A Promise to Catch Up

When I began this journey, I was very open and honest with you in my thoughts, feelings and experiences.  As my health declined during my treatments, I stopped writing.  I still felt your thoughts and prayers, but it almost came to the point that if I was living it, I didn't want to write about it, too.

Now that I'm older (and hopefully wiser), menopausal and growing more "hair bling" (that's what a friend calls gray hairs),  I realize that in some ways it was just the cowardly way of dealing with things.  In an attempt to "catch you up", I will try to cover the events of the last year, in my journey with breast cancer.  After 19 months with this journey, I still wait for the day to be told that I am "cancer free", but so far, that has not happened. I have learned not to sweat the small stuff, (except when I'm having a hot flash!) and live every day as a gift.

TTFN
-S

P.S.  Have you had your mammogram recently?

The Difference One Year Makes

I love the community that I live in.  In many ways, it feels like a little chunk of Middle Georgia was carved out, modernized it a bit, but somehow managed to keep the  important "Hometown Pride".  The community takes ownership of its' events and causes...like Relay for Life.

With great pride, I say that our "Relay for Life" event is a big deal.  The whole town turns out to show their support!  Schools, churches, businesses and civic groups all have their themed tables, as team members gather round the JCHS track to show their support for the American Cancer Society. The local newspaper even prints a special supplement for the newspaper!

As I prepare to attend this year's Relay for Life event this evening, things will be different.  I'm not going to watch my children or students perform.  I'm not going to support my school's team, see my friends, or entertain my children for a few hours.  Tonight, I'm attending my first "Relay for Life" as a survivor.  I will participate in the survivor's lap, with my family continuing to support me as the wonderful caregivers they have been.  There will be luminaries lit with my name on them.

RFL chains were sold at my school as a fundraiser.

This morning, as I took my children to the babysitter's before school, Griffen made a statement that had a profound impact on me.  As we passed the Relay for Life site, he said, "Mom, you know this year, you are a survivor!"  The past eight months have been a roller coaster ride that most can only imagine.  Since I heard those words, "you have cancer", I've been cut on, drained, poisoned, pumped full of steroids, burned to a crisp, and lost all of my hair.  There have been tears shed some days, and laughter heard on others...but I have always felt supported. Due to the lymph node involvement of my breast cancer, my oncologist can not tell me I'm cancer free.  There could be rouge cancer cells still floating around in my body, but I am choosing not to dwell upon that possibility (even though it's always lurking in the back of my mind).  Just as Griffen said, I am a survivor!

This evening, when my family attends Jones County's Relay for Life, it will be my first.  My first event as a cancer survivor. Oh, what a difference one year can make.  Just like last year, I will proudly wear my Jones County Relay for Life shirt, but I'll have something new...my wig!

Just like Spongebob, I'm Ready...for all of this to be over!

I'd like to start of with an apology...I'm sorry for the lapse of time between my blog posts.  One day led to a week, to a month, and then over two months.  You have all been so supportive, and I failed in keeping you updated.  Please accept my apology.

My children like Spongebob.  If you don't know who Spongebob is, consider yourself fortunate.  Personally, I have never been a big fan of the "who lives in a pineapple under the sea" (that's from the opening theme song) yellow underwater creature who serves crabby patties and continually does silly things, but Arleigh and Griffen enjoy watching it.  Even amongst his mindless antics, Spongebob attacks every task with enthusiasm, a positive attitude, and continually repeats, "I'm Ready!". 

Lately, I've been feeling like Spongebob.  I wish I embodied the positive attitude and enthusiasm part of his character, but I AM READY!  Ready for this ordeal to be over with.  Ready for my life to be "back to normal" (which I wonder if it ever will?) Ready for my schedule not to revolve around medical appointments, whether or not I'm able to go to work, what symptoms I need to get ready for, and what medications I need to take.  I'm ready for it to end...but unfortunately it won't for some time.

Five rounds of chemotherapy have been completed.  There are six rounds in my prescribed treatment, and today should have been my final round...but it's not.  Adelia was one of four JCHS students selected to represent Jones County at the University of Georgia's January High School Band Festival this week, in Athens.  The final concert will be held this Sunday, and if I had chemo treatment today, I certainly would not have been able to attend.  Fortunately for my family, my oncologist postponed my final treatment until next week.  I am very excited that we will be able to travel to Bulldog Country this weekend and attend the JanFest Concert.  For a few more days, I get to pretend that I am normal.

It also means that I get an extra week of feeling good! My chemo side-effects have remained about the same.  Some symptoms have gotten better, while others have worsened.  The nausea is controlled fairly well with medication.  Thrush and mouth sores are lessened by taking anti-viral and anti-fungal medications.  Fatigue has worsened with each round, as have body aches and flu-like symptoms from the treatment drugs and Neulasta injections.  Around round three, I developed a drippy-runny nose.  I joke with my family and co-workers that my brain is leaking!  A thin, clear, watery-like substance drips from my right nostril, and my right eye waters often.  Guess what???  Yet another side-effect from chemotherapy, along with swelling of my hands and feet.  (Wait a minute and let me go get another tissue...forgive me for being crude, but it's so annoying that if I could figure out a way to put a female sanitary item up my nose, I would.  That gave you a pretty good visual, didn't it?)

One of the biggest reasons I am ready to be finished with chemotherapy is I'm so tired of the drugs.  Not just because of the IV poisons, but because of the other drugs I have to take.  In order to lessen my side effects, since round two, I have been taking double steroids each round, for a total of five days each time.  On my last day of steroids, I have to begin taking seven days of an antibiotic.  Amongst that I'm taking medications for nausea, headache, diarrhea and thrush.  It's a wonder that I don't rattle as much medicine as I have to take, for I truly feel like a walking pill-bottle!

When I first received my intial diagnosis, I was trying to look for the bright side of it, and the only one I thought of was, "Gee, I'll actually be on a diet that works...the Cancer Diet!"  (I mean no disrespect to friends and loved ones on this diet.)  Just my luck though, even the Cancer Diet doesn't work for me.  In fact, a great number of chemotherapy breast cancer patients gain weight during their treatment, due to the steroids.  That's the category that I have fallen into, as well as many of the women I've encountered over the past few months at Georgia Cancer Specialists.  One would think that at least the silver lining through all of this could be a few pounds shed, wouldn't you?  As I encounter people, they say "Oh, you look so good!"  I really wonder if in their minds they are thinking, "She hasn't lost any weight...don't people on chemo loose weight?" 

