People's HealthBlogger Awards

A few weeks ago I thought it might be a good idea to enter Mothers With Cancer in the People's HealthBlogger Awards. The Awards are for any bloggers who write primarily about health or healthy living topics. That's certainly MWC! Plus, the Awards are sponsored or invented or made up... (whatever) by a website that is forever sending me all sorts of email invitations that I quite rudely delete and ignore. A little more visibility with our target audience would be nice compensation for the probable carpal tunnel I'll eventually get in my Delete Finger.

Anyway, that great idea was a few weeks ago (I think). But, as I've been discovering, my mind is as water tight as a leaky dinghy at best... and a collander at worst. So I applied and promptly forgot all about it. That's me. Memory like a steel trap! At least that used to be the case. *sigh*

Frankly, I've been a bit worried about my memory issues of late. I can't seem to remember anything anymore. This isn't the run of the mill Chemo Brain. On Wednesday Ben had an appointment with Dr. Flaton at 10:30. I saw it on the kitchen calendar that morning. I left Daddy-O a note reminding him to let the school know I'd be picking Ben up. I told Ben about the appointment. I even remembered to grab the medication evaluation paperwork from the bookcase. Next thing I know, my cell phone is ringing and it's Dr. Flaton's office calling to ask if we were keepingour appointment. It was 10:45! Gah!

The day before I discussed with Wonder Sitter keeping Danny home from preschool the next day. I agreed to call his therapists & let them know not to show up. I couldn't even remember that long enough for the 3 block drive home. I did finally remember it 24 hours later as I was driving home from our office Christmas party. I am not going to go into the dozens of messages and reminders I have forgotten to give Daddy-O.

Of course, I worry about breast cancer metastasis to the brain. At least that's what I worry about when I remember there is something to worry about. Directly after the thought of mets enters my head I hear a resounding "Pshaw!" bouncing around between my ears. I guess I don't really believe I have a brain metastasis. It's just that I have always had a near perfect memory - particularly for daily minutia. It's frustrating to completely forget entire appointments and conversations. I imagine it's much like being a man...

Just in case someone Googles brain mets looking for some useful information and got my drivel instead, I will include a list of the 7 Typical Signs or Symptoms of Brain or Spinal Metastisis.

In any patient previously diagnosed with cancer, the following should raise the suspicion for a brain tumor:

1. A persistent headache with or without vomiting.
2. Seizures (Change in type or frequency )
3. Double vision, mental changes, speech difficulty.
4. Stroke (brain hemorrhage). Certain brain metastases, such as melanoma, renal carcinoma, and choriocarcinoma bleed easily.
5. Confusion
6. Any numbness, arm or leg weakness, back pain, difficulty walking.
7. Loss of control of bowel or bladder.

Numbers 6,7 are more common with spinal metastases.

Fortunately, I'm just forgetful (probably getting old) and a hypochodriac as the only symptom I can lay claim to is "mental changes". If I can remember long enough I'll say a little thank you for that during my prayers tonight.

In the meantime, click on the handy little button on the right and give a vote for MWC.

Breast Cancer and the Stressed-out Dodo

Remember the Dodo birds from the Disney movie Ice Age? There's a part where they all walk around chanting, "Doomed. Doomed. DOOMED. DOOOOOMED!" Just before they all accidentally walk, jump, fall or roll off the cliff one by one.

Well, that's about how I feel every time I read a new article about breast cancer research. This morning's article on Yahoo Health informed me that I was doomed from childhood.
According to the latest research by Dr. Ronit Peled of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev in Beer Sheva, experiencing severe life events at a young age (before 20) can increase your risk of developing breast cancer by as much as 62%. Well, shit.

Doomed.

Peled studied 622 women between 25 and 45 years old. 41% of them had been diagnosed with breast cancer, the other 59% had not. Their "Severe Life Events", such as loss of a spouse or close relative were tallied as well as mild/moderately stressful events like bad illness, tragedy or job loss and they were given a questionnaire to determine their anxiety, depression, happiness and optimism levels.

Guess what? The women who had two or more severe or mild/moderate life events were 62% more likely to have beast cancer. Plus, those mild/moderate life events seem to build on each other for a cumulative effect. Oh, goody!

The good news? Women with a "general feeling of happiness and optimism" had a lower risk of being diagnosed. About 25% lower.

His conclusion: Women suffering severe losses at a young age should be considered at high risk for breast cancer and treated accordingly. Do you hear that AMA???

Also of note, Isreal has the highest incidence of breast cancer in the world. But it's not like there's any stress about living there or anything.

As I read the article I did a quick mental calculation of my pre-20 Severe Life Events.

• Age 11 - Dad clinically died for 5 1/2 minutes.
• Age 14 - Dad died.
• Age 15 - House burned down
• Age 15 - Close schoolmate committed suicide
• Age 17 - Schoolmate killed in freak car accident

Doomed.

Looking back, I had many risk factors for breast cancer that I was unaware were even risk factors. Of course, there is the ever-popular BRCA2 genetic mutation. But, hey, it's not like I knew about that before hand. I had read, however, about the increased risk for women who had their first child after the age of 30. I was 33. What was I supposed to do about that, though? Go pop out a pup just to avoid the Big C? Hardly.

