Is it just me or has 2010 been brutal? I haven't talked to a family yet that hasn't had life hand them anything but a steaming pile of doggy doo since January.
My Grammy has been to doctor after doctor trying to find out if she actually has a tumor in her brain that's causing her to fall all the time or if she's got something else wrong instead. Meanwhile my 81 year old Grandpa Jess, who had a massive stroke a year ago at Christmas, has developed pneumonia. Did I mention my Grammy is his primary caregiver? And just to add insult to injury, my Aunt who helps my Grandfolks out on a daily basis was given scabies by her dog who likes to play with the neighbor's chickens.
And that's just my genetic family. My other families haven't gone unscathed...
My bff and her family are going through a traumatic divorce and the unexpected death of a beloved family friend.
A girlfriend of mine was brutally beaten by a mutual guy friend who turned out to be no one I want to be friends with.
Worst of all, my Mothers With Cancer family has not gone unscathed. Sarah from Spruce Hill has suffered a recurrence of her breast cancer. It's metastasized to her chest wall, hip and lungs. Now, this morning I find out that Toddler Planet's Susan just got the results of her latest scan. Not good. She has some lymph nodes on her scan making like light bulbs... just calling attention to themselves. It sucks when you have to hope for a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad infection causing problems because the other options are completely unacceptable.
Superstitious as it is, I've always known these types of things to come in threes. So now I find myself holding my breath waiting for the other recurrence shoe to drop. And me with my own scans coming up this month...
I've had a heart-to-heart with God. I know he has a plan. I know "that all things work together for good to them that love God". But I am struggling mightily with his means just now.
Deep breath. I've been tossing around symbolic apparel ideas for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in July. All of this has led me to a decision. I am now shopping for some pink boot covers. The kind you wear over your own shoes with your Halloween costume. They will be my Kick Cancer's Ass Boots! After all, boots are made for walking!!!!!
It's the least I can do. Literally.
Showing posts with label Mothers with cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mothers with cancer. Show all posts
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Walk the walk
I'm going to walk. I've been doing it most of my life so how hard can it really be? I walk on my breaks at work (when I remember to take them). I walk with the kids if they beg me long enough. I walk across parking lots on my way to one store or another. Easy peasy.
On July 10th and 11th I'll be walking with a purpose. I'll be in San Francisco walking the walk... the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer! It's a mere 39 miles across the City By The Bay. Thirty. Nine. You heard me! Ack!!!!!
I am excited to get started! I'm going to train! I'm going to work hard. I'm going to raise tons of money for a great cause!!! I'm going to do my part to ensure that no one else has to lose their parts ever again!!!!
I hope I can make it. I hope I can raise enough money. $1800 is a lot of money! I'm thinking of forming a team. Maybe Team Mothers with Cancer or Team Class of 84! Maybe something else entirely.
Will you walk with me? Will you help fight the good fight? Will you walk for Andrea Collins-Smith, Cancer Visa, and One Mother With Cancer who lost their battles against the beast? Will you donate for the many, many moms over at Mothers With Cancer that have been victimized by breast cancer?
Will you walk for me?
On July 10th and 11th I'll be walking with a purpose. I'll be in San Francisco walking the walk... the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer! It's a mere 39 miles across the City By The Bay. Thirty. Nine. You heard me! Ack!!!!!
I am excited to get started! I'm going to train! I'm going to work hard. I'm going to raise tons of money for a great cause!!! I'm going to do my part to ensure that no one else has to lose their parts ever again!!!!
I hope I can make it. I hope I can raise enough money. $1800 is a lot of money! I'm thinking of forming a team. Maybe Team Mothers with Cancer or Team Class of 84! Maybe something else entirely.
Will you walk with me? Will you help fight the good fight? Will you walk for Andrea Collins-Smith, Cancer Visa, and One Mother With Cancer who lost their battles against the beast? Will you donate for the many, many moms over at Mothers With Cancer that have been victimized by breast cancer?
Will you walk for me?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Benefit or Burden
I love October. Suddenly the bright spotlight of the media is shown on stories that normally don't rate for their lack of warm fuzziness.
Take the Welsh's from Ohio, for instance... Both wife and husband are in their 60s and are undergoing Breast Cancer treatment. Both. Of. Them.
This is a subject near and dear to my heart as my boys have a significantly increased risk of developing breast cancer because I and my mother both carry the BRCA2 genetic mutation. By significantly, I mean about 80 times that of other men!!! This equates to about a 1 in 14 lifetime chance of breast cancer. BRCA2 also increases the risk of other cancers: prostate, pancreatic and stomach cancers as well as melanoma. Did they hit the genetic jackpot or what!? The BRCA2 gene DOUBLES a man's chances of developing prostate cancer and melanoma! My boys have a 1 in 3 chance of prostate cancer before they turn 65! All of these cancers will rear their ugly heads earlier than typical in a BRCA2 man.
I have long been an advocate of Knowledge Is Power! It's only when we hide medical histories and facts in the dark because of embarrassment or fear that these awful diseases get the upper hand. That being said, knowing my boys could be victims of genetic Russian Roulette, I have a decision to make. Should I get them genetically tested?
My quandary is this: genetic testing would arm all of us with the power of knowledge. We could gird our sons against cancer with more frequent screenings at much younger ages. Even enroll them in test programs aimed at prevention. However, by equipping ourselves with this information we also make the results available to insurance companies. If I test the boys as children in order to afford them the best possible chance at survival, do I label them with a giant red flag that will prevent them from ever getting health insurance? Will it cause them employment issues in the future?
It's such a tight rope to walk; future benefit or burden? What would you do?
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
Take the Welsh's from Ohio, for instance... Both wife and husband are in their 60s and are undergoing Breast Cancer treatment. Both. Of. Them.
This is a subject near and dear to my heart as my boys have a significantly increased risk of developing breast cancer because I and my mother both carry the BRCA2 genetic mutation. By significantly, I mean about 80 times that of other men!!! This equates to about a 1 in 14 lifetime chance of breast cancer. BRCA2 also increases the risk of other cancers: prostate, pancreatic and stomach cancers as well as melanoma. Did they hit the genetic jackpot or what!? The BRCA2 gene DOUBLES a man's chances of developing prostate cancer and melanoma! My boys have a 1 in 3 chance of prostate cancer before they turn 65! All of these cancers will rear their ugly heads earlier than typical in a BRCA2 man.
I have long been an advocate of Knowledge Is Power! It's only when we hide medical histories and facts in the dark because of embarrassment or fear that these awful diseases get the upper hand. That being said, knowing my boys could be victims of genetic Russian Roulette, I have a decision to make. Should I get them genetically tested?
My quandary is this: genetic testing would arm all of us with the power of knowledge. We could gird our sons against cancer with more frequent screenings at much younger ages. Even enroll them in test programs aimed at prevention. However, by equipping ourselves with this information we also make the results available to insurance companies. If I test the boys as children in order to afford them the best possible chance at survival, do I label them with a giant red flag that will prevent them from ever getting health insurance? Will it cause them employment issues in the future?
