 a.m., injection at 9:30 a.m., be at hospital at 8:30 a.m.

Great! Thanks! Call husband. He cautiously informs me that there is no Monday, May 18.

OH.
MY.
HECK.

I am going to strangle someone! I immediately call back (4:50 p.m.). No answer.

So, I am either having a mastectomy on Monday, June 18 or Friday, May 18. I'm pretty sure my surgeon only does surgeries on Mondays and Wednesdays, so it looks like I have to wait until mid-June. I'm hoping against hope that she meant Monday, May 14. I doubt it.

Again. oh. my. heck.

Upsides to a June surgery (I'm working hard on that gratitude thing):
1. Quarter is over, so no need to freak out over getting coverage for class and how to get grading done.
2. Darling sis-in-law, who will be out of a job come June 1, will be able to come and take care of me and help with Carmen.
3. I have plenty of time to complete projects at work.
4. Might not have to take leave.
5. I could go to my niece's wedding in Houston.

Downsides:
1. I'm teaching a summer distance ed. course; I don't know how this works with leave.
2. I have to wait. If there is undetected invasive cancer, that kind of freaks me out that it's going to be 5.5 weeks before we know that!

#2 counts for, like, 100 downsides.

Okay, I'm going to take a deep breath and maybe go to the temple sometime this weekend. That should help.

And I might start a new sewing project.

During the time between my biopsy order and my biopsy, I was a crazed woman so I made this for my new iPad:

 My friend, Mama Pea, made one and reviewed the pattern and showcased the finished purse on her blog. I searched for patterns for an iPad carrier/purse but the one she found was the least complicated (and I still messed up). The pattern was designed by Julie at Intrepid Thread and shared for free at Cutting Corners College by Riley Blake Designs.

I had a really tough time because the pattern was specific to the Sweet Nothings fabric (Riley Blake designs), and I had a hard time mentally translating. I had to work off the computer screen because the pdf of the pattern was 60 pages long (or 90, I can't remember now) so I wasn't going to print it out, and it didn't occur to me to cut and paste right from the blog site into a Word document. Duh.

Anyway, the screw-ups weren't too bad, and it only cost me about $3 for the hardware, $2 for thread, and $5 for the fusible fleece. I already had the fabric. It did take me about 16 hours to make it, though, because I have such a hard time reading patterns. At my consultant rate of $100/hour, that's a $16,010 iPad purse.

Someone did ask if it was a Wang. Before she got up close.

The problem now is that I bought an Otterbox case for the iPad, so it will no longer fit in the bag.



I knew I was getting the Otterbox, but I didn't think it would be a problem to just take it out of the Otterbox occassionally. I should have read the reviews first. It is nearly impossible to remove the iPad once it's in the Otterbox. And, since my 5-year-old often uses the iPad, I think the durability of the Otterbox wins out over the cuteness of the bag.

What I discovered making the bag was how relaxed I was while sewing even though I had a hard time with the pattern. Given how stressed I was anticipating a painful biopsy (which turned out to be not painful at all), that is saying something.

Hence, I think I'm going to make another bag that the iPad-in-Otterbox will fit into. That might get me through this stressful weekend of waiting to verify when my surgery will actually be. Does anyone want the one pictured?

Thanks again for all your prayers and well-wishes!

AARRRGGHHHH!

I thought I would know today when my surgery is going to be scheduled but apparently, the scheduler will call me tomorrow.

No news is definitely not good news.

So here's what I've been chewing on for the past hour or so.

I have been told by my HR director that, after surgery, I am not allowed to work until the doctor gives the okay that I can return to work. Hence, it is highly likely that I will be on leave during finals week and when grades are due. So I ask you this: Who is going to grade all those end-of-quarter projects and final exams, and then who is going to enter grades?

TTB...Boom!

My ticking time boob (TTB) is no longer ticking.

It sort of exploded. But not really.

Confused? Read on.

First the good news: I don't have cancer.

Now the bad news: I have "atypical" cells, a condition known as ductal carcinoma in situ. For plain folk like you and me, that's something akin to pre-cancer.

It's in the same breast that I had cancer, so radiation is not an option because it's already been irradiated (who knew you couldn't irradiate a breast twice? Not me).

I'm pretty sure chemo is not an option (Hallelujah!). At least it wasn't mentioned this morning when the nurse practitioner (NP) gave me the pathology report. Of course, I wasn't really paying attention after she said the recommended course of treatment for someone who already had the Big C was masectomy.

Huh?

Yes, indeedy-doody, I'm a gonna' have a masectomey. Maybe two. Back when I drank, a double was a good thing. Perhaps that is the case now. I'm not altogether sure, so I will talk to the doc about that option.

By the by, do you have any idea how expensive masectomy bathing suits are?! They really need to do something about that. And right after, they need to be named something else, agreed?