Throughout this entire process so far, I know that I am truly blessed.  Blessed with a wonderful family.  Blessed with wonderful friends and co-workers.  Blessed with God's grace and comfort, and Blessed with your prayers and support.  In the scheme of things, I am almost finished with phase two of this journey.  Phase one was my surgery.  Phase two is chemotherapy.  Phase three is radiation.  Four is my preventative surgery / reconstruction, and  five is a five-year regime of an estrogen recpetor blocker, like Tamoxifen.  It has not been an easy road, but it could have been worse...  Regardless, I'm ready!

Thank you again for your continued prayers and support!

TTFN,
-S

Same Song, Second Verse...Much Louder and Could Have Been Worse!

The Princess Host

Remember the corny camp song we used to sing, "Same song, second verse...a little bit louder and a whole lot worse?"  After the ordeal of my first chemo (or the parts that I was coherent enough to remember), I was really worried that I would be singing that tune after my second round of chemotherapy. Things started off better than last time, until IT hit.  IT, was a nasty, pestilent stomach bug that arrived in the Henderson household, via a 4-year old princess! (Shown on the left, after she recovered, but prior to the detonation of the bomb on the rest of the house.)


My second chemo treatment was much better than the first one, primarily because there should not be anything "unexpected", as related to my treatment.  My amazing father was present for this treatment.  (I am so blessed to have my parents available to support me during my journey!)  Shown on the right is the sterile kit that the nurse gets for accessing my port, which has surgical gloves, cleaning swabs, access port, saline for flushing, etc...  You'll also see the blood vials that she fills up for CBC counts and whatever other blood work that Jeff (my Oncology-Certified Nurse Practioner) orders.  I haven't send Dr. Jones in a while, but that's good news.  As long as my appointments are with Jeff, then it means treatment is good (or so I'm told).

Four Bags of Pre-Meds

Prior to receiving my chemo drugs, I was given four different bags of pre-medications.  These were anti-nausea drugs and steroids to reduce the side effects of the drugs.  Definitely a strange concept, but oh well...let's give Shelby drugs and drugs, to help counteract the drugs we give her!  Even though my appointment was early, an unforeseen emergency at the Oncologists' office had everything off schedule.  So much, that I was stressing (me stress, never!  LOL) there would not be time to complete both my chemo and iron infusion.

I was able to receive both my chemotherapy and my iron within about six hours.  Here is a photograph of one of my nurses, Angie, and the nurses station portion of the chemotherapy treatment room.   Note the televisions positioned around the rooms.  I did spend some of my time watching "The Princess Bride", but also had to endure Kelly & Regis, Dr. Phil, Price is Right, WMAZ at Noon, Young and the Restless and even The Talk on this visit!

Since it took such a long time to get both my chemotherapy regime and my iron infusion, I was the last patient in the treatment room.  If you look at the photograph, you'll note the empty chairs, as well as the rust-colored iron infusion going into my veins!

Chemotherapy side effects were much better this time, until Monday morning hit.  As Halloween day progressed, the nausea became increasingly worse, as did the vomiting.  (Descriptive, but I'm keeping it real!).  I called the doctor (and had to pass the phone to Daddy for another epsidode while on the phone.)  More antiemetics were prescribed, and I was told to come into the office the next day for more fluids.  Saying I was hit by a truck was an understatement, and we kept wondering why it waited until day 5 to happen.

The FBI Intern

There was no trick-or-treating for my children..only a horrible, evil biological warfare trick.  (Arleigh never did even put on her princess witch costume, but at least Griffen got to wear his to school!)  About 7 p.m., we found our answer.  Arleigh's illness over the weekend was not related to bouncy-houses and blue cotton candy indulgence as thought, but a stomach virus from the depths of Hell.  By Monday evening, not only was I sick, but so were Adelia and Griffen.  As a parent, we have visions or frightening flashbacks of this happening to our children.  How can they be in separate bedrooms, and still manage to vomit simultaneously?  Jeff left Monday morning for his normal business travels, but even he was not unscathed.  Once again, thank God for my wonderful father, who went over and beyond taking care of all of us.

It is now Thursday, and I received fluids on Tuesday at the treatment center.  I still have waves of nausea (and can't watch Food Network, yet), but everyday is getting better.  This coincided with the days that my White Count is low, and I was unable to work during days 7-10.  House arrest or not, I couldn't leave the house if I had to!  The Henderson household isn't back to singing yet, but maybe we're almost there!  Wonder what tune the third verse will be sung too?

TTFN,
-S
P.S.  I love my Daddy!

10 Things To Know About My Chemo

Since I haven't been able to keep up my posts in a timely manner, I thought that I would summarize everything that's been going on...so, here are "10 Things To Know About My Chemo".

1.  My chemotherapy combination is referred to as "TAC".  TAC is Taxotere (docetaxel), Adriamycin (doxorubicin) and Cytoxan (cyclophosphamide).  Click on the name of the drug to read all of the scary, scary facts about each drug poison.

2.  My doctor has prescribed six chemotherapy treatments, which are administered every 21 days.  My first chemotherapy infusion was October 6.  The second one will be administered October 27, and the next one should then be November 18.  Day 1 of cycle 1 is known as day 1-1.  Day 18 of cycle 2 will be known as day 2-18, etc...Thursdays are also good, as I have to go back into the office the Friday after chemo is administered, for an additional injection.

 

3.  We chose Thursday for as my chemo / doctor appointment day.  By receiving my infusion on Thursday, that allows for me to have Friday and the weekend to deal with the lovely side effects of the poison cancer-killing agents.  I also have to come in weekly for blood count checks (days 8, 15), so in essence, that involves going into the doctor's office every Thursday.

4.  The power-port comes in handy, as all of my "sticks" happen with the port.  At each visit, the first thing they do is take my vitals, and then access my port.  I take a deep breath in, and then the nurse sticks a needle into my port.  Everything is sterile, and removed from a special kit...including the gloves that the nurses put on.  From there, they flush it with two syringes of saline, and then take several blood samples. Generally,  they take two vials.  After the blood draw, the port is flushed again, but some saline is left in the syringe for the next nurse to use.  The port remains accessed with the tubing hanging down.  Then, when it is time for chemo or an iron infusion, they once again flush and then connect the IV flavor of the day.  The weirdest thing is that I can actually taste and smell the saline when they flush it.  We know that the port is working well, as my "blood return" is good.  That means that they can get blood from it.  If the blood return wasn't adequate, then we would have an issue.  Thank God (and my wonderful surgeon) that it appears to be working well.  I have noticed that as the swelling around the port has gone down after insertion, it seems to be "sticking out" on my chest.  Some ports seem to be more superficial than others.  On the other hand, perhaps that is just one (maybe the only) place on my body where there's not a lot of "extra padding"!