It's such a tight rope to walk; future benefit or burden? What would you do?
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Putting on the Pink
Ironically, Danny first refused to nurse on my right breast in October 2005-- my first sign of cancer. It's appropriate that I ended my breast cancer treatments nearly three years ago during Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
It took me only five weeks to realize that something was wrong with my body. The last normal weeks of my life. It took another four weeks for a breast exam, mammogram, ultrasound, surgical appointments, fine needle aspiration and finally, a core needle biopsy, before my diagnosis on December 22. Merry Christmas. Nine weeks. And life is never the same again. Nine. Short. Weeks. And every month since has been Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
So I'm putting on the pink for the month of October. I hope it helps even one woman do a self-exam!
In the meantime, however, I have a website to share with you. It's called The Urban Dictionary. It is a dictionary of slang. Like Wikipedia, Urban Dictionary is publicly defined site. As a parent I find this site extremely useful. As an ex-kid I find it irresistibly entertaining! In that light I offer you a few of my recently found favorite slang words. See if you can figure out which one I submitted...
Cybercondriac: An individual that reads symptoms of illnesses on the net and begins to believe they're sick.
Half your age plus seven: A dividing-line / rule, whereby one may not make a Romantic/erotic/sexual move toward someone who is not at least half one's age, plus seven more years. Ha! My co-worker is forever quoting this rule. He swears that since he is 30 it is ok for him to date women that are 22. Makes perfect sense until you reverse it. By this calculation at 43 I should be able to date a man twice my age less 7 years. That's 72 years old!!!!! Gah!
Restless Lip Syndrom: When a person keeps interrupting a conversation and can't keep their mouth shut. Hee... I know a few who suffer from this.
Sticker Paralysis: The effect caused by having a really awesome sticker and no appropriate place to use it. General symptoms include keeping the sticker in a drawer and never actually using it. Sometimes resulting in affixation remorse.
Nipple Envy: What a woman feels when she sees another woman's nipple erection and hasn't completed her post-mastectomy reconstruction. I so suffer from this!!!!!
Pisshap: A mishap involving urine, usually after a mass amount of alcohol has been consumed. This one has worked its way into my every day conversation!!!!! And that's kind of sad...
It took me only five weeks to realize that something was wrong with my body. The last normal weeks of my life. It took another four weeks for a breast exam, mammogram, ultrasound, surgical appointments, fine needle aspiration and finally, a core needle biopsy, before my diagnosis on December 22. Merry Christmas. Nine weeks. And life is never the same again. Nine. Short. Weeks. And every month since has been Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
So I'm putting on the pink for the month of October. I hope it helps even one woman do a self-exam!
In the meantime, however, I have a website to share with you. It's called The Urban Dictionary. It is a dictionary of slang. Like Wikipedia, Urban Dictionary is publicly defined site. As a parent I find this site extremely useful. As an ex-kid I find it irresistibly entertaining! In that light I offer you a few of my recently found favorite slang words. See if you can figure out which one I submitted...
Cybercondriac: An individual that reads symptoms of illnesses on the net and begins to believe they're sick.
Half your age plus seven: A dividing-line / rule, whereby one may not make a Romantic/erotic/sexual move toward someone who is not at least half one's age, plus seven more years. Ha! My co-worker is forever quoting this rule. He swears that since he is 30 it is ok for him to date women that are 22. Makes perfect sense until you reverse it. By this calculation at 43 I should be able to date a man twice my age less 7 years. That's 72 years old!!!!! Gah!
Restless Lip Syndrom: When a person keeps interrupting a conversation and can't keep their mouth shut. Hee... I know a few who suffer from this.
Sticker Paralysis: The effect caused by having a really awesome sticker and no appropriate place to use it. General symptoms include keeping the sticker in a drawer and never actually using it. Sometimes resulting in affixation remorse.
Nipple Envy: What a woman feels when she sees another woman's nipple erection and hasn't completed her post-mastectomy reconstruction. I so suffer from this!!!!!
Pisshap: A mishap involving urine, usually after a mass amount of alcohol has been consumed. This one has worked its way into my every day conversation!!!!! And that's kind of sad...
Monday, August 10, 2009
Well, that was disconcerting...
I just finished watching an episode of Mystery Diagnosis. Not my usual TV fare but this one was about Inflammatory Breast Cancer, or as they called it: "The Breasts That Changed Color."
The show told the story of Amanda Nixon who at 27 years young found her breast hardening and changing colors shortly after breast reduction surgery. This is a new twist on the typical IBC tale. The vast majority of IBC patients are either pregnant or nursing when misdiagnosed with mastitis.
Four years later Amanda is cancer-free and very active in the fight against IBC. She has beaten the odds... so far.
I've never really heard hard statistics on the IBC mortality rate. I just knew it was very high. Well, tonight I heard the official stats. A mere 40% of IBC victims are alive 5 years after diagnosis. Only 30% by 10 years. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here are some more numbers for you. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime. Of those women, one in ten will be under age 40. Cancer in younger women is typically more aggressive than other cancers.
Although those numbers are frightening, as an IBC survivor I have them embedded in my psyche. What I found disconcerting is that there is not standardized triage for breast cancer patients.
My oncologist was all over the IBC diagnosis. Even when I was in denial. I foolishly decided I didn't have IBC because there was no clinical proof. Like I can just decide that something is or isn't so and have the world fall into line. It's laughable, really. Or maybe just naive.
Amanda Nixon's doctor had no idea that the eggplant colored breast he was looking at was IBC. Don't they have a checklist or something???? I mean, really. Anyone with internet access can Google "breast discoloration" and find literally hundreds of thousands of sights referencing Inflammatory Breast Cancer!
My own mother was sent to a surgeon for a lumpectomy but NEVER REFERRED TO AN ONCOLOGIST. At least not until I badgered her and she badgered the surgeon and she finally fired him for dragging his feet on the referral. Gee, it turns out she is BRCA 2 positive just. like. me. Seeing an oncologist changed her entire course of treatment.
WHY isn't every woman diagnosed with Breast Cancer referred to an oncologist - even if it's just for an evaluation?
WHY isn't there an intake "symptom checklist" for Breast Cancer patients that can be fed into a database or something?
WHY, in the age of the internet, is there such a wide range of knowledge, awareness and approach to Inflammatory Breast Cancer? For cripes sake, some doctors are still doing surgery first before chemo!!!!
And why are some of us blessed enough to be here three, four, even ten years later when others don't last out the year?
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
The show told the story of Amanda Nixon who at 27 years young found her breast hardening and changing colors shortly after breast reduction surgery. This is a new twist on the typical IBC tale. The vast majority of IBC patients are either pregnant or nursing when misdiagnosed with mastitis.
Four years later Amanda is cancer-free and very active in the fight against IBC. She has beaten the odds... so far.
I've never really heard hard statistics on the IBC mortality rate. I just knew it was very high. Well, tonight I heard the official stats. A mere 40% of IBC victims are alive 5 years after diagnosis. Only 30% by 10 years. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here are some more numbers for you. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime. Of those women, one in ten will be under age 40. Cancer in younger women is typically more aggressive than other cancers.