I meet with my surgical oncologist (who, by the way, is totally hot...don't tell Rhett I said that) on Tuesday at 7:30 a.m. (And he's sweet! Coming in early to chat with us - what a guy!) to hear all the options, but the NP said he'll want to do it as soon as possible, hopefully in about 2 weeks. Then about 4 weeks for recovery. At this point, I don't know what "recovery" means. I'm hoping I'll be able to teach out the quarter.

I can't think of anything else at this point to tell you; if I do, I'll post again. Otherwise, check back on the evening of May 1 to read the latest update.

If you're feeling like you want to do something to make me feel better, send me some jokes. Knock ones are especially good, since I can share them with BonnieBlue. Or "what do you get if you cross a _______ with a ___________?" jokes; we love those. Here's our favorite: What do you get if you cross a puppy with a computer? A lapdog!

Oh, one more thing. While I'm not terribly thrilled, I am grateful for this "adventure." I'm not sure why yet, but the Lord has commanded us to be grateful in all things (Eph. 5:20, Mosiah 26:39), and I figure I ought to do my best at obeying since I really have so much else in my life to be grateful for.

Many thanks to you wonderful folks who make me feel better just knowing I am not alone at this time. God bless you all!

TMI?

Most people who know me know that I am not afraid to share just about anything regarding my life.

I have not kept it a secret that I was getting a biopsy today, mostly because verbally processing helps me adjust and adapt. Especially to potentially tragic scenarios.

So, beware, this post may be too much information.

For those special friends and colleagues who prayed for me today and/or who sent good thoughts and energy my way, so far it worked. My biopsy wasn't ANYTHING like the one I had 10 years ago. Ten years ago I had a core biopsy (spring loaded gun shooting into my chest wall; see previous post). Today I had a stereotactic biopsy.

For those who like to stop right here, I'll just tell you this. I left the Breast Center practically euphoric at the lack of pain.  Mind you, I'm not oblivious to the bomb that may drop on my head; it's just that I'm not brooding about it. It is what it is. And I'll find out what it is next week. So, do keep the prayers, and positive thoughts and energy, coming my way. Please.

For those curious about a stereotactice biopsy you can read about it here or read on. I'm about to tell you. AND I have pictures!


First, here's the "gun."

 Picture quality is bad. I forgot my camera and had to use my cell phone. Sorry. But for reference sake, the tech holding that gun is a petite thing. That mama-jammer is big!

It was the results of the two Valium I took that got me on this table. Heavenly Father helped a bit, too, I must admit. I have another picture with my ticking time boob (TTB) hanging through the opening in the table that in this shot you cannot see. I spared you that. You're welcome.

The first thing the radiologist did was shoot some Lidocaine into the TTB. Yay! I little pin-prick, and I felt no pain through the entire process. God bless modern medicine.

There's a modified mammogram machine under the table. It was used to guide the needle for the stereotactic biopsy. Seriously, God bless modern medicine. This was an entirely different process than the core biopsy. I assume they still do those, but thank goodness my little spots made that procedure inappropriate.

After the procedure, they took me into the room with this monster. Those of you who have had your mammograms will recognize Mr. Smasher. Mr. Pancake. Mr. Flatten-Me-Silly. You pick.

That cloth is the sanitizing wipe. This mammo was not like the screening one. This one was just to make sure they could see the little titanium clip ("the size of an eyelash" eveyone kept saying) that they implanted in order to reference it in later mammograms. So I wasn't flattened beyond the threshold that most women find not only excruciating but plain bizarre.

So, if you didn't think there was too much information (TMI) before, how's this?



See the little circle? It's highlighting that little titanium clip.

I am well on my way, I guess, to becoming a cyborg.

I will post again what the outcome of the biopsy is, probably on Wednesday or Thursday.

Thanks again for all your wonderful thoughts, well wishes, prayers, and kind words. It really does help.

Ticking Time Boob

Yeah, I've got one.

One in 8 women have one. Or two.

I had been contemplating giving up my blog because when I do have time to post, I've got nothing interesting to say. And when I have something interesting to say, I'm too busy or I'm fatigued from a sinus infection. I've had 3 since last September, and I feel another coming on.

Anyhoo, I've got something interesting to say, and I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway, so ta-da! New post!

On Thursday, April 18, 2002 I was lying in bed unable to sleep because I was going to interview the next day for the Special Education - ABA doctoral program at a large midwestern university. Out of insomniac boredom, I did a self-exam on my breasts. And found a lump.

The following Monday I made an appt. with my primary care physician's nurse practitioner who did another exam and told me I had nothing to worry about. "It is too mobile to be a tumor" were pretty much her exact words. But she referred me to the Breast Center at same large midwestern university. Two days later I had my first mammogram. I was 38.

Immediately after the mammo, the worried tech completed an ultrasound on my right breast. While I was still lying flat on the table, she called in the radiologist, who took my hand (no kidding), and said, "None of the oncology surgeons are here this afternoon. Promise me you will come back tomorrow." I promised, and I did.

