Saturday, February 28, 2009

Reality sinks in

I've been up since 3:30 ... I've got to make a note to ask for a prescription for Ambien. I feel every tinge in my body and in the darkness and stillness of the night, I'm certain that its spread to my ovaries, my left shoulder, my hamstring ... my imagination takes over.

We met with our highly recommended oncologist last night ... for hours ... I'm swimming in data. I should make a note to take a statistician with me next time. And, next time is Tuesday. I'm trying to schedule an appointment with my surgeon for a fine needle aspiration of the nearly 2 cm swollen lymph node in my armpit. Then I'll go back to the oncologist for a bone scan to make sure it hasn't spread. I'll do blood work to test my genetics as well. Wednesday I will go to "Chemo for newbies" where I will learn that my hair will likely fall out on the 21st day ... by April 1st ... And, if all goes as planned ... on Thursday I will start chemo. Later, in the weeks to come, I will get a port inserted into my chest, additional tests done to test my resting cardio, etc.

Why am I doing chemo first you ask? It has several advantages. Survival rate is the same if you do chemo and then a mastectomy versus the traditional route. It gives the doc time to check your genetics, you see physically how the body and tumor responds to chemo, it gives less time with a prosthesis as well ... so going this route, I'll have a mastectomy in mid-summer instead of next week. You can bet your a$$ I will take my girls to the beach every chance I get ... even if I sit bald and puking under an awning watching them play in the sand.

The oncologist has been the first doc that has referenced death ... sure I know it's out there but it's slapping me in the face now. How could I leave my girls, my husband, my family ... like the country music song by Kenny Chesney says ... everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody want to go now. That's me ... I don't want to go yet.

For the first time ever I wish my running buddies were going at 6:30 on a Sat. I'd be there ... it's not raining yet. I don't know if I can make it 8 miles today. I'm dizzy from lack of sleep but I can hear birds chirping and the sun should be up soon ... it's tempting to try. The doc told me I can't run my half marathon in three weeks but I can WALK the Race for the Cure in June. I'll be running ...

Squeeze someone you love today.
Ann

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Marketing Ourselves to the Healthcare Industry

Jeff and I spent most of Wednesday on the phone. We talked to receptionists across town ... begging and pleading for appointments, faxing records, retrieving our mammogram images, etc. We played up my age (which I don't like to divulge) and tried to see if that would help. Mid-day, I spoke with my OB/GYN and felt great when he was familiar with my case via my surgeon and he immediately recommended the same oncologist that everyone else comes up with. UNC never returned our phone call, so we've kind of ruled them out.

My jaws hurt when I finally made it to KidStuf practice. (It's a kid-oriented program through our church where Jeff plays a fun-loving skateboarding teenager and I help out every so often with the Scripture.) He is playing his character Vinny this weekend, playing Gilligan in a dream. I am reading a lot of Scripture and telling the story of Paul and how he never gave up hope while being shipwrecked three times. It's very appropriate. The virtue for March is HOPE: Believing something good will come out of something bad.

We met with a second surgeon today. She took a lot of time to draw us out diagrams, explain the treatments and walk us through the options. She validated what we'd been told ... mastectomy, chemo, radiation and then reconstruction. I was really hoping that I'd be a candidate for immediate reconstruction but between the two surgeons and my limited amount of research ... I realize, I might not be.

Tomorrow we meet with the oncologist. I can't wait. I hope and pray we develop a plan by the time we leave his office.

We tried to tell the girls tonight. I don't think it sunk in. We explained that I will be going to the doctor a lot. That I'm sick but with a lot of medicine at the doctor that I'll get better but it will take a while. We told them they can help by throwing away their own tissues, washing their hands, covering their mouths when they cough, etc. Rose has a runny, runny nose right now. She was so sweet; when I tucked her in tonight I told her I hoped she felt better and she replied, "I hope you feel better soon too, mommy." I wanted to cry. Grace is drinking milk. She has drank more this week than in the last two years; it's called Silk. It's a soy milk ... but it's working. She drank a carton last week and was thrilled when we got her more tonight.

If you've called, emailed, etc. thank you. I may not have responded but I've read it or listened to the message and filed it away for a grey day when I need it. I just can't keep up with everything.

Hugs.
Ann

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Step One ... What the heck is it?

Well ... the day started with a 4.5 mile run or so and that was good. Nancy and Steph met me there. It was blustery (in the 20s) but a good stress relief. Since I'd been tossing and turning all night with kids in and out of our bed, it was good to get going.

Always wanting to be popular, I have the most popular kind of breast cancer. It's invasive ductal breast cancer with high grade DCIS. http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/types/idc/ If all the junk I'm reading on the Internet is right, its survival rates are admirable.

It's too soon to tell but it's probably stage 2 or 3. The tumor is at least 2.5 to 3 cm. It's my right side.

What's the next step? The board of docs at Rex recommended a mastectomy SOON and removing one swollen lymph node and testing others. And, then chemo ... followed by a helping of radiation ... and finally for the icing on the cake so to speak ... reconstruction in time for the holidays (and I don't mean Easter). This will be my 2009. I'm hoping for a better 2010 ... and many years to come ...