Although those numbers are frightening, as an IBC survivor I have them embedded in my psyche. What I found disconcerting is that there is not standardized triage for breast cancer patients.
My oncologist was all over the IBC diagnosis. Even when I was in denial. I foolishly decided I didn't have IBC because there was no clinical proof. Like I can just decide that something is or isn't so and have the world fall into line. It's laughable, really. Or maybe just naive.
Amanda Nixon's doctor had no idea that the eggplant colored breast he was looking at was IBC. Don't they have a checklist or something???? I mean, really. Anyone with internet access can Google "breast discoloration" and find literally hundreds of thousands of sights referencing Inflammatory Breast Cancer!
My own mother was sent to a surgeon for a lumpectomy but NEVER REFERRED TO AN ONCOLOGIST. At least not until I badgered her and she badgered the surgeon and she finally fired him for dragging his feet on the referral. Gee, it turns out she is BRCA 2 positive just. like. me. Seeing an oncologist changed her entire course of treatment.
WHY isn't every woman diagnosed with Breast Cancer referred to an oncologist - even if it's just for an evaluation?
WHY isn't there an intake "symptom checklist" for Breast Cancer patients that can be fed into a database or something?
WHY, in the age of the internet, is there such a wide range of knowledge, awareness and approach to Inflammatory Breast Cancer? For cripes sake, some doctors are still doing surgery first before chemo!!!!
And why are some of us blessed enough to be here three, four, even ten years later when others don't last out the year?
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
999
That's how many days I've been cancer free. Nine hundred ninety nine days. I've had 23,976 minutes - healthy minutes - with my family and friends that I wasn't sure I'd ever have.
Tomorrow I mark 1,000 days of bonus life. Can I say how much I love that without jinxing it?
I saw Dr. Villa, my oncologist, today for my 999 day checkup. It was my eleventh 3-month appointment over the last two years, 8 months and 25 days. Actually, I forgot I even had an appointment today until I looked at the calendar this morning. I've been very busy. But I choose to look at my forgetfulness as a very, very good sign.
It means I've been feeling so healthy that there has been no reason for the insidious paranoia that haunts and torments all cancer survivors. It means cancer is not the focus of my life anymore. Is there any better news than that? I wasn't sure I'd ever see this day.
Is this what it means to be a survivor? Not a date on a calendar. Not five years. Not a countdown from date of diagnosis or surgery or end of treatment? Perhaps, it's just a feeling, instead. Survivorship. Surviving in body, mind and spirit. A true return to normal.
I hope so, anyway.
Cross-posted to Mothers with Cancer
Tomorrow I mark 1,000 days of bonus life. Can I say how much I love that without jinxing it?
I saw Dr. Villa, my oncologist, today for my 999 day checkup. It was my eleventh 3-month appointment over the last two years, 8 months and 25 days. Actually, I forgot I even had an appointment today until I looked at the calendar this morning. I've been very busy. But I choose to look at my forgetfulness as a very, very good sign.
It means I've been feeling so healthy that there has been no reason for the insidious paranoia that haunts and torments all cancer survivors. It means cancer is not the focus of my life anymore. Is there any better news than that? I wasn't sure I'd ever see this day.
Is this what it means to be a survivor? Not a date on a calendar. Not five years. Not a countdown from date of diagnosis or surgery or end of treatment? Perhaps, it's just a feeling, instead. Survivorship. Surviving in body, mind and spirit. A true return to normal.
I hope so, anyway.
Cross-posted to Mothers with Cancer
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Pardon me while I dust off the cobwebs...
Phew! Things get really dusty around here when no one's around!
Ah. That's better. Now, where was I? Ah, yes... I was having a birthday. Well, hell. That seems sooooo long ago.
You might be happy to know that I've made a mid-year's resolution. (Perhaps I'll be able to better ward off the New Year's Resolution Jinx this way.) I have resolved to renew my blogging. This past 6 months or so has been very stressful for me for no particular reason that I can determine (other than life, itself). Writing has always helped me sort through my feelings of anger, frustration, fear and inadequacy. For my own mental health, and the sanity of my family, I am back.
****************************
Today I would like to direct your attention to an interesting headline I ran across this morning.
1. Breast cancer treatments impact work status. Well, now. There's a news flash! And worse yet, the article was not much more enlightening.
****************************
In other news, I am reading my internet friend and co-blogger at Mothers With Cancer, Laurie Kingston's book, Not Done Yet: Living Through Breast Cancer. Laurie blogs over at Not Just About Cancer. I am sooooo loving her book and will be writing a review shortly.
****************************
Lastly, as our typical summer would have it, my boys are having an extended visit at Nana's house. I really miss them. In theory. Does it make me a bad mom if I'm content to just hear their voices and see the occasional smiling pictures but don't long to have them back home?
I've pondered this question a lot lately. They've been gone 11 days today. Maybe it's because I know this respite has a finite time period; that they'll be back, larger than life, soon enough. Maybe it's because I welcome the peace that has settled over my house in the last 11 days. Maybe it's because Daddy-O and I realized this week that we don't fight when we don't have kids. We love each other when we don't have kids.
We will attempt to remember that once we DO have kids again.
Ah. That's better. Now, where was I? Ah, yes... I was having a birthday. Well, hell. That seems sooooo long ago.
You might be happy to know that I've made a mid-year's resolution. (Perhaps I'll be able to better ward off the New Year's Resolution Jinx this way.) I have resolved to renew my blogging. This past 6 months or so has been very stressful for me for no particular reason that I can determine (other than life, itself). Writing has always helped me sort through my feelings of anger, frustration, fear and inadequacy. For my own mental health, and the sanity of my family, I am back.
****************************
Today I would like to direct your attention to an interesting headline I ran across this morning.
1. Breast cancer treatments impact work status. Well, now. There's a news flash! And worse yet, the article was not much more enlightening.
****************************
In other news, I am reading my internet friend and co-blogger at Mothers With Cancer, Laurie Kingston's book, Not Done Yet: Living Through Breast Cancer. Laurie blogs over at Not Just About Cancer. I am sooooo loving her book and will be writing a review shortly.
****************************
Lastly, as our typical summer would have it, my boys are having an extended visit at Nana's house. I really miss them. In theory. Does it make me a bad mom if I'm content to just hear their voices and see the occasional smiling pictures but don't long to have them back home?
I've pondered this question a lot lately. They've been gone 11 days today. Maybe it's because I know this respite has a finite time period; that they'll be back, larger than life, soon enough. Maybe it's because I welcome the peace that has settled over my house in the last 11 days. Maybe it's because Daddy-O and I realized this week that we don't fight when we don't have kids. We love each other when we don't have kids.
We will attempt to remember that once we DO have kids again.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Happy Birthday to me!
This is what the modern-day, 43 year old, double mastected, two and one half year cancer thriver looks like!
I passed all my tests with flying colors. My bones scans were very bony. My CT was quite unremarkable. And my wonderful oncologist said I am just going to live forever. Forever. It has a nice ring to it. Well, perhaps not forever. I wouldn't want to outlive my bladder control, after all...