And this article brought to my attention the role early stress may have played in my disease. Also, the Mayor of Lemonland at World Wide Breast Cancer informed me that a history of benign breast biopsies is also a high risk indicator for breast cancer.

Huh. See what I mean? Me and the Dodos had a lot in common.

Cross posted at Mothers with Cancer.

Dear Lymph Node, I appologize for any misunderstanding

After much poking and prodding, my primary care doctor believes that I have a pissed off lymph node(s). It might be a bit infected or inflamed or just annoyed with the world in general. He says the odds of it being cancer that has jumped from one side of my body to the other is very, very remote - tho, he is quick to inform that it is NOT unheard of. Also, just as I suspected, the pain is a symptom in my favor. It is far more likely that an inflamed something or other is causing me pain rather than cancer, which usually begins to hurt in it's more advanced stages.

So, officially, I've been told to stay off my armpit for the remainder of the weekend, apply heat, and take an anti-inflammatory as needed. Also, he called in a RX for antibiotics that I am to fill if the pain increases by, say, 25% in the next 4-5 days. On Monday, I am to call both he and my oncologist's office to give updates. While he won't rule out the possibility of a recurrence (who in their right mind would with my history), he thought it highly unlikely. More probable was that I was a cancer survivor with a ticked off lymph node.

In hindsight, the only lymph node offending action I may have taken in the last few days is the wearing of my first underwire bra since my mastectomy/reconstruction. In my defense, however, it was very adorable... and lavender.

Pre-appointment update.

I woke up this morning and my underarm is much less painful. While the pain is still there it is far more diffused. Is "diffused" the right word? I'm not sure. What I mean by that is the center spot, while still sore, is not as painful as it was. And the other lines of pain are more broken.

All in all, I'm feeling more positive. I have no stinking idea what it could be and I'm pretty sure someone will insist I have some sort of scan just to be sure it's not a recurrence of the nastiness... but I feel fairly confident none-the-less.

The stinky underarm

All day I felt like I had a bit of razor burn in my left underarm. Nothing too bad. By the end of my work day I reached up to pull at my shirt sleeve because the irritation had become a bit more than annoying. Yow. It felt like I had a big bruise in my armpit. I went back to work. Yet, as with most things that aren't quite right, it kept turning over and over in the back of my mind.

Razor burn. I rarely have to shave under my arms since I had chemo and radiation. The last time was actually about 3 days ago. Too long ago for razor burn. A bruise. What could I have done to bruise myself under my arm?

Once I got off work and was alone in my car, free from prying eyes, I began the probe. As I drove to pick the kids up from the sitter's my right hand was fingering my left underarm, a mental triage checklist ticking off. Can I feel a lump? Is it lymph nodes? No. Who knows what a lymph node even feels like? Why is it so tender? I wonder if it looks different? Swollen? Red? It's not my cancer side. That's probably a good sign. It's tender half way down the underside of my upper arm and down the outside of my breast against my ribs. Shit.

Mello thought it looked a bit swollen compared to my right under arm. I looked at it when I got home but it's impossible to tell if any difference is an actual difference or something because I've had lymph nodes removed from one side and not the other. Well, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that no matter how much it sucks to make the call it's way better to be safe than sorry. So, I called my oncologist's office.

She just moved to a brand new practice. I've never even been there before. I have never met these people. They don't know me. They don't know that I'm not a hypochondriac. That I don't call because I have a pimple on my chest and fear the worst. So I explained the deal. I can tell already that I'm going to love this office. She listened intently, and took notes. (The old office would have just jotted something down and said "I'll have the doctor call." ) She asked pertinent questions: had I fallen, lifted weights, worked out, strained myself in any way recently? Did I feel any lump? How far did the pain go? Did it radiate? What exactly did it feel like? How long had it been there? Then she read her note back to me to make sure she had it exactly right. I have never had a doctor's office do that. Unfortunately, my doc is gone for 2 weeks on vaca. She's leaving for Peru. (Hopefully she isn't already there getting shook up in the earthquake.)

So, she said she'd have the nurse look over my chart and in the meantime I'd have D's pediatrician give my underarm a poke tomorrow since I'm taking him in for an ear infection - just to see if it might be a lymph node or something. Good. Good. We've got it covered. I made the call. Everyone did the right thing. I feel good.

Less than 5 minutes later the phone rings. It's the oncologists office. Crap. That was way too quick for comfort. The nurse had reviewed my chart. She wanted me to get in to see my primary care dr. tomorrow - they'd already checked their schedule & they couldn't get me in (crap! again). If I can't get in to see my primary I'm to call them back and they'll get me in somewhere else. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Obviously, my chart told on me. I'm sure the unsuspecting nurse opened my chart and was greeted by all sorts of sirens and flying red flags screaming IBC! IBC! DANGER! DANGER! ALL PIMPLES MUST BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY! Well, at least they are proactive, eh.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Ha! If I wasn't worried I wouldn't be posting into the blogosphere about my armpit pain. On the other hand, I do take great comfort in it being on my left side not my right. I don't really see it making a big leap like that with no warning. Shush! All of you! Leave me to my fantasies! Also, with all of my positive lymph nodes before, not a one of them was tender or painful. Nary a one. So there. Now I can sleep.