5.  I take an oral steroid the day before treatment, day of treatment and day after treatment.  Added to my medicine regime are two pills (morning and night) the day before treatment, followed by two more pills the day of treatment and one pill the morning after treatment.  The steroid is Decadron (Dexamethasone).  Interestingly enough, I also receive Decadron intravenously during treatment.  The steroid is prescribed to limit the allergic reaction to the chemotherapy regime, reduce swelling (yet another side effect I'll get to later), and also helps with nausea.  This drug is also is an appetite stimulant (just what I need...can't a cancer patient with extra fluff loose a little weight?)

6.   It takes approximately 4-6 hours for my drug administration.  In addition to the three main drugs (TAC), I also receive additional drugs to avoid allergic reactions, steroid, and antiemetics (anti-nausea).  They begin with Benadryl, to lessen the effects.  Other drugs I receive during treatment are Aloxi, Decadron and Emend.  My Emend is given via IV, and not orally.  Tomorrow, they are combining my iron infusion with my chemo.  I wonder which one they will administer first???

7. I sit in a special recliner for chemo administration, that has reclining handles on both sides!  The chemo treatment room has approximately 30 treatment recliners, of various sizes.  The treatment room is a large, rectangular room, and the nurses' station is in the middle on one of the long sides.  There are always three or four chemo oncology nurses on duty.  After watching them for hours on end, I have a new appreciation for oncology nurses.  (They might even work harder than teachers.)  Just like educators, they rarely go to the restroom, or have time for lunch!)  Angie is my main chemo nurse.  Guess where she's from???  Jones County!  Bobby is another nurse that I've gotten to know some.  The treatment room is full at times, while half-full at others.  Sometimes, I've been there so long (like I will be tomorrow), there are very few other patients left in the room.  It's really something sitting in the treatment room, and wondering what everyone's story is.  Other than another gentleman that I know, and another lady I saw last week receiving chemo, we are by far the youngest patients that I've seen.  That's not to say that there aren't other younger, but I haven't seen them on Thursdays...and I've been there every Thursday, so far.  Some people sleep, while the majority watch television.  Due to FDA and EPA regulations, no family members or friends are allowed to sit with you during the length of time you are receiving chemo.  So far, one or both of my parents have been with me during chemo and iron treatments.  They patiently wait in the lobby (I haven't been able to convince them to leave and come back, yet...but still trying.).  They are able to step back to the chemo room, see how things are going, bring me drinks or snacks (even though I pack a lunch box), and then go back out to the lobby.  There have been a few times, especially if the treatment room is almost empty, that they are allowed to sit down and chat.  It's just another way to cut down on infection and exposure for the patients, but makes for a long day.  Look for another post in the future about how I spend my time in the chemo recliner!

8.  My treatments have caused me to experience many, many side-effects...so many that I now need a "pill container" to organize my medicine.  Throughout this three-week experience, I have had so many side-effects, it's almost comical at this point.  Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, rash, constipation, changes in taste, tiredness, muscle pain, joint pain, fluid retention, low white blood count, hair loss (more on that one in #10), cough, mouth and throat sores and bladder problems are the majority of the symptoms I've experienced.  The nausea is fairly controlled with medication, though it seems to hit at odd times.  They give you many antiemetics in your IV, but the best advice I received was to take my nausea meds regularly for the first few days, even if I think I don't need them.  It's much easier to prevent vomiting, than play "catch-up" after it starts.  I have two different nausea meds, Compazine and ABH (a formulary created by the pharmacy at the Cancer Center).  The both seem to work, but I still wish I could have good old Phenergan, which is frowned upon in the Oncology world :(  The stomach issues and the mouth sores have by far been the worst side effects I've experienced.  Days 3 and 4 were very rough with a severe headache, body aches and nausea.  I broke out with thrush on Day 6, went back to the Doctor on Day 7 for Thrush (back on Day 8 for iron, too!), and ended up taking an anti-fungal (Diflucan) drug and anti-viral drug (Valtrex), in addition to prescription mouthwash (Caphosol).  During the first cycle, I was also put on a steroid to lessen the symptoms - past the initial three days.  For someone who only took daily allergy meds, I am presently taking Protonix (stomach medication) Claritin, Valtrex, Decadron, Caphosol, Alleve and Bactrim (for a UTI).  Tomorrow I will add in the two nausea meds as needed, and then Cipro comes in on Day 5.  This is one of the biggest shocks to me...I never thought about the oral meds that I might have to take between chemo sessions.  My family has to now remind me to take my medicine!!!

 

9. Part of my chemotherapy regime includes a colony stimulating injection called, Neulasta, 24-hours after I receive my chemo drugs.  One of the major side effects of my prescribed drugs is that it decreases neutrophils, a type of white blood cell necessary to fight infection.  Neulasta (Pegfilgrastim) is an injection (given in the tummy), that helps your body make additional white blood cells.  The injection is given on Friday after chemo, and the largest side effect are flu-like symptoms and body aches.  Research hasn't proven why, but for some reason, it has been found that taking Claritin daily helps with the body aches. Although white counts drop in the majority of patients, I went to the extreme and became "neutropenic".  My white blood count dropped to 1.4 (normal is 4.8 - 10.8) and my neutrophils level dropped to an alarming 0.3 (normal is 2.0 - 8.0).  Due to this low drop, I was placed on "house arrest" and told to limit contact with people.  I also could not eat raw fruits or vegetables, due to possible bacteria consumption.  If my white count is too low, it will delay my chemo schedule, but fortunately, I responded to the Neulasta, and by day 15 my counts were up to 4.9 (wbc) and 2.5 (neu).  Those put me back into the world, so I was able to return to work.  Apparently, this will occur each time, so I've been advised to quarantine myself on days 7-10 and follow the no raw fruits, veggies, rare meat, etc...  (Now, here's your shocking fact...on the day I had my Neulasta injection and some fluids for dehydration, insurance paid out over $6,000!)

10.  Just like the doctor said, my hair did not make it to Day 21!  I am on some very strong chemo drugs, especially Adriamycin, aka "The Red Devil".  On Days 14-15, my head started hurting, or more accurately, my hair started hurting.  Certain drugs cause the hair follicles to actually release the hairs, and as they happens, discomfort occurs.  Heading to the doctor last week for an iron treatment, I was styling my hair, and used some hair product.  As I brought my hands out of my hair, they were covered with hair.  Lots of hair!!!  I asked the Nurse Practioner, Jeff, what could be done to help with the tingly, achy scalp, and his suggestion was just to "go on and shave it".  I went to see my favorite stylist, Shana, and she shaved it for me.  (Future post, complete with pictures).  As soon as the hair was gone, my scalp felt so much better.  I now have little black whiskers on my head, which are rapidly falling out, exposing bald spots.  While leaning over the bathroom sink, after I rub my head, it looks as if my Jeff has just shaved.  On a plus side, no hair greatly adds to the time I get to sleep in the morning, and I get to brush my hair with a lint brush!