Some of my friends tip-toe around my age or suggest that I might be 39 this year with a conspiratorial wink. "Oh, no you don't!", I think to myself, "I earned this age! There was a time not long ago I didn't think I'd live to see it!" Besides, 39 was when I was diagnosed.
You can keep 39!!!!!
I'll take 43, and 44, and 50, and 60... any day!!!!!
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
Some of my friends tip-toe around my age or suggest that I might be 39 this year with a conspiratorial wink. "Oh, no you don't!", I think to myself, "I earned this age! There was a time not long ago I didn't think I'd live to see it!" Besides, 39 was when I was diagnosed.
You can keep 39!!!!!
I'll take 43, and 44, and 50, and 60... any day!!!!!
Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Ob la di, ob la da
I have not blogging much at all of late. There's a lot of good in that and a fair amount of bad as well. I've been busy as a one-armed paper hanger. Work is backed up. I'm rarely away from my desk. I'm not taking my breaks or walking like I should so my weight is creeping upwards ever so slowly. Of course, all that busy at work makes my days fly by, too. When I get home there is a whole other life that gets crammed into the few hours between 4:00 pm and 8:00 when the kids go to bed. There's Little League practice twice a week and now games twice a week as well. Therapy for Danny once a week. The ever present laundry and my FaceBook addiction. And filling every spare minute in between is my photography passion.
That's the good stuff. I've been too busy living life to spend much time blogging about it. On the negative side, I'm coming up on my 25,000 mile (2.5 year) check up. As always, I start worrying out of the blue. This time my location of concern is my right hip. It has been hurting for a couple of months now. But the last few weeks it's become so sore that it wakes me at night and I can barely walk up stairs. So this check up, I get a bonus bone scan!
Tomorrow is my chest/abdomen/pelvic CT. Thursday is my bone scan. Then I have to wait until the 14th (!) before I see my oncologist for the results. I'll never make it. I haven't even had the scans yet and I want to call for the results already. Yet, I hope I don't here from her office before my appointment, know what I mean????
Of course, when everything turns out to be just fine I will have made it two and a half years beyond treatment for Inflammatory Breast Cancer. THAT will be a post in and of itself.
In sadder news, Mothers With Cancer lost another of it's own this week. Alabama Pink (Manda) of Whoa, Camel! fame has lost her battle with leukemia. She leaves behind a beautiful 3 year old son, Alastair and the love of her life, Adrian. You can read about her passing on Adrian's blog Rainbows! Puppies! Leukemia. Say a little prayer today for Manda's family.
That's the good stuff. I've been too busy living life to spend much time blogging about it. On the negative side, I'm coming up on my 25,000 mile (2.5 year) check up. As always, I start worrying out of the blue. This time my location of concern is my right hip. It has been hurting for a couple of months now. But the last few weeks it's become so sore that it wakes me at night and I can barely walk up stairs. So this check up, I get a bonus bone scan!
Tomorrow is my chest/abdomen/pelvic CT. Thursday is my bone scan. Then I have to wait until the 14th (!) before I see my oncologist for the results. I'll never make it. I haven't even had the scans yet and I want to call for the results already. Yet, I hope I don't here from her office before my appointment, know what I mean????
Of course, when everything turns out to be just fine I will have made it two and a half years beyond treatment for Inflammatory Breast Cancer. THAT will be a post in and of itself.
In sadder news, Mothers With Cancer lost another of it's own this week. Alabama Pink (Manda) of Whoa, Camel! fame has lost her battle with leukemia. She leaves behind a beautiful 3 year old son, Alastair and the love of her life, Adrian. You can read about her passing on Adrian's blog Rainbows! Puppies! Leukemia. Say a little prayer today for Manda's family.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Family and friends
What a busy, busy week I have had. I've been away at a class for a week (one more to go) in Port Hueneme, CA. That's just south of Ventura for all you map types. The class, Contracting for Intermediate Mission Support, is sometimes kicking my butt. It's been a long, loooong time since I've had to pay this kind of attention to things. And the learning! Gah! It's exhausting. Also, exhilarating! I'd enjoy it more if it weren't for the pressure of tests and passing the class and all that stuff.
Over the weekend (can you believe I got a whole weekend without children???) I went to visit my family out in the Inland Empire. My Grammy had to have a pacemaker put in last week and my Grandpa is still in a rehab facility after his stroke in December. He just turned 90 years old last week. I stayed at my Aunt's house. On Saturday I went out to see my Grandparents.
Aging is difficult. It's hard to watch from the outside. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the individual. Transitions are never easy.
On my way back to school I stopped and had lunch with Mary Beth Volpini who also blogs over at Mothers With Cancer.
Mary Beth is every bit a charming and genuine in person as she is online. It was so wonderful to finally meet another of the wonderful MWC women. I wish I could meet each and every one. But now I've met Susan and Mary Beth... Two down, twenty-one to go.
Over the weekend (can you believe I got a whole weekend without children???) I went to visit my family out in the Inland Empire. My Grammy had to have a pacemaker put in last week and my Grandpa is still in a rehab facility after his stroke in December. He just turned 90 years old last week. I stayed at my Aunt's house. On Saturday I went out to see my Grandparents.
Aging is difficult. It's hard to watch from the outside. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the individual. Transitions are never easy.On my way back to school I stopped and had lunch with Mary Beth Volpini who also blogs over at Mothers With Cancer.
Mary Beth is every bit a charming and genuine in person as she is online. It was so wonderful to finally meet another of the wonderful MWC women. I wish I could meet each and every one. But now I've met Susan and Mary Beth... Two down, twenty-one to go.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
The Journey's the thing
Three years ago yesterday my whole world stopped. For a split second anyway. Before it was thrust into a strange slow-motion, fast-forward kaleidoscope of cancer treatment and regrets for a future with my children that might never be.
Is there and other phrase that has the same effect as "it's cancer"? What powerful, life-changing words those are. Normally I would think news of a close friend or relative's diagnosis would be worse than your own. But after careful consideration, I think it's far, far worse if it is oneself. Particularly, if you happen to be the mother of young children.
When I heard the words for the first time my heart stopped. Confirmation. My worst fear. I cried.
Was I crying for myself? The prospect of death. The stress of all the medical tests. The relief of finally knowing. The fear of an unknown future.
Was I crying for my kids? Losing their mother at such young ages (that was the only end I could see for them). The confusion and pain they would feel because of me. The scars they would always carry. How those scars would change their lives.
Was I crying for my mother? Hearing that one of your children may die (not a certainty in her context for some reason). Bearing powerless witness as the child you created fights for survival. The pain that would cause - the unnecessary burden.
All those thoughts rushed through my head at once, scorching a path as they passed. Quickly in and out. Shock left in their wake. Mental paralysis. Yet my fingers started typing. As the doctor's voice relayed test numbers and statistics through the phone to some walled-off portion of my brain, I tapped off an email to co-workers. "It's cancer." Even in shock I knew it would be less painful to type than to speak those dreaded words.
