I walked

Today, I walked in honor of those who have fought this awful disease and lost.

Today, I walked in support of my dear, sweet friend, Leanne, who's faith never.  ever.  waivers.  as she fights for her life.

Today, I walked in solidarity with the other pink shirted survivors in the crowd.

Today, I walked in gratitude for my family & friends.

Today, I walked in celebration of my wild & precious life.  

 

 Today, I walked.

Red Umbrella-Wavering

I try, with this blog, to hold myself to my blog promises.  To follow up with posts that I say I will write soon.  I made one of those promises to myself and to you with regard to my surgery and a post-surgery update.  It isn't easy to put it all into words, the highs and the lows, the elation and the fears, the known and the unknown.  It's taken far too long to sit down in front of the computer to put it into words.  I need to get this post behind me.  

Where to start...

The surgery was deemed a success.  My breast tissue was removed.  The old scar from my lumpectomy was excised.  To see if the cancer had spread, my sentinel lymph nodes (the first one out from each breast) were removed along with several more on my left and cancerous side.  As I opted for reconstruction, expanders were placed under my pectoral muscles in preparation for stretching muscle and skin to accommodate permanent implants down the road.  

The pain is not nearly as bad as I anticipated.  I braced myself for the worst.  It was tolerable right from the get-go.  That was a pleasant and very welcome surprise.

What was not pleasant or welcome was the recurrence of cancer in the original site.  A 6 cm mass was found, and while not solid cancer, it was back.  Yes, lumps had reappeared both during chemo and in the months that followed.  Each time, radiologists examined the lumps and declared them benign.  

I still feel sick at the thought of WM and my parents being ushered from the waiting room into a consultation room, my surgeon ready to deliver the crushing blow.  He knew what was coming.  We'd been here many times before with little Sophie and I, for the first time, was not there to hold his hand and wipe away the tears all the while whispering and crooning, 'It's OK.  We're strong & we'll get through this.'  I am so sorry, Love.  So very sorry.  Since then, there have been scans and consultations and a change in oncologists.  Each time, the plan changes a little bit more. 

The PET scan last week was negative in all the normal places breast cancer would spread to.  However, there was one odd spot that lit up on my neck near my thyroid.  A CT will be done tomorrow to investigate that further.  What could it be?  Well, at this point, that is unknown.  Yes, the aforementioned unknowns...  I have a special loathing for both the 'unknowns' and the 'wait and sees'.  It's a hatred like no other.  

My plastic surgeon feels I'm doing 'remarkably well.'  The incisions are healing as they should be.  He has actually allowed me to lift slightly more than the prescribed 10 pound limit, something that lifts this troubled mama's heart.  It means I can pick up and hold Maxwell on my own.  I return to his office Thursday to have the drains removed and to receive my first fill.  

My oncologist has a new plan, one that involves both systemic and localized treatment.  It begins with 12 weeks of Taxol.  Yes, I'll be back in the infusion suite every Friday from November 9 through January 25.  UGH.  Chemo.  (If there is a plus side to this, it's that my cancer is very fast growing and chemo has been shown to be more effective on the fast growing cancer than on the slow growing cancer.)  The idea behind more chemo is to destroy every last little bit of cancer that could possibly be hiding in my body.  While the PET didn't show any, there could still be micro mets lurking in a dark corner.  This should take care of them.  Following chemo, will be radiation to target the area that was specifically affected.  And, as my cancer is hormone fed (estrogen positive), measures will be taken to suppress my estrogen production.  Let's not feed the beast, right?  Tamoxifen will be prescribed.  Perhaps there will be shots given to shut down my ovaries.  Perhaps they will be removed altogether.  That part of the plan has not been settled upon yet.

My boobs.  Well, I affectionately call them my Frankenboobs now.  There are three inch wide incisions right in the middle of each one.  They are bloody and covered in steri-strips.  If you think having your nipples show through your shirt is embarrassing, try these.  It looks like I have caterpillars in my bra.  No joke.  One day, I will show you.  Yes, I feel it is important.  Look at The Scar Project.  Please click on those words.  Yes, click on over to that link.  Just don't forget to come back and finish reading my post.