Treatment #2 is tomorrow.  We are hopeful that the addition of a stomach and anti-viral medications will help to lessen the side-effects.  Only time will tell.  As a rule, your symptoms and side-effects seem to be predictable with each round, with certain symptoms occurring on the same days.  I will just have to wait and see.  Thank you for your continued prayers and support as I continue on my journey.

TTFN,

-S

"Catch Up" Before Chemo

Two-inch incision

Before I begin chemotherapy treatment tomorrow, I find myself playing "catch up"...so much to do and so little time!  I guess I'll be like The Sound of Music, and start at the very beginning...

Monday morning, I reported to Coliseum's Day Hospital for my insertion of my "Power Port".  Our time to report was at 5:45 a.m., but I don't think my surgery actually began until after 8 a.m. New and old Jones County friends helped to make my experience as comfortable as possible during outpatient surgery.  I say it was an answer to prayers.  After a while, it was quite humorous about all of the Jones County folks that were taking care of me in the hospital.  I saw it as just blessings from God. 

A new tag for my key ring

 A smiling friend greeted me as I checked into the Day Hospital, and was allowed to be my discharge nurse.  How nice it was to talk with her while I waited!  My anesthesiologist is a parent of a Clifton Ridge Middle student, so we chatted about a major project that his son had been working on.  The Nurse-Anesthetist is a JC resident, and even the next-door neighbor of my principal.  The sister-in-law of one of my dear co-workers was one of my recovery nurses.  Don't forget that my surgeon is a Jones County native!  It really helped me to be surrounded by such kind and caring people during this anxious time.

The actual surgery wasn't too bad.  I have an incision on my left chest area, approximately two inches wide.  The Power Port is placed under the skin, and then connected to a main vein.  There is still some swelling, but all in all, just a bit discomfort.  The incision is closed with surgical glue.  I now have a medical card to show security personnel if I beep, in addition to a key tag (guess I'll put that right between the Ingles and Kroger tags!).  There's also a rubber bracelet that I can wear, to let everyone know that I have a Power Port installed.  One of my co-workers has suggested that we "bling it up"!  (I'll let her keep working on how to do that!)

I found out Tuesday that after three tests, my HER2 test results are not-amplified.  Praise God!  That means my chemotherapy treatment will be over in 5-6 months, as opposed to 12 months of treatment.  You can only imagine how excited I am to know that chemo will be over in January.  God is good!

Thursday is the big day...the day I begin my next battle phase.  My oncologist has prescribed the chemotherapy combination of TAC, which is a combination of the drugs Taxotere, Adriamycin and Cytoxan.  The treatments will be administered every 21 days, for a total of six treatments.  24 hours after chemotherapy, I will be administered a Neulasta injection.  Neulasta is a white blood cell booster that will help reduce the risk of infection during treatment.  I began taking a required oral steroid today, that also doubles as nausea medication.  Two doses today, two doses tomorrow and one dose on Friday morning.  Lots of additional pre-treatment medications will be administered tomorrow, but I am not exactly sure what.  Extra fluids, anti-nausea meds, benadryl and more are given prior to the administration of medications.  Sometimes, up to two hours is allocated just for pre-meds.

My appointment at the Cancer Center is for lab work at 10:40...this is the first time that my port will be accessed.  I have numbing cream to place on the port prior to the visit.  The cream should be applied 30 minutes prior to the visit, and I cover it with plastic wrap after administering the medication.  (Think that might be a picture worth sharing!)

I will meet with a nurse practitioner after labs, and then will begin infusions.  The treatment should take approximately four hours for actual drips, but there will be additional time required for monitoring after treatment is administered.  I'm hoping that we will make it home by 6:30 p.m. tomorrow night.

The side effects for my chemo combination are quite frightening, but I'm trying hard not to read / research too much.  My provider has assured me that they will do everything possible to keep me comfortable, and manage my side effects, but it is imperative that I share them with the doctor.

Just like Scarlett O'Hara says...."Tomorrow is another day".  In my world, tomorrow is the beginning of another phase in my battle with breast cancer.  All of my life, I've been told not to play with poisons, but yet tomorrow, I will be willingly hooked up to poison...the things we do to save our lives!

The Jones County School system begins Fall Break tomorrow.  My children and co-workers won't report to work.  At my house, I'm jokingly referring to it as my "Chemo Break".    My Nook and laptop are charging.  Headphones are packed.  Silly romantic comedies have been rented from Redbox.  Snacks are packed, and my journal is ready.  At this point, only God knows how the day will unfold, but one this is for certain...I am a survivor!

TTFN,
-S

SBE May Save Your Life...It Did Mine!

When I started this blog 38 days ago, it was primarily just for me...it was my "Easy Button".    Telling someone that I was diagnosed with breast cancer was difficult, but re-telling was even harder.  Thus, "TaTas For Now" was born as a way that I can share the latest updates with family and friends, in addition to being a form of  "cheap therapy" for me.  Over the past seven weeks, as I've shared my journey,  another goal has come about from my blog...awareness!

As we come upon Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October, I pray that I can make a difference, in encouraging at least one more woman to do her monthly self breast exam (SBE), or schedule her annual mammogram.  I have begun returning to work in between medical appointments, and am striving back for that "normalcy", with limits of course.  I can't tell you how many people have said, "Shelby, what if you didn't go get your mammogram?"  "What if you hadn't felt the lump?"  My husband, my principal, co-workers, friends, and family have all asked the same question...WHAT IF?  Fortunately by the Grace of God and my meddling husband and mother, I went!  (In that case, saying thank you for minding my business just doesn't have the same effect, does it?)

Out of all of the posts that I have written or will write, this is probably the one that I want you to remember the most...women and men should complete their monthly self breast exams.  I've already shared that the current statistics are 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetime.  (Granted, there aren't too many of them diagnosed at age 38!)  Did you also know that 1 out of every 100 breast cancer cases diagnosed are to a male? 

There are lots of different methods for completing self breast exams.  BreastCancer.Org has a five step plan.  The American Cancer Society has these instructions.   Other suggestions for the breast self exam are offered on the WebMD web site.  Once a woman reaches the age of 20, she should begin doing monthly self breast exams.