I don't know how long that call lasted, but there was a tight wall of support behind me as I put the phone in its cradle. I couldn't turn around. I felt marked. Marked for death. An object of pity. Not strong. Weak - in constitution and capability. A failure. I ran away from their concern like a coward .
~~~~~
All through my treatment, I never successfully shook those initial feelings of failure and weakness. I'd failed to remain healthy. I'd failed as a wife; cashing in the vows from our marriage. In sickness and health. Till death do us part. I'd failed as a mother. Would I see my boys grown? Would I leave Danny with a father stretched too thin from providing and filling both parental roles to adequately see to his therapies and education?
Yet I survived.
Chemotherapy made me realize what strength is... and that I have it. It gave me time to work through that onus of weakness and failure. Time to realize that God's plan was perfect - even for my children. Even if it means that they may have to live without me someday. It gave me time to appreciate my husband for the man that he is and not the one I sometimes wish he was. And to be grateful for those in my life that have always been there for me, and even more that stepped out of shadows and into my life. Mostly, it gave me time to acknowledge my life, my loves and my future... in all its incarnations.
I am so pleased to be here three years and one day later. I am proud of the journey I've made. I am grateful that I have been able to walk my boys through a difficult time and prepare them for others in the future. More grateful still that those future tragedies just might not include their mother.
When I look back at that afternoon in December 2005 I see myself consumed with fear. Today I have replaced that fear with power and action. Daddy-O still refuses to mention the "C" word by name, choosing instead to simply reference his worry from time to time, knowing I'll know exactly what he means. As for me, I talk about it often - stripping cancer's power and making it my own.
I am more than a Breast Cancer Survivor - I am a Thriver.
Is there and other phrase that has the same effect as "it's cancer"? What powerful, life-changing words those are. Normally I would think news of a close friend or relative's diagnosis would be worse than your own. But after careful consideration, I think it's far, far worse if it is oneself. Particularly, if you happen to be the mother of young children.
When I heard the words for the first time my heart stopped. Confirmation. My worst fear. I cried.
Was I crying for myself? The prospect of death. The stress of all the medical tests. The relief of finally knowing. The fear of an unknown future.
Was I crying for my kids? Losing their mother at such young ages (that was the only end I could see for them). The confusion and pain they would feel because of me. The scars they would always carry. How those scars would change their lives.
Was I crying for my mother? Hearing that one of your children may die (not a certainty in her context for some reason). Bearing powerless witness as the child you created fights for survival. The pain that would cause - the unnecessary burden.
All those thoughts rushed through my head at once, scorching a path as they passed. Quickly in and out. Shock left in their wake. Mental paralysis. Yet my fingers started typing. As the doctor's voice relayed test numbers and statistics through the phone to some walled-off portion of my brain, I tapped off an email to co-workers. "It's cancer." Even in shock I knew it would be less painful to type than to speak those dreaded words.
I don't know how long that call lasted, but there was a tight wall of support behind me as I put the phone in its cradle. I couldn't turn around. I felt marked. Marked for death. An object of pity. Not strong. Weak - in constitution and capability. A failure. I ran away from their concern like a coward .
~~~~~
All through my treatment, I never successfully shook those initial feelings of failure and weakness. I'd failed to remain healthy. I'd failed as a wife; cashing in the vows from our marriage. In sickness and health. Till death do us part. I'd failed as a mother. Would I see my boys grown? Would I leave Danny with a father stretched too thin from providing and filling both parental roles to adequately see to his therapies and education?
Yet I survived.
Chemotherapy made me realize what strength is... and that I have it. It gave me time to work through that onus of weakness and failure. Time to realize that God's plan was perfect - even for my children. Even if it means that they may have to live without me someday. It gave me time to appreciate my husband for the man that he is and not the one I sometimes wish he was. And to be grateful for those in my life that have always been there for me, and even more that stepped out of shadows and into my life. Mostly, it gave me time to acknowledge my life, my loves and my future... in all its incarnations.
I am so pleased to be here three years and one day later. I am proud of the journey I've made. I am grateful that I have been able to walk my boys through a difficult time and prepare them for others in the future. More grateful still that those future tragedies just might not include their mother.
When I look back at that afternoon in December 2005 I see myself consumed with fear. Today I have replaced that fear with power and action. Daddy-O still refuses to mention the "C" word by name, choosing instead to simply reference his worry from time to time, knowing I'll know exactly what he means. As for me, I talk about it often - stripping cancer's power and making it my own.
I am more than a Breast Cancer Survivor - I am a Thriver.
Friday, December 19, 2008
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:
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:
- A persistent headache with or without vomiting.
- Seizures (Change in type or frequency )
- Double vision, mental changes, speech difficulty.
- Stroke (brain hemorrhage). Certain brain metastases, such as melanoma, renal carcinoma, and choriocarcinoma bleed easily.
- Confusion
- Any numbness, arm or leg weakness, back pain, difficulty walking.
- Loss of control of bowel or bladder.
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.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Pretty In Pink
You may have noticed the blog renovation... If you guessed that the new color scheme is all in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month then you must spend too much time reading blogs, talking to me or sitting in an oncologist's office. Or maybe all of the above...
You will be bombarded this month by pink ribbons, media stories on breast cancer tragedies and triumphs and products on every aisle in every store asking you to contribute to the cause, finding a cure. That's all wonderful. The publicity is needed - welcomed, in fact.
Just don't let it stop there. Please don't sit on your couch watching a news story about a young mother losing her battle with Breast Cancer and cry into your tissue. Then turn off the TV and think it can never happen to you.
I was 39 when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I had an 8 month old baby. My mother was diagnosed 6 months after I was. My friend, also a young mother, had two different kinds of Breast Cancer at the same time.
If you do nothing else, do your self breast exams. Know your body. If you detect a change at all, go see your doctor. It's so much better to leave the doctor's office feeling foolish for worrying... then to leave in shock with those words ringing in your ears. Breast Cancer.
You will be bombarded this month by pink ribbons, media stories on breast cancer tragedies and triumphs and products on every aisle in every store asking you to contribute to the cause, finding a cure. That's all wonderful. The publicity is needed - welcomed, in fact.
Just don't let it stop there. Please don't sit on your couch watching a news story about a young mother losing her battle with Breast Cancer and cry into your tissue. Then turn off the TV and think it can never happen to you.
I was 39 when I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I had an 8 month old baby. My mother was diagnosed 6 months after I was. My friend, also a young mother, had two different kinds of Breast Cancer at the same time.
If you do nothing else, do your self breast exams. Know your body. If you detect a change at all, go see your doctor. It's so much better to leave the doctor's office feeling foolish for worrying... then to leave in shock with those words ringing in your ears. Breast Cancer.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Countdown
It's that time of year again. The end of fiscal year. The time of year that all Federal Government Contracting employees work until the money is alllllll gone. Day and night. Weekdays. Weekends. Did I mention we don't get overtime? One of the great ironies of Federal employment is that we do not fall under federal labor laws. Instead, we get "comp time", an hour off for an hour worked.
At any rate, In just 8 short days, I will get my life back. Just in time for October, aka National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Working towards my new focus, bringing Breast Cancer out of the shadows and into the light, I will be hosting a fund raiser for Young Survival Coalition.
