Serious Cause for Thanks

A year ago this month I was recovering from a lumpectomy.

It was my first time participating in NaBloPoMo, and I chose to participate specifically because I thought writing everyday would be a good diversion from whatever I might need diverting from, and perhaps a helpful therapy device.

As a diversion, writing about the experience wasn't always successful. As a form of therapy, I was grateful for the outlet.

My story from last November (which is accessible by clicking on the "November 2007" link in the archives section, just to the right) has a happy ending. The surgery, performed on the 6th, was textbook perfect. The results, which I received on the 9th, showed that my breast was cancer-free. My recovery was rapid; I never needed all the pain-killers provided in the prescription.

For all of these things I am deeply thankful.

I am also thankful for preventative medicine measures such as mammograms. Having said that, I should explain that my mammogram did not find my lump. I found it while in the shower. (Soapy water is the best method of discovery!) In fact, after I found the lump, neither mammogram nor ultrasound could definitively find it, although the lab techs were very able to confirm that it was there.

That was a terribly, profoundly, disgusting moment!! I had to admit to a small amount of relief that someone else was able to find the cause of worry that I had, yet it confirmed for me that I really did have something to worry about!!! The machines told me there was no lump. The humans in charge of the technology agreed (with me, not their tech-toys) that something was there. At least the humans were able to laugh with me and relate with me about the emotional conundrum I faced: "The good news is that we know you're not crying 'wolf', however, the bad news is that you may have something life-endangering growing inside you."

Again, that ended up not to be the case. I DID learn that the greatest benefit of preventative medecine is not always the procedures used, but the contact and reassurances one receives. I felt well-cared-for at each turn. That made a tremendous difference.

I have an obligation and an opportunity to get a mammogram every year. While I still must do my own self-exams, I feel like this clinical reminder is as helpful as anything else. It's as official as doing taxes and renewing license plates and voting. By putting that appointment on the calendar, I am making a commitment to my health.

I check my husband's breasts now and again, too. Breast cancer runs in his family. Never forget that men have breasts, and can be vulnerable to breast cancer! Because breast cancer awareness is not as promoted among men, it tends to be more lethal when it is finally detected, as it often goes undetected until a late stage of growth and has metastasized.

I celebrate my grim and joyful anniversary much as I spent my recovery: snuggling on the couch with my pets. Just for a moment, though. Life marches steadily forward, so I cannot stay here long! I embrace the activities with which I will fill the rest of my day.

I do enjoy this quiet moment as a gift.

 

Celebrate Life

Every single day is a gift.

Surgery Sinks In... Or Is It Just The Scalpel?

Here's the full story of my breast cancer scare.

Almost a year ago I found a lump. It was a fluke, a total accident. I usually wash using a mesh 'scrunchie', but for some unknowable reason, that day I just used my hands and shower gel. That's how I found the lump. It was on the outside edge of my right breast.

It took a couple of days to call my gynecologist. I kept forgetting! Yes, I know. That's dumb. That's probably reckless. I'm sure you understand it's not the kind of thing that you want to think about... it just took a while, that's all.

I was referred for a mammogram -- it showed NOTHING. So they wheeled in ultrasound equipment. With difficulty, something kindasorta was there, they weren't sure what. The only sure test for whatever was there, was to search manually.

On my next annual exam my doctor referred me to a surgeon, but she used the term "breast specialist". I pondered the meaning of that title: Breast Specialist. I imagined having that title, and being at a cocktail party. "So what do you do?" "I'm a breast specialist." (pause, as the ice in everyone's glasses clinks musically) "Did you say 'best'?" "I heard 'test', do you test cars, or planes?" (It was fun!) But my GYN explained that to tell someone they are being sent to a "breast SURGEON" is far scarier than a "breast specialist", and I can testify to that.

My surgeon was great, very reassuring, and was confident that my situation was not critical. It was decidet to meet again in 3 months or so (that would be June) for a follow-up. Summers are really busy for us, though, because of the bike training and fund raising we do, plus our wedding was in early July. So I didn't see him again until late July. We decided no surgery unless there was a drastic change.

When I started feeling a pinching, burning sensation in the area of the lump, an internal alarm went off. There was also a warmth in the area that wasn't associated with the usual spike in my menstrual cycle; again, the alarm sounded. This was late September, early October.