It doesn't necessarily matter if you do your exam in the shower, standing or reclining on a bed...the point is that you do it religiously at the same time each month.  One of the neatest things I've found are web sites that will send you monthly reminders to complete your self breast exam.  Bright Pink has a reminder email sign-up program.  The UCSD Cancer Center also has a monthly reminder program.  Regardless of whether you utilize one of these email programs, put it in your smartphone calendar, Outlook calendar, or just remember....do it!  As cliche as it sounds, "Feel Your Boobies". 

Current mammography recommendations differ, in that some organizations state routine / baseline mammograms should begin at age 40, while others suggest age 50.  If you are over the age of 40...when is the last time you've had a mammogram?


The Susan G. Komen for the Cure site shares the following warning signs:

• Lump, hard knot or thickening inside the breast or underarm area
• Swelling, warmth, redness or darkening of the breast
• Change in the size or shape of the breast
• Dimpling or puckering of the skin
• Itchy, scaly sore or rash on the nipple
• Pulling in of your nipple or other parts of the breast
• Nipple discharge that starts suddenly
• New pain in one spot that doesn’t go away 

Another important factor in breast health is to know your family history.  Ask around...did Aunt Paula have breast cancer, or Uncle Steve have prostrate cancer? (Did you know that they are genetically linked?)   Forget about tending to your relative's business, but if a female relative has a lump, cyst, etc... she needs to share it with the family.

"Feeling my boobies" most likely saved my life...and it might save yours also.  (Remember that 1 in 8 statistic.)  If you don't gather anything else from my journey, remember how important your breast health is.  Complete your monthly self exam.  Sign up for an email reminder.  Schedule your routine mammogram.  Have your health care provider exam your breasts during physicals.  If you are a male, remind your female loved ones, as well as become familiar with your breast health. 

As mothers, we often postpone our health needs for the needs of our children or time constraints. This is one case where you need to put yourself first.  I'll tell you like my mother told me, when she found I put off getting a mammogram for a few months, "If you don't want another woman raising your children....go get it checked!"

(This post is lovingly dedicated to my husband...who will never let me forget how he made me go get my mammogram - via Helen!)

TTFN,
-S

Look Good...Feel Better Class

Monday night, Adelia and I attended a class, "Look Good...Feel Better", sponsored by the American Cancer Society.  The program is open to all women who are undergoing chemotherapy, radiation, or other medical treatment, and focuses upon the appearance related side effects of chemotherapy and radiation on your body.  I would probably say that the class mirrored breast cancer statistics, as the cosmetologist teaching the class and I were the only individuals there (with the exception of Adelia), who were born in the past fifty years.  The best part of the evening was that we walked away with a free bag of cosmetics!

As I await my next oncologist appointment, and find out exactly what chemotherapy regime I will be prescribed, I've been researching. (Aren't you surprised to know that?  LOL)  There are approximately twenty different chemotherapy drugs on the list for breast cancer treatment.  The majority of the drugs are combined to form combinations for treatments.  All of the characteristics of your cancer, as well as your menopausal status determine which drug combination you are prescribed. 

Over the past few days, especially during the class, it has become very real the side effects that I most likely will experience on this journey.  Chemotherapy is a systemic treatment, which means it's not localized, but administered to the entire body through the bloodstream.  Chemo drugs are given to weaken and destroy cancer cells.  I'm praying that my chemo will "seek and destroy" any little cancer cells floating around and blow 'em up...just like on Griffen's video games!

The "Look Good...Feel Better" class emphasized what we already know.  If you look good, you'll feel good., or at least better!  Sure, there are days that we want to lounge in our comfy flamingo night shirt (thanks to my Mother, I'm now the owner of flamingo covered sleepwear, which Jeff has taken to calling it the "Florida Lottery Nightgown!), but we know that it would be better for our "spirit" if we get up, put your face on, fix your hair, and get dressed.  If you look your best, you'll at least feel better.

I learned many things during the course of the hour-long class.  (Don't you just love it when you learn something!)  We are all taught about cosmetic safety, and the lifespan of your cosmetic products, but let's face it...most of us never follow the suggested guidelines.  As a chemotherapy patient, it is imperative that I now begin thinking about keeping my cosmetics "clean", as to avoid risks from bacteria or other infections.  While on chemo, it is advised that you utilize disposable make-up applicators, like cotton balls, cotton swabs, disposable mascara wands, or even a sanitized hand.  It was also advised that you never, ever place your hand into a jar, container, etc..., but instead, use a cotton swab to dip out of the jar or container.  This is probably a tip we should all utilize!

Information was presented about skin and nail care, in addition to make-up tips and head coverings. Yours truly was the make-up model.  (Remember, I was the only one under 50!)   Don't moisturize your eyebrows, and they'll stay in longer.  When you don't have eyelashes, it is better to "dot" your eyeliner, rather than harsh lines.  You can visit the website for the make-up guide, as well as the information on scarves, turbans, and head wraps.  One of the neat things I learned was how to take an old t-shirt and turn it into a head scarf.  I think I'll be going through some of Jeff (and even Adelia's) t-shirts, to decide which colors I need for my wardrobe!

Do you think I'll "Look Good...Feel Better" with an old camo t-shirts as a head wrap?  Exactly what ensemble would one wear with that?

TTFN,
-S

There's No Place Like Home

The past two days have been a blur, as you can imagine.  I'm on painkillers (Jeff is spinning a little as I'm typing this), so you'll have to forgive any incoherent sentences or thoughts in this post.  Maybe it's the drugs, the experience, or exhaustion, but my last few days have been very similar to The Wizard of Oz.  Part of it is in sepia, and part in technicolor.  I'll try to share as many details as I remember, and get you "up to speed" on the details.


First, THANK YOU to my incredible guest blogger, Adelia.  Her post was great, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!  (Adelia generally edits my posts after writing, so she is very familiar with my blogging process.)  Hopefully, I can convince my daughter to write additional posts and share her thoughts with you, as cancer is a diagnosis that affects the entire family.


 We reported to the hospital at 8:45 a.m. on Wednesday, and were assigned a room in the day hospital. 



There, I received a fabulous new outfit!  As Arleigh would say, they certainly didn't match!


 As with the entire experience at Coliseum, everyone was so nice and attentive.  I felt like royalty.  Two special nurses  kept coming in checking on me and my family. One is a fellow band-mom and the other is a relative of a co-worker.  The fact that they took the effort to seek me out and ask if my family or I needed anything made me feel very special.  Thank you ladies!