What are we doing now? I made a huge pot of vegetable soup, we've got a fire and a bottle of red wine. So, we're going to spend the night like we normally do. Maybe, we'll play a round of Go Fish or Crazy Eights. The girls are getting good at it and I've stopped crying when I lose. They don't know anything is going on yet ... although they are suspicious I think. They can sense the stress level ... but they're loving all the play dates.

I've called oncologists and specialists at UNC, Duke and Rex to make sure that I get a second opinion. I'm not going to "give up what I've got" until I make sure it's the right thing to do. But, I also understand ... the cancer is growing and spreading fast. I can see it changing my body. I know I have to act fast.

Thanks to everyone who's calling, sending cards, helping with our kids and praying for us. We appreciate it all. I don't feel alone in this ... I feel like an entire army is behind us. I still believe God has a plan for this, I have requested it and I'm sure it's just lost in the mail ... if you get it ... forward it to me.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Weekend

Well, the weekend came and went ... we were so busy we couldn't really dwell on things. The Camdens had Christmas on Sunday without us. That hurt, we wanted to be there. They'd postponed their Christmas dinner and we still didn't make it two months later. We missed the Purdue/i.u. game. Purdue won and it was bitter cold up there ... my brother and sister helped make it into a party and a good friend took the girls for the afternoon so we could watch it without them. They had a blast although I'm nervous that she took them to Chapel Hill and they drank at the Old Well ... I hope that doesn't poison them against a good education ...

Sunday night we spent writing out questions ... we have six pages of handwritten questions for an oncologist, a surgeon, a radiologist, a plastic surgeon ... we've got questions and now all we need are answers.

We prayed a lot this weekend with friends and family ... I'm sure God has a plan. I've scoured my email inbox and haven't found it yet ... I hope it isn't stuck in my spam filter. Just kidding.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Exercise

Jeff and I went to exercise last night. Normally we like to talk and catch up ... last night we each plugged in our headphones and away we went ... into our own worlds. It was nice not to think about anything but music. Although, I borrowed his Ipod and it was way too mellow for a good workout. You can not bike to Allison Kraus, Bonnie Raitt and Lyle Lovett. It just isn't healthy.

I'm still planning on doing the half marathon with dad in Norfolk in late March. How cool is that. Thirteen miles with the first man you loved ... and its his first half. I'm so jazzed for that ... of course now I'm nervous I'll be "breastless" and recovering from surgery and on the sidelines. Tomorrow I'm going to do another long run. I'm hoping for 8-10 miles. I did 11 two weeks ago and felt great until the very, very end ... but I could have gone the distance. Now, I'm not sure. I'm scared.

I have had so many family members reach out to me. Few of our friends beyond our true inner circle know. But, its been great to hear from folks. They ask what they can do ... here's my list ...

1. PRAY. PRAY. PRAY.
2. Give Blood. I don't know why this keeps hitting me ... but give blood. The world needs it.
3. Send me funny jokes. I need a good laugh.
4. Treat me normal. Tell me what's going on in your life. I don't want to be the center of attention ... okay, not all the time.
5. Help my husband. He's taking on a lot right now and needs an outlet too. Invite him to hit golf balls, shoot birds, drive go carts, cheer for Purdue ... he needs away from all the estrogen in our house.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

The diagnosis

Never trust a doctor that is pale ... they have bad news. When I woke up from a routine incisional biopsy on Monday ... I found it strange that Jeff and the doctor were both there hovering over me. I wasn't supposed to get the results until after a vacation to Indiana ... sometime in early March I'd stumble back into his office. Or ... so I thought. He says its cancer. It looked worst than he expected and he sent it off for a pathology test right away but it was positive for cancer -- negative for me, I guess. He threw out lots of big words that I don't fully comprehend due to the pain medicine. I'm not sure I'll ever understand them. He talks about hair loss and breast loss and reconstruction. Its hard to swallow.

So, we spend Tuesday with a friend of mine that I never spend enough time with ... she's a ten year survivor and comes prepared with funny movies, kleenex, books on cancer, Scripture, prayers and a wealth of information and experience that you don't stumble across every day. I'm confident there is a reason that God has chosen me for this ... I just don't see the bigger picture yet. I don't think this will kill me ... it will make my life a living hell for the next year. I can't imagine explaining to my daughter Grace that I could be bald by summer.

Silly things go through my head ... like contact our family photographer and get those beach photos we've always wanted, thank God I have a current will and life insurance, what about planting more bulbs this spring if I'm going to be home more often, wonder where I can get a good hat that I can wear to work and not look so freakish, how will a swimsuit or a running shirt every fit me the same again.

We start telling friends and family ... that's a tough pill. It's going easier than I expected though and I usually cry before I tell someone so that when I get there, I'm fine. I can be strong. I have a hard head and a stronger spine. I slowly adapt to the fact that I will need help ... lots of it.

Wed. we go for an MRI. Nothing exciting there. Stick your boobs into two small shoe box size squares and lay still for 30 minutes with your hands spread over your head like Superman. Now, I'm a hero ... ha.

Our next big milestone is Fri. when all the doctors will review my files and test results and make some recommendations. I won't be in the room. They'll get with me on Tues. at 2:00. I need to find a sitter. Meanwhile, I've got calls into UNC's cancer center. And, the NYC Marathon lottery opens at 11:00 today. I'm signing up. I'll beat this and I need something to look forward to in November. Today, I'm confident I'll be a survivor.