This time it took me two weeks to make the call to the doctor. It takes something to wind up that dialing finger to call for someone to slice a hole in my body. Probably a lot of it has to do with finally admitting that there's something really wrong and very scary. Not just hair-raising, but hair-losing scary. Maybe even life-ending scary. And no matter how many people have been there before, it's a very cavernous and alone feeling. Overwhelming? Nope. That word doesn't touch it. Find a bigger one, then double it. Then quadruple it. Then you'll have a close idea.

After that, everything else was relatively easy. The staff at Fairview Hospital were simply amazing. Everytime I have had to be there, for whatever reason, they have outdone themselves with their ability to care. I am smiling as I type! They made me feel special. That's an accomplishment, because I walked in there absolutely terrified, so bravo. You all are superstars.

Recovery has been a breeze, largely because of a textbook job done on my surgery and my marvelous husband. Our pets have been very comforting. Pain management has been practically nothing -- I haven't needed the maximum of the heavy duty 'stuff' EVER, and I have stopped taking it as of Thursday. That's just 2 days post-op, folks! I'm very proud of my body.

Aiding my recovery, of course, is the news that my lump is completely cancer-free. I've been wiping my brow and thanking God hourly since I got the news.

I am adopted, so I have no family medical history. I have no idea what curve balls genetics will be throwing me. I feel like I've just had a dress-rehearsal for The Next Big Thing. I feel like I could possibly help someone else.

I had to tell my story because it underscores the importance of the breast self exam. (And ladies, please check your men. Men have breasts, too...)

posted in honor of all who have fought and won
posted in honor of all who have fought and passed on, including Cleveland Institute of Art Professor Wayne Draznin, 1950-2001

J Jump Joyful

"J Jump Joyful" was one of my favorite Sesame Street songs when I was very little. It fit me then (my middle name is Joy) and it fits me RIGHT NOW, hence this composition! Silk bobbins and my hand-carved stamp help me express in color and gesture my joy:

the pathology on my breast lump came back benign.

I cannot begin to express in words my relief or gratitude.

I'm going to start a new tapestry to celebrate. I'll use these threads.

Having scheduled my follow-up appointment with my surgeon, the next pressing engagement I must arrange (I'm not usually this formal but the occasion kinda needs some sort of ceremony) is the donation of my hair!

I have been planning to donate my hair for months, it's quite long now. How marvelous that I get to give it to someone else! (How much better it would be if the world could be rid of cancer and alopecia, perhaps there would no longer be a need for hair donations.) I did worry it would have to be made into my own wig. May my donation be a blessing to warm and cool and crown another.

Front Yard Late Season Color

Front Yard Late Season Color
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

The day is a very gray one. But our yard is bursting with color! I am astonished that we have three different colors of iris blooming at this time of year.

In May we have eye-poppingly different colors of iris, in both the front and back. We expected the bright yellow, as my mother-in-law Sandy gave us some rhizomes of twice-blooming irises in that color a few years ago. But the pale blue (around the edges; in the diffused light it is coming off as just white) and pale yellow are completely unexpected.

And look!! There are still buds! How delightful!!!

THIS, after we had snow on Tuesday. Not that the snow lasted, and the snow was only on the east side of town. No one I talked to at the hospital had snow on their side of the river. It never lasts, this time of year. But still! This is a spring flower. And by all the signs, we should be expecting more blossoms.

Reasons to smile!!! Yet more delight!

Iris in the Midst of Autumn

Iris in the Midst of Autumn
Originally uploaded by sunspotting.

A close-up of one of the pretty ice-blue irises. I really like this color. I probably shouldn't have been doing this today, but I didn't want to miss these blossoms. Grab life by the stamens!

Immobilized

Three of my recovery aids, from left to right: Bert, a capful of Darvocet (I only ever take 1, though the bottle says I can take 2 at a time if I need to. How nice it's not yet come to that!), and Cleopatra. Oh, and my panda blanket helps a lot, too! Bert and Cleo don't let me move around much. I think my surgeon would give them gold stars for their assistance to him, keeping me still. Ok, the Darvoset's pretty effective for that, too! In the meantime, Rick's making supper! Lovely. I am surrounded, uplifted, very very blessed.