I thought about doing a walk, or (gulp) a run... But any one that knows me would recognize that as a pipe dream. So I decided to go with what I know. Beverages. Namely, the adult kind. And it just so happens that YSC is sponsoring a Drink Pink, Think Pink campaign. So, I am going to throw a Pink Cocktail Party!
I'm just so excited. The very thought of a pretty pink Pomegranate Martini just might get me through the next eight days...
At any rate, In just 8 short days, I will get my life back. Just in time for October, aka National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Working towards my new focus, bringing Breast Cancer out of the shadows and into the light, I will be hosting a fund raiser for Young Survival Coalition.
I thought about doing a walk, or (gulp) a run... But any one that knows me would recognize that as a pipe dream. So I decided to go with what I know. Beverages. Namely, the adult kind. And it just so happens that YSC is sponsoring a Drink Pink, Think Pink campaign. So, I am going to throw a Pink Cocktail Party!
I'm just so excited. The very thought of a pretty pink Pomegranate Martini just might get me through the next eight days...
Monday, September 1, 2008
How to be happy in spite of it all, part 1
Just after I returned to work after breast cancer treatment, a co-worker paid me an incredible compliment. She told me that I had handled my diagnosis and treatment with (I am paraphrasing here with all the accuracy Chemo-Brain permits) incredible grace and, well, I can't remember what else, but it was good. The general idea was that I had a wonderfully positive attitude that continued to astound those around me.
I pshawed her, of course. Because, there was nothing graceful about my actions nor reactions. Nothing heroic. Nothing brave. At least I didn't think so. I was just doing what I had always done during trying times. What I had watched my mother do before me. And my grandmother before her. I put on a happy face.
Sounds simple doesn't it? Or maybe you're thinking simplistic is more like it. Well, you're probably right. When others began asking me exactly how I stayed so positive in the face of a daunting cancer diagnosis and 90% recurrence risk, right on the heals of my finding out my infant was born blind, well, I couldn't explain it. At least not in terms of usable information. It's just something I'd been raised doing. I didn't know quite how to explain the process.
Then I found The Bounce Back Book, by Karen Salmansohn a few weeks ago. It's a short little self-help book, more along the lines of a pocket manual than a book, but it certainly clarified things for me. Salmansohn has a knack for doing exactly what I could not; break down the process of having and maintaining a positive attitude.
In her book, Salmansohn offers 75 tips for "thriving in the face of adversity, setbacks, and losses." Many of these tips are a bit redundant, merely rewording the same advice to fit a slightly different situation. Sometimes that's what it takes, however, for understanding to register. Hearing something many, many different ways. I don't mean for this to be a book review, yet if I had a friend going through a rough patch and looking for a way to fight negativity, I'd consider sending The Bounce Back Book. We could all learn a bit from it's pages.
For my purposes here, I will tell you what I took away from this book. That is, I will share with you those behaviors (as identified by Salmansohn) that I have practiced over the years and feel contributed to my success in overcoming the more negative crap life has thrown my way.
The Formula
Each of us has a genetic tendency toward optimism or pessimism, according to The Happiness Project in the U.K. This, however, only accounts for about 50% of our personal happiness equation. The rest is all about what you do and the choices you make. Dr. Jonathan Haidt even came up with a fancy, schmancy formula to become happier. And he's a Positive Psychologist, or a positive psychologist (I'm not sure which-but I think it might make a difference) so he ought to know.
I pshawed her, of course. Because, there was nothing graceful about my actions nor reactions. Nothing heroic. Nothing brave. At least I didn't think so. I was just doing what I had always done during trying times. What I had watched my mother do before me. And my grandmother before her. I put on a happy face.
Sounds simple doesn't it? Or maybe you're thinking simplistic is more like it. Well, you're probably right. When others began asking me exactly how I stayed so positive in the face of a daunting cancer diagnosis and 90% recurrence risk, right on the heals of my finding out my infant was born blind, well, I couldn't explain it. At least not in terms of usable information. It's just something I'd been raised doing. I didn't know quite how to explain the process.
Then I found The Bounce Back Book, by Karen Salmansohn a few weeks ago. It's a short little self-help book, more along the lines of a pocket manual than a book, but it certainly clarified things for me. Salmansohn has a knack for doing exactly what I could not; break down the process of having and maintaining a positive attitude.
In her book, Salmansohn offers 75 tips for "thriving in the face of adversity, setbacks, and losses." Many of these tips are a bit redundant, merely rewording the same advice to fit a slightly different situation. Sometimes that's what it takes, however, for understanding to register. Hearing something many, many different ways. I don't mean for this to be a book review, yet if I had a friend going through a rough patch and looking for a way to fight negativity, I'd consider sending The Bounce Back Book. We could all learn a bit from it's pages.
For my purposes here, I will tell you what I took away from this book. That is, I will share with you those behaviors (as identified by Salmansohn) that I have practiced over the years and feel contributed to my success in overcoming the more negative crap life has thrown my way.
The Formula
Each of us has a genetic tendency toward optimism or pessimism, according to The Happiness Project in the U.K. This, however, only accounts for about 50% of our personal happiness equation. The rest is all about what you do and the choices you make. Dr. Jonathan Haidt even came up with a fancy, schmancy formula to become happier. And he's a Positive Psychologist, or a positive psychologist (I'm not sure which-but I think it might make a difference) so he ought to know.
H = S + C + V
H = happiness level C = current conditions
I happen to think Dr. Haidt is on to something.
Family
About that genetic predisposition towards happiness, or not. I guess I must have it. We're real Nietzsche people in my family, "What does not kill us, makes us stronger." And boy, oh, boy, have we been getting stronger in my lifetime. I've always remembered my Mom laughing off the bad times. She always found the humor in life when I was growing up and still does to this day.
Humor saved the day when I was fourteen years old, sitting in the front row in front of my Father's casket with the rest of my family at his funeral. As you can imagine, it had been a stressful few days after he'd died, no matter how expected his death was. We, as a family, have always turned to humor in times of stress. True to form, when we noticed that the florist's shop had placed an arrangement directly in front of my Mom's chair that was completely bug-eaten, we just couldn't stop the giggles. I'm sure the entire congregation behind us thought we were sobbing uncontrollably, in reality, we were shaking from trying not to laugh out loud.
We're sort of wacked, I know. But that outlook has served us well, over the years. In general, we try to always see the humor in a situation. One of my very first comments after my cancer diagnosis, which came close to Christmas 2005, was that I wouldn't have to worry about what I ate over the holidays because I was starting the Chemo Diet come January!! Woohoo! Holidays, here I come!
My family could have focused on the loss of my dad, instead we chose to break an overwhelming situation down into more manageable pieces. We focused on the insect-riddled flowers to get through the funeral.
H = happiness level C = current conditions
S = set point for happiness V = voluntary activities
I happen to think Dr. Haidt is on to something.