That's the why and the how.  

I waver between fierce determination that I can do this again and that we'll get it right this time and wondering who I pissed off or why our family can't seem to catch a break.  I hug my kids a little tighter and kiss them with even more frequency.  My patience has grown and my temper diminished.  I am slowly learning that it is OK to let others do things for me. It is humbling to accept help.  I have a new appreciation for WM and my parents who have taken up residence in our guest room with the intention of staying until Thanksgiving maybe longer.  They help with everything.  I hardly lift a finger.  I am blessed by friends, dear sweet friends, who have filled our freezer with meal after meal, who spend the afternoon loving on my kids so I can go to the doctor, who answer the phone before the first ring ends with 'What can I do for you?' rather than a simple hello.  And the prayers and some not so kind words that have been offered up to Him, they bring me peace and fill my heart to its very brim.  Yes, there are a few who have been shouting just as much as they've been praying.  Keep it up.  Please.

Just before my surgery, we spent an afternoon with Mandy Birdwell, a very talented local photographer.  For the first time EVER we had professional photos taken of us.  She did an amazing job capturing the essence of our family.  I obsessively checked my inbox from the minute I got home from the hospital, eagerly awaiting the images.  Before our photos were uploaded to her site for viewing, she sent the following video, a reminder that I can carry with me for those moments when my resolve starts to waver.  As I cannot write a post without including at least one photo, here she is in action.  And just below the image is a link to the slideshow she put together.  

Strength Video:  Click Here.

It's pure emotion and I just love it.  

Boob Voyage

In a mad flurry of texts having more to do with The Voice than anything, Kendra innocently asked when we'd be raising a glass to My Girls and wishing them a fond farewell.  Until she broached the subject, I hadn't given it much thought.  Once it was up for discussion though, the Googling began.  What exactly does one do to say boob voyage? 

I came across the blog of another thirty-something who had been down this path.  Yes, some days breast cancer does feel as common as a cold, especially among women of my generation.  While I don't recall whether or not she had her own send off (for the life of me, I cannot find the blog and it's driving me crazy!!), I was inspired, not only by her story but by the foundation she created.  Feel Your Boobies Foundation, a non-profit breast cancer organization, focuses 100% on using media and other unexpected and unconventional methods to spread this life saving message to young women.  Leigh found her lump, not by a traditional breast exam, but by simply feeling her boobies.  That hit home.  I found my lump putting lotion on my body having just taken my daily shower.

I needed to rally my troops.  We needed t-shirts.  We needed drinks.  And chocolate.  

Porter Creek Grill's Banana Ice Cream Cake.  Can you say YUM???

There was an audible groan from many who read my email inviting them to join me for the big send-off as it included the words 'craft project.'  You see, while I thoroughly enjoy my creative endeavors, not all of my girlfriends are like-minded.  Undeterred, they came anyway.

We gathered & made t-shirts that read 'Feel Your Boobies.'  Yes, I stole the idea from the FYBF website.  With more resources and more time at hand, I would have simply ordered all attendees a shirt.  That, however, was not an option.  There were mere days between that initial text and the celebration taking place.  

In case you're curious, I used my Silhouette Cameo to cut heat set vinyl for creating our shirts.   The ironing-on process did not go as smoothly as I would have liked.  We all had to iron our shirts multiple times.  In the end, the result was good.

Even my niece, Haley, ended up with a Feel Your Boobies Shirt.  

Freshly ironed shirts donned, we headed out the door for a few drinks, some tasty bites and more than a few boob related one-liners.  I felt so lucky and so blessed to have my friends come together to support me.  