About 10:00 a.m., Dr. Martin came in, carrying a little radioactive lunchbox...or that's what it looked like.  (Kind of reminded me of my old Snoopy lunchbox that I had in elementary school.)  He cleared the room, and then injected the tumor and right breast with a radioactive material.  I have a fairly high pain threshold, and it was painful!!!  Dr. Martin apologized, and said that was the most he would hurt me all day.  The injection itself wasn't painful, but as the material spread throughout, it was agony and brought tears to my eyes.  Dr. Martin was ahead of schedule at that time, and stated it...well, you know what happened next...one thing led to another, and finally around noon they took me to the area "waiting" for surgery.

 In the waiting area, I really wished I had my cell phone with me.  Dr. Martin had to come in and initial the "area to be removed, per hospital policy.  That would have certainly been a "Kodak Moment"...there is my black and blue breast (still bruised from the biopsy three weeks earlier), and he has to write "KM" on it.  Like I said, it was a Kodak moment.  I had to wait for what seemed like forever in the surgical waiting bay.  Lots of women were in labor, and it seemed as if every anesthesiologist was busy putting in an epidural somewhere in the hospital.  I finally had my anesthesia consult, and then it was show time!

Another nurse wheeled me from the surgical waiting area into the operating room.  I remember going through double doors, into the operating room, and seeing my nurse anesthetist (because she had a funky skull cap on).  There was another surgeon in the room (I think I recognized him as a plastic guy, asking something about staples) and that's all I remember!  (Guess this would be the end of the sepia part in The Wizard of Oz.)

Cue music, and then I open my eyes in the recovery room, and everything is in technicolor!  (Did you know that it is no longer called "recovery", but "PACU"?)  PACU is the acronym used for Post-Anesthesia Care Unit.  I remember waking up, then Jeff being there.  After a while, my Mom, Adelia and Daddy all came in to see me, also.  As time passed, we are told there was no room on the postpartum floor (where mastectomy patients are usually placed after surgery), so I would be put in a room on the surgical floor.  (Remember earlier, when all of the anesthesiologists were busy putting in epidurals???)

I do remember speaking with Dr. Martin in PACU.  He was very pleased with the amount of skin he was able to save, and even mentioned that he told Dr. Powell (the Plastic Surgeon) that he left him a good bit for reconstruction.  Dr. Martin said that he expected my cancer to be staged at IIA, (but then he said he heard I already knew that!)  He also put a compression bandage on my chest after surgery, which is not usually done.  Apparently during the radioactive tests, five nodes absorbed the dye.  Of those, two lymph nodes were positive.  During surgery, six lymph nodes were removed from under my right arm.  (I'm still fuzzy on all of this, and will get clarification during next week's appointment).  Just because there were cells in those lymph nodes, Dr. Martin stressed it did not mean there were cancer cells elsewhere. 

I was placed in my hospital room around 5:00 p.m., and this sign was directly at the foot of my bed.  Thing were going ok, pain was minimal, and then the nausea began.  Anesthesia always makes me nauseated, so they administer extra meds during surgery and after.  I've learned this the hard way through the years with dental, sinus and even my tubal ligation surgery.  (If you haven't experienced the terrifying experience of vomiting after surgery, I pray you never do.)

I began getting sicker and sicker.  They were administering nausea meds, in addition to Demerol, but it just wasn't working that well.  It would come on, and then ease off.  One nurse even had me "sniffing" alcohol pads.  She recently read a study where the smell of alcohol helped with nausea, and I have to admit that there were numerous times throughout the night that it did help ease my nausea. A call to Dr. Martin late Wednesday evening added some additional nausea medicine, but it was still a very long, long night.  (How I longed for some Phenergan.  Did you know that it is not used in hospital IVs, due to damage sustained when administered via veins?). 
 
After a very, very, very long night, my pain medication was changed, as perhaps the vomiting was due to a reaction to the Demerol.  Dr. Martin came in for morning rounds, and was very pleased with the incision, and removed the compression bandage.  He said I was ready to go home and rest!  After Dr. Martin's visit, a representative from Chichesters (a local medical supply business) brought my surgical camisole, a medical case worker and Kim, my Oncology Nurse Navigator, all came to visit around the same time.  Kim continues to impress me with each visit, and this one was no different.  (She even took over "basin duty" from my Mom and Jeff, during several of my episodes while visiting.)

A change was made to my pain medication, and we were able to leave the hospital around 11:15 a.m.  I had on my new breast insert, inside my post-operative camisole, as we left the hospital.  On the way home, I took a Phenergan, per Doctor's orders.

Saying "Thank You" for your prayers and support is just not adequate, as I finish this first phase of my breast cancer treatment.  My next appointment with Dr. Martin is Thursday, September 15 at 1:40 p.m.

 We finally made it home, and just like Dorothy, I had to admit that  "there's no place like home!"

From the Beginning...

Julie Andrews in the popular 1965 musical, The Sound of Music

Picture Julie Andrews, singing in the Austrian Alps, with children dressed in curtains, and the beautiful Austrian countryside in the background.   One of my favorite musicals is The Sound of Music, which inspires today's post.   

The Sound of Music also happens to be my Mother's favorite musical, as well as Adelia's.  I think I have always known the words to all of the songs in this musical, as does Adelia, now.  It's been passed down for three generations.  My favorite song is "Edelweiss", but another beloved melody from the musical is "Do-Re-Mi". 

Today, we're going to start at the very beginning...

"Let's start at the very beginning
A very good place to start
When you read you begin with A-B-C
When you sing you begin with do-re-mi"

My journey has been a speedy one, and I am thankful to God and my doctors for that.  In case you've missed some of my posts, here's a quick re-cap of how things transpired...

August 2 - Mammogram / Ultrasound   This Can't Be Good

August 18 - Consult with Surgeon / Core Needle Biopsy  Suspicions  

August 20 - Confirmation of Diagnosis  Today's the Day

August 25 - MRI   The Tale of Two Boxes

August 30 - Appointment with Surgeon / Surgery Scheduled  Results Show Part I

September 1 - Pre-Op Bloodwork Completed

September 7 - Right Mastectomy Scheduled...

What a difference 36 days can make in your life!

TTFN,

-S

What a Difference Two Weeks Makes...

Two weeks ago, my life changed forever.  I didn't fall in love, give birth to a beautiful child, discover the cure for a disease, or save a life...I was officially diagnosed with cancer.  What a difference 2 weeks, 14 days, 336 hours or 20,160 minutes makes in your life.  You may have compassion and understanding for the diagnosis, but until you have heard the words spoken to yourself, "You have cancer", you just can't fully comprehend the magnitude of those three words.

