Two Years and Counting

So I just had an anniversary.  I've been a cancer survivor for two years now.  I sure don't feel like a survivor.

I'm still being ambushed by complications from the cure.  I'm bleeding every day, and have 3 more surgeries ahead of me.  I'm in pain every day.  I'm in and out of doctors' offices.  The lymphedema in my arm is constant.

I had to stop taking my hormones, and my body isn't getting the estrogen needed for a full head of [albeit still thin and fine] hair.  And the hot flashes.....


Not to mention the continually mounting medical bills.

In 2005 a dear friend of mine was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer and chose not to undergo treatment.  I'm not going to go into all the reasons that went into this decision, but I always supported it.  She passed shortly thereafter, no longer in pain.  God, I miss her.

So this is what survival feels like.  There's got to be a better way.

LGLG

So, here's the thing.  It's been a long time since I started on my cancer treatment.  I am cancer free; and still suffering from complications post radiation therapy.  The doctors in Prescott are thinking I need some reconstructive surgery that will bring some good tissue from another area of my body to the breast which is still bleeding and hopefully stop the bleeding without causing another seroma.  They don't do this type of surgery in Prescott, and it has been suggested I go to Mayo Clinic in Phoenix [they don't participate with my insurance BTW].  I heard some good things about Mayo so I made an appointment.

This morning I spoke with someone from the Arizona Institute for Breast Health [www.aibh.org] where I got my [free] second opinion before my mastectomy in 2010.  I was given the name of a plastic surgeon on their board who is in Scottsdale, and he was highly recommended.  [Funny, the other day I was online checking out their board members online and really got a good feeling about this doc.]  So I called and made an appointment for July 5 [and, hurray, they take my insurance] and canceled my appointment with Mayo.

I've been concerned about the possibility of another major surgery.  But I feel confident I'm going to see the right doctor and whatever decision is made will be the best. 

So I'm going to take a deep breath and Let Go and Let God!

 

A Man Named Martin

The first time I saw Martin at karaoke I remember thinking how strange this man was.  When he sang, he would kneel, or do air guitar, march, and use all sorts of gestures acting out the song.  I'm ashamed to say it took a very long time for me to realize Martin was singing with passion, and by singing with passion he put everything into it without fear of how anyone else would feel about it.  And by doing this he really, really enjoyed, and lived, the song.

As I got to know Martin personally, I realized that he was a man of passion in all walks of his life.  Sad to say, it's a hard thing to find nowadays.  Everyone is so afraid of showing how they feel, they cut themselves off from really truly living.  And, in life, that's where the real love is.  Even when it hurts.

Now Martin is marching with the saints in rock-and-roll heaven with a big karaoke audience who don't think he's strange.  He can see the big screen with his perfect vision.  When he's doing air guitar [or drum, or sax, etc], a host of angelic musicians are playing along [Jimi, Stevie Ray, John Bonham, to name a few].  When he's gesturing, he's leading a choirs of angels [Janice, Michael, Jim Morrison, ....].  And when he's kneeling [without pain], he's praising the Lord, with all of his heart and soul.

I hope my karaoke friends will dedicate a song to Martin -- and SING YOUR HEART OUT!

You will not be forgotten, my passionate friend.

How Many Teardrops

How many teardrops can one person shed?  [96Tears]  I thought I'd cried as many as one could possibly, but....

Watched a fun video today from The Breast Cancer Site Shake Your Booty for Breast Cancer Awareness and started sobbing.

 I cried for all the physical pain I've endured.  I cried for all the things that didn't go right.  I cried for the time lost. And I cried just because.

I also cried for everyone else who has gone through this and for those that will be going through this in the future.  And I cried for those that didn't complete the journey.

So how many teardrops can one person shed?  An infinite amount!
 

Who Am I?

Who am I?  Who is this person I've become?

This journey has been fraught with a multitude of twists and turns and ups and downs.  I've been forced to look deep within myself to find strength, patience, and grace.  In my darkness I realized that all of this comes from the Divine, and this relationship became stronger than ever. 

Situations arose that brought many negative and ugly aspects of  me to the surface [gosh I hope there aren't more!], and I've had to examine and deal with them.  And grow.  I'm learning to love myself in a way I never had before, even the less than perfect aspects of myself.  As a recovering perfectionist, I'm learning to embrace the imperfections -- the perfectly imperfect.  I'm learning to let go of the things [physical AND emotional] that are no longer needed.   I feel lighter, clearer and cleaner.

Relationships changed.  Some dear friends hurt me deeply.  People popped up in unexpected places and times to provide the support and guidance I needed.  Other relationships have deepened.  Those who are closest to me have watched this journey and provided so much support [you know who you are] -- you have no idea how thankful I am and how much I love you!

Who am I?  I'm a beautiful and cherished child of God in a constant state of becoming. 

Where am I going?  I'm not sure, but I know this is just the beginning of something special and wonderful!
 

The Story of the Incredible Breast

Once upon a time there was a breast, a right breast to be exact.  This particular breast was a very important, cherished part of a particular woman's body -- we'll call her Diane.  For years and years the breast was beautiful and healthy until.....

One day Diane discovered a lump in this breast.  After a multitude of tests and consultations, a bilateral mastectomy was performed.and tissue expanders were put in temporarily [to swap with implants at a later date]. 

A P.E.T. scan showed some cancer in the lymph nodes under the right arm even though 12 nodes had been removed during the surgery.   Rigorous treatment of chemotherapy and radiation therapy was performed.

And the right arm started growing.

Diane discovered an incredible lymphedema support group and started therapy with a lymphedema specialist.  And the right arm started to get back to normal.

Now, the right breast was growing, and it became very painful.  The skin around the original incision site was rough and almost black.  The bottom of the breast was extremely hot and painful to the touch.  Surgery was performed to remove lots and lots of fluid [1100 cc].

But, after the drain was removed 4 weeks later, the right breast started to grow again, and burst through the skin and started to squirt lymphatic fluid.

Another surgery was performed to remove the fluid; this time the expander was also removed.  The skin immediately started to look and feel better.

But, after the drain was removed 4 weeks later, the right breast started to grow again.

It's a seroma.  [Wikipedia has a nice explanation of a seroma [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seroma].]

This is where the story pauses, but it's far from over. The incredible right breast is doing its best.  And the incredible left breast, still with a tissue expander in it, is holding its own beautifully.

One Year Anniversary

One year ago today I had a bilateral [double] mastectomy.  It's been quite a year.

It's been a year of going to a gazillion medical professionals:  general surgeon, plastic surgeon, lymphedema specialist, medical oncologist, radiation oncologist, otolaryngologist [ear, nose & throat], psychologist and general practitioner.  It's been a year of procedures: MRI's, CT scans, mammography, ultrasounds, and blood draws, to name a few.  And then there have been the surgeries: bilateral mastectomy including insertion of tissue expanders [with a 2-day stay in the hospital], insertion of chemo port, removal of chemo port, and drainage of fluid build-up in the breast.  And let's not forget the chemotherapy and the radiation therapy.

It's been a year of physical pain, sometimes more than I could ever have imagined, in different manifestations.

It's been a year of emotional pain, frustration, anger, depression...

It's been a year of learning and growing.

It's been a year of finding out who my true friends really are, and letting go those who aren't.

It's been a year of joy, of being thankful for being alive, and for all the amazing people [and my cat] that have enriched my life and kept me going.

And lastly, but most importantly, it's been a year of coming closer to my God.