The next day, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Surgery (lumpectomy), chemo, radiation, Tamoxifen. 10 years later (almost to the day), I am a survivor.

About two weeks ago I had my annual mammogram on which 3 suspicous spots appearred. I finally got in to see my surgical oncologist this past Tuesday. He ordered a biopsy, which he couldn't do right then because I had taken ibuprofen within the past 48 hours. I'm getting it Friday, April 20, 2012.

Ah, the symmetery. I love symmetry. Mark Twain once said, "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme." It's been almost 10 years to the day.

Rhett is going with me. I want him to record it for my blog (How cool would that be!? A live core biopsy of a breast!) but there is no way he'll do it. He can be a stick in the mud sometimes. I will try to get a picture of the biopsy gun.

Of everything I've been through, my  memory is that that core biopsy was THE most painful thing I endured, with the possible exception of the 4th chemo round when the nurse couldn't find a vein. Ugh. I want a Valium just thinking about it.

Speaking of Valium. When the nurse practioner told me on Tuesday that my biopsy would be Friday, I exhibited classic drug seeking behavior: I asked for drugs. She--and I'm serious here--she asked me why. Um....because when a hollow needle is thrust into one's chest wall  at a speed roughly equivalent to that of a bullet being discharged from the barrel of a gun, not once, not twice, but three times, it HURTS!

She actually wasn't going to give in, so I told her I wasn't coming in for the biopsy. And then she caved and prescribed TWO Valium. One to take two hours prior and the other a half hour prior. I guess the pain I'm going to feel afterwards isn't ...wait, I guess I won't be feeling any pain afterwards! Booyah! (Lie.)

Here's a thought. If a procedure has no negative side effects, doctors and nurse practioners should have to experience it. Then the perky, fresh-out-of-school (she could not have been older than 27, I swear) NP has the right to tell me 'no' when I ask for drugs. But if that was standard protocol (NPs for cancer docs getting biopsies for "educational purposes"), I wouldn't have to ask. The core biopsy order would be PRECEDED by a prescription for a week's worth of Xanax.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should clarify that I have to have another mammogram right before the core biopsy; my doc said that it's possible that the spots won't show up, and if so, no core biopsy. How cool would that be if I get to take 2 (!) Valium within 2 hours and NOT have to have that hollow needle gun shot into my chest wall! Yay!

Cross your fingers for me!

But, of course, if that happens, I go back in 6 months for another mammo. And then 6 months after that. And so on. And so on.

Ticking time boob.

Horses, In Real Life

Some time ago, I put some of the behaviors of BonnieBlue's that I wanted to improve on a sticker chart and started working with her on them. Stuff like brushing her teeth everyday, going to bed on time, eating at least some of everything on her plate, etc.

She was only 4, and I knew I had too many behaviors on the chart, but I was desperate. These were things that were driving me crazy to the point that I was being a little too unpleasant with her about them.

Here's the chart:

One night, after she brushed her teeth, I pulled out the chart and told her that every time she completed one of the items on the chart, she would get to put a sticker on the chart. Because she had just brushed her teeth, I gave her a sticker and she put it on the chart.

I then told her that after she filled the chart, I would buy her any toy she wanted.

The process went remarkabley well. I underestimated how consisted we would both be and how well she would understand the process. It only took her about a 2 and a half months to fill the chart.

About halfway through that time, we went to Target so I could re-invigorate her enthusiasm. We strolled through the aisles as I told her to pick out the toy that she wanted. I told her I would buy it for her when she filled the sticker chart.

This was what she chose:

 It's 17 inches high.

Here's another picture with it next to a Barbie doll (for perspective).

 It was on sale, so I went back and bought it, put it on a shelf in the garage, and every few days, when BB was resisting the sticker chart, I took her out there to show her. It put her back on track. Eventually, she filled the chart, and we brought it down.

She loves this horse.

At first, it bugged me. Not because it was a horse. I have fostered her horse fetish, as I was horse crazy when I was young. It bugged me that the horse had a mane and tail so long that they dragged on the ground. I often remarked to her that it wasn't a realistic horse, that horses in real life don't have such long hair.

A few weeks after she earned the horse, we took her to the All American Quarter Horse Congress. This is a 3-week event that is all horses all the time, held in Columbus at the Fairgrounds' Celeste Center. We watched an event and walked through the stables and shopped at the vendor fair. She was in horse heaven.

At this event, Rhett picked up a catalog for something that I cannot even remember and I saw a picture that looked a lot like this.

Well, what do you know?! There are horses like this in real life!

It's called a Gypsy Vanner. The breed has a fascinating history and has only been recognized for 16 years. If you enjoy horses, you can find the history here: http://www.gypsyvannerhorsesociety.org/ . Cool. Very cool.

If we ever get a horse, this would be it.

I also like Great Danes. Our horse and dog would match:

I dream big.