In those two weeks, I have said, written and done things I never thought I would do in my life, and run the entire spectrum of emotions.  Telling my children that "Mommy has cancer", as well as answering all of their questions (especially the ones a nine-year old can come up with), are some of the most difficult conversations I have ever had. My husband has held me while I've cried, and I've held him when he cried.  I have had to accept the fact that I have breast cancer, and face the challenge head on. I never thought I would be snuggling up with my son, looking at a wig catalog, either...but it happened this week.  People have commented on my great attitude...but I want to ask, "What would you have me do instead?"  It may try, but cancer will not define me.

I have been overwhelmed with  love and support during the past two weeks.   Not only my family, but folks from my hometown , childhood friends, college friends, new friends, co-workers, church family, teachers, and students have reached out with their words of encouragement, offering their prayers and love.  It has been overwhelming, and often the messages have caused more tears of love, rather than tears of fear.  Without that support and love, I'm certain that my attitude and outlook would be very different!

As I'm sure with every major diagnosis, there has been a fleeting moment, where even my religion has been questioned.  I say fleeting, because how anyone can not rely on their faith when dealing with a diagnosis, such as cancer, is beyond me.  I believe and have faith in my God, and know that He has a plan for me and my diagnosis.  If the journey is not favorable, I know that I will have eternal life. So many wonderful and inspiring verses and passages have been shared with me over the past two weeks, too.  My favorite Bible verses (since childhood) are Proverbs 3: 5-6, and is what I rely on daily during my journey with cancer.

Proverbs 3:5-6 (NKJV)

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
      And lean not on your own understanding;
       ⁶ In all your ways acknowledge Him,
      And He shall direct your paths. 

During the past two weeks, we've had a crash course in breast cancer.  (You know me, I've researched, read, highlighted and made lists about breast cancer!)  IDC, ER, PR, HER2, BRCA, Surgical Margins, and Sentinel Lymph Node are just a few of the new words in my vocabulary.  In two weeks, I've also had an MRI, another appointment with the surgeon, appointment with the Oncology Nurse Navigator, scheduled surgery, and had my pre-op appointment.

I have also noticed that face to face, people act differently around you.  First of all, they quickly glance at your chest. (Maybe I should put a big bow on the right one?)  They also tend to be one extreme or the other in their words, (though this statement doesn't apply to all...so don't get offended,☺) quickly offering their sympathy, or not knowing what to say.  Most men fall into the second category.  They acknowledge your situation with a nod or smile (which often can speak much emotion), but when it comes to words, they are at a loss.  Friends and my child's friends no longer know what to say.  Others, are often ready to share their breast cancer stories.  Although they are heartfelt and meant to be reassuring, no breast cancer cases are exactly alike.  The encouragement about so many breast cancer survivors is incredible, but it might not be the best idea to share a story about some 90 year old grandmother who has breast cancer, with a newly diagnosed 38-year old, mother of three.

Two weeks have shown me that I am a strong woman, and that with God's grace, and the love of my family and friends, I will survive.  I may question the path that I am on, but I'm here now, and must travel the road called "Breast Cancer".

Last night, the Jones County High School Marching Greyhounds wore pink ribbons on their uniforms in memory of a fellow band mom, Kelly Pittman Swafford.  Kelly courageously lost her battle with breast cancer Thursday.  It was quite emotional to see all of those students with their pink ribbons.  Please keep the Pittman-Swafford family in your prayers.

TTFN,

-S

The Tale of Two Boxes

This actual MRI machine was used today for my Breast MRI.

Today was a tale of two boxes.  You would think that the two boxes refer to the Breast MRI that was scheduled for today, but actually, that's only one of the boxes.  (Ok, go on and laugh...you thought I was talking about my breasts, didn't you? :)

I arrived at the MRI Center a little before 7:30 a.m.  Went through registration and was handed paperwork to fill out and present to the technician when my name was called.  You know the paperwork...attached to a clipboard with a cheap pen.  Routine questions that normally I don't give a second thought to.  I just go down the lengthy column marking no, no, no, no, no no.  Heart disease, high blood pressure, seizures, diabetes..and then I stopped.  There it was with a box beside it.  CANCER.  For the first time ever, I had to mark yes in the "Cancer Box" on a form.  Still, hours after, I can not find the words to describe how surreal that moment was.  I, Shelby Marie Hobbs Henderson put an "X" in the Yes column by cancer.  I've been told by the surgeon that I have cancer.  I told my children I have cancer.  I told my family and friends that I have cancer.  I've shared my soul on this blog about cancer, but putting an "X" in the cancer box was reality, beyond measure for me!

I was then taken back to the MRI waiting areas by a very nice MRI technician, Victor.  He had a great personality, and when I asked if I could take a photo of the MRI machine for my blog, his reply was, "Wait a minute and let me tidy up!".  It was quite humorous standing there with my phone while he got the wrinkles out of the sheet on the MRI machine!  The photo on this post is the actual machine that was used for my Breast MRI.  You can read about the Breast MRI process here.  I was face-down for the process. The MRI machine utilizes a type of breast plate with "boxes" for your breasts.  Wendy (the other great technician I met today), positioned my breasts in the boxes.  I thought of them almost as little coffins for my boobs!  Your arms are above your head, with an IV in, as contrast is administered.  During the process, you are told not to move. The table is then moved into the MRI machine feet first.  Trying not to breath too deeply, earplugs in, IV in your arm, breasts in the boxes, and then the loud clicking noises start!  Images were taken before the contrast began, during, and then after the contrast had fully reached the area in question.  The purpose of the MRI was to see if there were any additional occult cancer, or cancers that are not visible on a mammogram or ultrasound.

The process was not pleasant.  If you've ever had a scan with contrast, you know that it feels very weird.  The contract used in Breast MRIs is not iodine based, and therefore is supposed to be more tolerable than that used in CT scans.  I could feel the contrast as it traveled through my body.  I imagined it kind of like a sparkly florescent glow.  First my head, then my shoulders, chest, abdomen, etc...  It was not pleasant, but I kept telling myself that this was miniscule compared the challenges that I will be facing in the next month and beyond.  When Victor let me know that there was only about seven minutes left, I thought I was going to lose it.  Not go crazy, but literally lose whatever contents were in my stomach (only a few sips of Coke Zero).  My breasts were probably lit up like a "Lite-Brite" on their monitor, and I felt like I was going to vomit all over a million dollar machine!

Thanks to God that I didn't vomit, and the procedure was finally over.  Wendy and I had a nice conversation about my proposed treatment, and she said she would add me to her prayers.  As soon as the procedure was over and images saved, they were immediately available for Dr. Martin to pull up, but he most likely won't receive the official radiologist report until Friday.