It felt good to bring a lightness to an event that can weigh so heavily on a person.  I am voluntarily cutting off part of my body in order to save my own life.  That's heavy.  Very heavy.  I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being nervous, to doing the mental countdown to 2:30 on October 25 more times each day than I can count.  I just want to have this behind me.  It's horrid to wish your life away; however, if I could just fast forward a few weeks to the part where I'm mostly recovered from surgery, it'd be great.  

I'd be telling an equally large untruth if I didn't share with you the fact that I. AM. READY.  Let's get this done with.  Let me get on with living.  Me, yes, I've got a whole lot of living to do, and I don't need cancer lingering in the corner like an unwelcome party guest.  

I'll share details of my surgery in a future post.  Some of you have asked some very pointed questions.  I certainly don't mind answering them.  I'm one who prefers to be educated when it comes to medical concerns.  I'm happy to share all that I've learned.  

In the meantime, go feel your boobies.  Come on now, give 'em a good squeeze.  ; )

Red Umbrella-An Update & Too Much Fun

I have yet to figure out how best to communicate health updates with everyone via FreshPicked.  Do I pick a day each week and share the previous week's news?  Do I post updates as things happen?  What to do...what to do...


Today, I'll share what's happened since my last post.  I imagine as time passes and this all really starts to unfold, a routine will sort itself out.  


On the baby front, my numbers are looking good, and I'm feeling great.  Last Monday, my HCG level needed to be 500.  It was 772.  By Thursday, it should have been close to 2000.  It was close enough to my target of 4000 that the labs for this week were cancelled.  Yea!  My progesterone level was a very healthy 26.4.  This is probably all mumbo jumbo to you, but bottom line is that Baby Flynn is doing well.  Very well to date.  Our first ultrasound is scheduled for next week, we'll find out just how many babies are cooking in there and get a more accurate due date.  If you ask Channing, there are FIVE babies in there.  FIVE.  He has five growing in his belly too.  Four Sophies and one Kendra.  


On the cancer front, my genetics tests came back normal.  I am not genetically predisposed to breast cancer nor are any of my sisters.  Hooray!  


I had a visit with Dr. O'Leary this morning.  He confirmed that the wound from my lumpectomy is healing quite well.  The excess tape has been removed, and the stray bits and pieces of the stitches previously poking through my skin have all been trimmed off.  Yea!  My margins were good.  .7 to 1 cm around the invasive cancer.  He did find non-invasive cancer within the margin and advised that if my pregnancy were taken out of the equation, he'd go back in and remove more tissue to get a larger clean margin in that area.  However, between our baby and the long term plan, he feels it is best to leave things alone for now.  If we did nothing, it would dramatically increase my odds of recurrence within the next two years.  We have plans though, big plans, once Baby Flynn arrives.  We did discuss the 'when' part of the plan.  He didn't want to discuss future surgery at all.  I told him I have to know what's coming down the pipeline.  The timing of my next surgery all depends on how my body responds to the chemo and what they find with scans and other tests once Baby Flynn is here.  Only time will tell.  My next appointment is Monday.  Michael & I will meet with my oncologist, Dr. Gesme, to discuss chemotherapy.  


As I'm rereading the above, the voice in my head changes from my own to that of the teacher in any and every Charlie Brown television special, 'wha...wha...wha...'.  Either are truly better than the sound of my actual voice currently.  I can speak in no more than a whisper thanks to this nasty cold that will not go away.  


Channing thought for a minute he found my voice underneath the bed covers this morning, reaching under and pulling out a fist-full of 'something'.  He promptly shoved it into my mouth.  The look of disbelief and disappointment on his face when my voice didn't immediately start to work was priceless.  He patted my cheek, 'It's OK, Mommy.'  Sweet, sweet boy.


He's been having lots of fun as of late with a red umbrella that magically appeared on our doorstep.  I discovered it as we pulled out of the driveway yesterday morning.  It was there, leaning against the door, in the shelter of our porch.  From a distance, it looked like it had a note tied to it.  Closer inspection revealed it did not.  Given the style of the umbrella and the thoughtfulness of the gesture, I had my ideas as to who the mysterious benefactor was.  After a quick email, my suspicion was confirmed.  Maxine!  It was Maxine!!  This beautiful, red umbrella, physical confirmation of the love and support of the friends and family rooting for us in this battle, has become the source of all kinds of crazy fun for Channing.  