Family
About that genetic predisposition towards happiness, or not. I guess I must have it. We're real Nietzsche people in my family, "What does not kill us, makes us stronger." And boy, oh, boy, have we been getting stronger in my lifetime. I've always remembered my Mom laughing off the bad times. She always found the humor in life when I was growing up and still does to this day.
Humor saved the day when I was fourteen years old, sitting in the front row in front of my Father's casket with the rest of my family at his funeral. As you can imagine, it had been a stressful few days after he'd died, no matter how expected his death was. We, as a family, have always turned to humor in times of stress. True to form, when we noticed that the florist's shop had placed an arrangement directly in front of my Mom's chair that was completely bug-eaten, we just couldn't stop the giggles. I'm sure the entire congregation behind us thought we were sobbing uncontrollably, in reality, we were shaking from trying not to laugh out loud.
We're sort of wacked, I know. But that outlook has served us well, over the years. In general, we try to always see the humor in a situation. One of my very first comments after my cancer diagnosis, which came close to Christmas 2005, was that I wouldn't have to worry about what I ate over the holidays because I was starting the Chemo Diet come January!! Woohoo! Holidays, here I come!
My family could have focused on the loss of my dad, instead we chose to break an overwhelming situation down into more manageable pieces. We focused on the insect-riddled flowers to get through the funeral.
Similarly, I chose to see the diet-free holiday season as a silver lining instead of the dark cloud that was a cancer diagnosis. The cloud hadn't blown away and my dad was still gone but my outlook on the world was much more positive for my efforts.
Cross posted at Mothers with Cancer
Friday, August 29, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
If I could save time in a bottle...
One of my new co-blogger friends has been victimized. She was given hope for a cure for her cancer. A radical new surgery, Pelvic Exenteration, was set before her like a glass of cool, sweet water to one dying of thirst. A cure. Hope against hope. Life with her 6 year old son. A future.
But like water in the desert it proved to be a mirage. Her cancer has already spread beyond her pelvic cavity, up towards her liver. This radical surgery in which she will lose so much of herself, cannot cure her any longer. It is too late for that. And it cannot give her greater longevity. Time, is the most precious of commodities.
What it can give her is quality of life in the time she has left.
A consolation prize at best.
Jen is feeling understandably down this week. Stop by and read her powerful words upon receiving this disappointing news and offer her support and encouragement.
But like water in the desert it proved to be a mirage. Her cancer has already spread beyond her pelvic cavity, up towards her liver. This radical surgery in which she will lose so much of herself, cannot cure her any longer. It is too late for that. And it cannot give her greater longevity. Time, is the most precious of commodities.
What it can give her is quality of life in the time she has left.
A consolation prize at best.
Jen is feeling understandably down this week. Stop by and read her powerful words upon receiving this disappointing news and offer her support and encouragement.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Laugh Cancer Into Submission
Laugh, and the world laughs with you.
Cry, and you find yourself all alone in your room.
What? Is that only at my house?
Humor is the lubricant of life. It eases our way through tight situations, keeps the friction from getting so hot that it causes permanent damage and generally allows for smoother interaction between all the parts that make up our hectic lives.
Humor, it can be said, is a miracle fix-all.
Toward that end, Young Survival Coalition and Stand Up to Cancer (SU2C) are combining their significant resources and those of ABC, NBC and CBS to air a fund raiser on Friday, September 5, 2008. Money will go toward all the cutting edge research we read about in the news. Research the government doesn't want to fund. Research that will save lives.
We are so close to a cure for cancer. So close. Close enough to a cure that our children may not ever have to worry about dying from over-producing, vagrant cells that overtake healthy cells and kill them. Close enough that many cancers are already considered "chronic diseases" instead of terminal.
Close enough that even the little bit of money that I am able to spare can help the cause.
Won't you please help, too?
Mark your calendars. Program your TiVo or DVR. 8:00 p.m., Friday, September 5, 2008. Help laugh cancer into submission!!!
Cry, and you find yourself all alone in your room.
What? Is that only at my house?
Humor is the lubricant of life. It eases our way through tight situations, keeps the friction from getting so hot that it causes permanent damage and generally allows for smoother interaction between all the parts that make up our hectic lives.
Humor, it can be said, is a miracle fix-all.
Toward that end, Young Survival Coalition and Stand Up to Cancer (SU2C) are combining their significant resources and those of ABC, NBC and CBS to air a fund raiser on Friday, September 5, 2008. Money will go toward all the cutting edge research we read about in the news. Research the government doesn't want to fund. Research that will save lives.
We are so close to a cure for cancer. So close. Close enough to a cure that our children may not ever have to worry about dying from over-producing, vagrant cells that overtake healthy cells and kill them. Close enough that many cancers are already considered "chronic diseases" instead of terminal.
Close enough that even the little bit of money that I am able to spare can help the cause.
Won't you please help, too?
Mark your calendars. Program your TiVo or DVR. 8:00 p.m., Friday, September 5, 2008. Help laugh cancer into submission!!!
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Ten Thousand Words
I am a baaaaaaad blogger. I have neglected my blog in favor of other blogs, work, friends, family and miscellaneous recreating. Well, it is summer after all.
I did get a highly anticipated new camera. It is my Stimulus Camera (bought with my gov't stimulus check) and I love it - even if I don't know how to work it very well yet. So in honor of my new favorite toy I offer you a pictorial diary of the past 11 days.
Go ahead. Get some popcorn. I'll wait.
12 JULY 2008
First, our new kitty I told you about, Razzmataz. We got her on a Thursday evening.
On Saturday afternoon D was opening and closing the door like he likes to do (a lot) and she got out. I didn't want to spook her by trying to chase her down so I just let her check things out. I was pretty certain she'd come home. And she did. Just before dark. Unfortunately, our other cat met her at the property line and laid down the law. Apparently, we are now, and shall forever be, a one cat family.
I have seen Razzmataz around the neighborhood. She looks well fed and happy but scrams at the merest sight of me. D, of course, speaks of her as if she has never left.
18 JULY 2008
I spent an hour trying to get to know my new camera. This is Morro Rock from the bay by my house.
19 JULY 2008
And this is the same evening, from across the estuary. I used the warm color setting. What a difference!
This is Daddy-O and I at my friend Raj's wedding. Doesn't he look hot? Well, I thought so, anyway. Except for the part where any food that came within 2 feet of him jumped onto his shirt, he was completely sexy all night. If you look closely in the picture I am using my boobs to hide his stains - and the bride & groom hadn't even arrived at the reception yet!!!
It was a wonderful wedding. Even though I had to sneak in while everyone was standing for Mindy to walk down the aisle... Daddy-O might have made it for the vows, I'm not sure. He had to park the car. I made up for the extra stress of being late (I hate that) by drinking happily at the reception. The perfect evening weather, beautiful beach and all the wedding cake and beverages elicited promises of car sex for Daddy-O on the way home.
Unfortunately, Daddy-O was a bit anxious to leave and it was still light. This is the view from the lookout above Pirate's Cove (our local nudist beach). We were here looking for a parking spot. HINT: Pirate's Cove is not a good spot for ahem. It is an incredibly busy location.