On the Couch to Recovery

Recovery is better with company. I have my usual snugglers, my dog Cleopatra and cat Bert and husband Rick, who surprized us all with the addition of normally standoffish Morgan and Mirth! So it's monkey-pile on the couch, at least til Morg and Mirth can wriggle out of Rick's arms! There's another companion on the couch I'm appreciating right now, but you can't see it in all it's pinky goodness: Darvocet. Ahhh. Lovely. It's nice because it keeps my boob gash from being a constant companion. I'll take that swap!

New Bling

I'm home now. Groggy. Fed, now, too! Wearing something more substantial than a hospital gown. Still with the nagging headache, that's aggravating! I just wanted to show off the new and improved hospital bracelet, and make sure the world knows I made it out of my scary lumpectomy. Next hurdle: the mystery of the pathology. Interesting: while we were at the hospital, the City of Cleveland Heights planted a stick ('tree', if you like; we'll see if it sprouts leaves in the spring) on our tree bank. Also, right this moment, it is thunder snowing. A very interesting day. Also interesting? My cameraphone's ability to focus at this distance from my wrist is about how well I am able to focus on the world on Darvocet... but I kinda like it... (for now, anyway. As long as it keeps me from feeling the gash in my boob.)

Comic Timing

HA! I *really* hope this is legible. In case it isn't, here's the text: the caption reads 'Med School'. Student raises hand to say, 'Examine them?' to which the instructor responds, 'Wrong! After they wait in the waiting room, you make them wait in *another* room.' I'm in the waiting room. It's reassuring to know they get this training early on.

A Bit Nippy

Season's first snow! You saw it here first! We are going to vote, then to the hospital to get rid of my lump. Hideho, what a day!

PreSurgery Jitters (YOGA BREATHS! FAST!)

Earrings OUT! Surgery is tomorrow. In addition to the usual precautions (no food or drink after midnight, no aspirin from 4 days ago), I have to remove all piercings. There are usually 13 earrings distributed across the surfaces of my ears. This is the most metal-free they have been in YEARS (read: there is NO metal in my ears, and I find it very strange).

Oh yeah, and the rings have to come off. I think that can wait til tomorrow just before I go in. I think asking my husband to hold my wedding set will be comforting for both of us. I guess the absense of metal is precautionary in the event of an emergency MRI. Hmm. OR get caught on instruments/clothes during the procedure, causing further injury.

Then again it could always be that spectre of liability: if it's not in the hospital in the first place, no one at the hospital can be sued when you discover it has disappeared!

Nevermind! I'm not going to have that kind of day tomorrow!

But I am a bit nervous and restless today. Wandering around on the World Wide Wait, I discovered that this month is National Blog Posting Month, already in progress, but I'm throwing my hat into the ring anyway! Perhaps because I've only just made the discovery they will waive the previous few days. So stay tuned! I'll be far more present!

I'm also wishing aimlessly wishing there was an 'Advance Sending Corps' of, I don't know, 'anesthesia light' provided on the day before Scary Cutting Open Days!

Some Trepidation

Feeling a bit melancholy. Apprehensive. Like I want to use words like 'portentous' or 'abyss'. I feel like this image from our hike a few days ago is particularly ideal for my frame of mind.

I am having surgery on Tuesday, and surgery is always a scary thing. This procedure, however, may not be the end of it, though. It's a lumpectomy. So first I have to get through the surgery, then endure the waiting for the results, then deal with the results.

Interestingly, Tuesday is also Election Day. There's usually some anxiety involved there. Fortunately it's only local offices and issues on the ballot this time, so nerves are only at minimal alert and limited to worrying about the technical execution of the balloting itself. Fingers are crossed, prayers are being said, and there may be a chicken or two on obscure altars, who knows? All I know is that we will be voting before we go to the hospital. It would be irresponsible (and possibly illegal) to vote while still under the effects of anesthesia. ANYWAY...

*sigh* Yes, I think the leaf falling through the autumn air is rather correct for me today.

You Must Be This... Whatever... To Ride

It's surgery pretesting day. Took about 20 minutes. I hadn't looked at the ID tag though, so I'm a bit surprized by the hand-written-ness of it. The medical office I was in had lots of technology. You'd have thought they might have faked something to make it look official... I mean, next week someone's slicing into my breast like it's a potroast, and right now my only souvenier is a hand-written Tyvek bracelet. (Could everybody pray that baseline remains status quo? Cuz I'm actually kinda happy about my bracelet.)