It's for hiding.

It's for twirling.

It's for marching.

And because Maxine has a soft spot for Channing in her heart the size of the Grand Canyon, I can also share that it's been used for seeking shelter while peeing.  

These things.  These are the things that are going to lift our hearts and our spirits with joy and with love and get us through the times in the coming months, sure to come, that are filled with fear and fatigue and all sorts of other ickiness.  

As I said before and will continue to say in the days ahead.  Let it rain!

Red Umbrella

In the past week and a half, I have learned two things, two very important and monumental things.  One:  I am pregnant.  This new life that grows within me is too new to be talking about, yet it is already woven so tightly into this story that keeping the news to myself would be like telling a half-truth.  I am barely four weeks pregnant.  I’m sure you’re wondering to yourself why in the world I would share this news so soon.  After miscarrying twins in July, WM & I’d agreed to keep the news quiet and close the next time around.  Well, next time around is here, and you already know.  I.  Am.  Pregnant. 

Not just pregnant, but over the moon with excitement.  That part’s important as you read on.  Very important.

I have breast cancer.  It’s stage II invasive ductal carcinoma to be precise.  What?  How?  Truthfully, I am still reeling a bit from the news and how quickly everything has moved.  In summary, I’ve had two biopsies, one for my breast and one for my lymph nodes.  The first, obviously, did not have the results I would have liked.  The second, came back clean.  Good news as that suggests the cancer has not spread elsewhere in my body.

I had a lumpectomy on Thursday.  The cancer was successfully removed.  The margin was large and clean.  Well, for the most part.  There was some non-invasive cancer that appeared a little closer to the edge of the margin than the doctor would have liked.  In the grand scheme of things, it amounts to nothing.

The grand scheme of things?  Well, with being pregnant, it unfolds something like this:

I start with a lumpectomy.  Chemotherapy will begin with my second trimester.  Apparently, you can do chemo when you’re pregnant.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.  Chemo will continue until I’m 32 weeks pregnant.  Baby Flynn is due mid-September.  I am uncertain at this time how close to full-term I will deliver.  Per Doctor O’Leary, my surgeon at the cancer center, ‘once the dust settles’, we will deal with the rest.  That means a double mastectomy and reconstruction. 

Shocked?  You’re not the only one.

I can tell you this with absolute certainty.  I can do this.  It is my goal to do so with dignity and grace.  How do I know I can do this?  I am filled less with fear and more with fierce resolve.  WM is my rock.  This past year has proven that ten times over.  There is no one-NO ONE- I would choose to travel this road with but him.  WC is my reason.  In the early days after losing Sophie, he was my reason for getting out of bed each day.   I do not want to miss out on one second of his wild and precious life.  He is the reason I will fight this disease even on the days when I find that the fight is tougher than I ever imagined.  Our baby is fuel for my fire.  What better motivation than a wee one yet to come into the world?  That, and I have a bitty angel in my corner.  Sophie’s looking out for this mama.  She is indeed. 

I need to share just one last thing.  I don’t like pink.  Ironic isn’t it?  Anything and everything having to do with breast cancer is emblazoned with the color that to me is like nails on a chalk board.  With the exception of one or two shades, pink makes my skin crawl.

Since, the moment, Dr. O’Leary delivered the news, one song has been running through my head over and over and over and over.  Red Umbrella.  Faith Hill.  I begin this battle in conjunction with my own one-woman campaign.  I already made myself a shirt.  I will wear it with great determination.  Please note, pink is distinctly absent from the design.

So let it rain, it’s pourin’ all around me

Let it fall, it aint’ gonna drown me

After all I’m gonna be okay, so let it rain

Faith  Hill