So we called around and went to the B&B around the corner from our house. There is nothing like a MIL at home to ruin a good rowdy round of wedding sex.
20 JULY 2008
The next day we did a little parking of a different kind.
21-24 JULY 2008
Work. Last week of preschool. More work. Blah, blah, blah. Such an interference with real life.
25 JULY 2008
Last night Daddy-O, D and I went to the Mid-State Fair. We had a blast & didn't get home until after midnight. Steely Dan was playing on the main grandstand. Watching all the kids run around the carnival brought back so many memories of high school. It was a great night.
26 JULY 2008
Today was a beach day with my ILs. The day could not have been more perfect. Warm with just enough of a breeze to keep it nice - but not sandblast us.
I thought I looked soooooooo much better in this suit. I may just throw it away now. I bought it 30 pounds ago. To my horror, I am now wondering just how awful I must have looked in it then. Gah!
This picture just makes me smile. D is a gem. How could you ever be sad or grumpy with that smiley face around. I love him too much.
And that is that.
I did get a highly anticipated new camera. It is my Stimulus Camera (bought with my gov't stimulus check) and I love it - even if I don't know how to work it very well yet. So in honor of my new favorite toy I offer you a pictorial diary of the past 11 days.
Go ahead. Get some popcorn. I'll wait.
12 JULY 2008
First, our new kitty I told you about, Razzmataz. We got her on a Thursday evening.
On Saturday afternoon D was opening and closing the door like he likes to do (a lot) and she got out. I didn't want to spook her by trying to chase her down so I just let her check things out. I was pretty certain she'd come home. And she did. Just before dark. Unfortunately, our other cat met her at the property line and laid down the law. Apparently, we are now, and shall forever be, a one cat family.I have seen Razzmataz around the neighborhood. She looks well fed and happy but scrams at the merest sight of me. D, of course, speaks of her as if she has never left.
18 JULY 2008
I spent an hour trying to get to know my new camera. This is Morro Rock from the bay by my house.
19 JULY 2008
And this is the same evening, from across the estuary. I used the warm color setting. What a difference!
This is Daddy-O and I at my friend Raj's wedding. Doesn't he look hot? Well, I thought so, anyway. Except for the part where any food that came within 2 feet of him jumped onto his shirt, he was completely sexy all night. If you look closely in the picture I am using my boobs to hide his stains - and the bride & groom hadn't even arrived at the reception yet!!!It was a wonderful wedding. Even though I had to sneak in while everyone was standing for Mindy to walk down the aisle... Daddy-O might have made it for the vows, I'm not sure. He had to park the car. I made up for the extra stress of being late (I hate that) by drinking happily at the reception. The perfect evening weather, beautiful beach and all the wedding cake and beverages elicited promises of car sex for Daddy-O on the way home.
Unfortunately, Daddy-O was a bit anxious to leave and it was still light. This is the view from the lookout above Pirate's Cove (our local nudist beach). We were here looking for a parking spot. HINT: Pirate's Cove is not a good spot for ahem. It is an incredibly busy location.So we called around and went to the B&B around the corner from our house. There is nothing like a MIL at home to ruin a good rowdy round of wedding sex.
20 JULY 2008
The next day we did a little parking of a different kind.
21-24 JULY 2008
Work. Last week of preschool. More work. Blah, blah, blah. Such an interference with real life.
25 JULY 2008
Last night Daddy-O, D and I went to the Mid-State Fair. We had a blast & didn't get home until after midnight. Steely Dan was playing on the main grandstand. Watching all the kids run around the carnival brought back so many memories of high school. It was a great night.26 JULY 2008
Today was a beach day with my ILs. The day could not have been more perfect. Warm with just enough of a breeze to keep it nice - but not sandblast us.
I thought I looked soooooooo much better in this suit. I may just throw it away now. I bought it 30 pounds ago. To my horror, I am now wondering just how awful I must have looked in it then. Gah!
This picture just makes me smile. D is a gem. How could you ever be sad or grumpy with that smiley face around. I love him too much.And that is that.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies
Today was my seventh 3-month follow-up oncology appointment. For those of you who don't feel like doing the math this late in the day, that's 21 months post-treatment. 21 months No Evidence of Disease (NED). 21 months of living life. Of course, there is always bad with the good. It was also 21 months of waiting for that other shoe to drop. 21 months of worry. 21 months of mental Do Before I Die lists and At My Funeral Memorial Service lists.
I did get a clean bill of health today. My blood work was all normal. My lymph nodes were all fine. I have no bone pain, pulmonary issues nor headaches beyond the norm. In short, I rock Survivorship! Knock wood.
This 3-month appointment was different than the others, however. This time, I asked questions. This time I wanted more than a checkup. I wanted information too.
I've already shared that I purposely avoided IBC information while I was undergoing treatment and why (read all about it in my memoirs, Why bad Focal Points Happen To Good People) also that I don't have a great track record with asking my doctor cancer questions. The last time I worked up the gumption to ask a scary question I DID NOT like the answer. Can you say 90% recurrence risk?
So I started small, with the nurse who took my blood pressure when I asked her to make copies of my pathology reports. I've somehow lost them over the last 2 years. (Besides, amazingly enough, the details were fading and I was no longer sure I had my facts straight.) Wow. She came right back with them. She didn't even tell me I would need to pay a small fee for copies like the old office. So far so good.
When Dr. Villa came in we hugged and I showed her the new pictures of the boys. Then I told her all about this site and how excited I am about it. She asked for flyers or cards - which I have not made yet. My bad. Then we got down to business. Thanks to posting here I've developed the courage to ask the questions I've been wanting to ask for a long time.
I asked her about the original statistics she had given me about recurrence. She had told me most recurrence occurs at 2 and 5 years. And I'm coming up on the 2 year mark. She said that she had forgotten that I was triple negative when she had given me those numbers. The figures for triple negative breast cancer are more like 12 to 18 months. But I am beyond that. And that is very, very good. Perhaps, she says, you've fallen into that niche of ones who sneak through.
More good news. This was working out better than I'd hoped. So I asked about the infamous Cancer 5 Year Mark. "Does that hold true for Inflammatory Breast Cancer also?"
"I'm going to say 'yes'," she said. Yes? Yes! Yowza! Something to work towards!
And I asked about preventive clinical trials that I may qualify for. There are none at the moment. It's nice to know she's keeping her eyes open for me. I've wondered about that for a while now. She did mention two new bits of research that she wants to keep in mind for me.
We will check my Vitamin D level with my next blood work. Studies have shown that breast cancer patients who are deficient in Vitamin D have almost double the chance of a recurrence or spread over 10 years time and are 73% (!) more likely to die. Holy cow!!! It's not about drinking milk. It's about getting 15 minutes in the sunshine without sunscreen daily. Do it! 73% is too huge a risk not to.
She's also closely watching Avastin for it's benefits in preventing recurrence.
I had read about both when they came out so it's nice to know I'm keeping up well enough on my own.
I want to send a big Thank You to every one of the women at Mothers With Cancer. The sisterhood that is forming before my eyes is already having its effects. Empowerment. Strength. And this is only the beginning.
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