I was able to return to work, but have felt rather weak and nauseated all day.  Hopefully that will subside with a good night's sleep. Even with the way I've felt, my day was filled with unexpected "sprinkles"...literally and figuratively.  The outpouring of love, concern and prayers that I am receiving is unbelievable.  Unexpected cards and tokens of love are lifting my spirits higher.  Upon my arrival at work after my MRI, I had a large bag of sprinkles waiting for me in my school mailbox, with a note!  I love my sprinkles : )

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Dr. Martin called around 4:30 p.m. with more news.  Thank God my left breast is cancer free and there are no other cancer cells visible on the MRI!!!   He also said that at my appointment Tuesday, we will schedule my surgery. Thank you God and my Prayer Army!

TTFN,
-S

My Television "Medical Drama" Day (& The Results!)

Today was my medical drama day!  It's the day that my surgeon presented my case at a breast cancer symposium.  I've tried to picture all day what it was like...surgeon, physicians, oncologists, plastic surgeons and other medical professionals gathered together.  They are gathered together in a room, coffee and a danish on the table in front of them (I would have preferred cream-cheese), and then the spotlight is on me...or the C-sized parts of me. 

I've been thinking of medical drama episodes on television:  Grey's Anatomy, House, and ER...might even add in some Guiding Light, General Hospital and Young and the Restless. McDreamy, McSteamy, House, George Clooney, and Rick Bauer all sitting around discussing my case.  I suppose as films and ultrasound results of my chest are flashed up for all to see, someone says, (I think it might sound better if you imagine this is in a deep, masculine voice -kind of like Chief Webber on Grey's) "... 38 year old female, recently diagnosed with IDC*. No family history, no alcohol use, no drug use, no tobacco use.  Breast-fed three children, with first live birth at age 24.  Patient is not peri or post-menopausal."  Then they use a lot of terminology that I haven't learned yet (or don't know the results of yet), and then proceed to discuss how they believe my journey should proceed.

IDC is Invasive or Infiltrating Ductal Carcinoma.  The "I" portion refers to the fact that the cancer has spread outside of the duct, invading the surrounding tissues.  With this type of cancer, the cells may travel to other parts of your body or lymph nodes. (We don't know if mine have yet.)  The "D" portion refers to the origin, which means that the cancer originated in the lining of a milk duct within my breast, and I think you can figure out what the "C" stands for.  

More than180,000 women in the United States are diagnosed with Invasive Breast Cancer each year, according to the American Cancer Society.  The majority of those diagnosed have invasive ductal carcinoma.  Generally two-thirds of the women diagnosed with  invasive breast cancer are aged 55 or older when diagnosed.

It has been my prayer today that God utilize the knowledge and wisdom of the physicians gathered together, and that collectively, harmoniously and unanimously they decide the best course of treatment for my cancer.  (Think otherwise; Who wants to hear that by a vote of 8-6 your treatment was decided ???) 

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 Earlier this evening, I was ready to publish this post, and Dr. Martin called with great news!  Thanks to God!

My Estrogen Receptor (ER) is positive at 100%, and the Progesterone Receptor (PR) is positive at 90%.  I'll share more about what this means tomorrow (as I research myself), but apparently it's great news!  HER2 results are not available.  My tumor is between 2 and 3 cm.  Dr. Martin was very excited and said those were the best results we could have received!  He said he called Saturday with bad news, but wanted to call today with great news : )

He also reported on the symposium.  The symposium was held this morning, with surgeons, oncologists, plastic surgeons, and radiation oncologists (I think that's what they were called?).  They were all unanimous and agreed with Dr. Martin's proposed treatment plan of a double mastectomy followed by chemotherapy.  If my lymph nodes are indeed negative, there is a high chance that after my mastectomy, I will be cancer free!!!

Chemotherapy would be done as an added measure to prevent possible recurrence.  "If you have a garden, you pull the weeds, but you still might spray the garden after", said Dr. Martin.

Tomorrow is my MRI, and I pray that the results of it will be as positive as the ones I received today.

It was a "sprinkle day" after all...THANK YOU for your support and prayers!

TTFN,
-S

Waking Up with Cancer

Yesterday, I woke up wondering...today, I woke up knowing. I have cancer.

I spent time yesterday telling family, sorority sisters, friends and loved ones of my test results. Event though I felt the blanket of the their prayers, it was still a different feeling. Today I know for certain. My family knows. My children know. The outpouring of their love and support has been overwhelming. To know that my life is blanketed with prayers is very humbling, but it doesn't stop the questions.

Has it spread? What will my treatment be? How will this affect my family? Insurance hoops? My wonderful school family and students? Why did I not get AFLAC when I moved? Finances? Prior obligations? Are my daughters at risk? Can my husband fix Arleigh's hair when I can't move my arms? When will I have the answers?

As I have tearfully read texts, emails, and Facebook messages from loved ones today, I realize that even though I am trying for "normal", my life will soon be abnormal, and it is beyond my control!

A dear friend sent me this verse in a message today, and it was just what I needed...

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil. 4:6

As I wake up tomorrow with cancer, I don't have all of the answers, but I know someone who does!

TTFN,
-S

Today's the Day

Today's the day...the phone call that will either eliminate my fears, or create a whole new set. Around 10:15 a.m., the phone rang. I immediately knew that the strange Macon cell number showing up on my phone was THE CALL.

After the niceties and apologies, I was told what I already knew..."You have cancer". It's amazing how three words can totally change the path your life takes.

I have been diagnosed with "Invasive Ductal" Breast Cancer. The tumor is a type 2 tumor, meaning that its growth is described as medium. It's not fast growing, but not slow growing. Additional pathology reports will not be available until Wednesday. From there, we will know about the estrogen, progesterone, and HER 2. The next step is to have a MRI, which the nurse will call to schedule on Monday.

I am relatively young in terms of breast cancer, have no family history of breast cancer in my family, and breast fed all three of my children. How did I get breast cancer?

Fortunately, my surgeon serves as chair of a Breast Cancer Consortium. This Wednesday, surgeons, oncologists, plastic surgeons, and more from the Southeast will gather together for a consortium meeting. By God's hand, my case will be presented to these great minds. According to Dr. Martin, it's like getting twenty free second opinions all at the same time.

Based upon the remaining pathology results, MRI results, and consortium discussion, a treatment plan will be devised. Dr. Martin did say if it was his wife, he would recommend a double mastectomy. This is the same advice that my sister and physician already gave. Dr. Martin also said that he works with wonderful reconstruction plastic surgeons, and that with treatment, I should live a long and healthy life!

Waiting...

It's like a black cloud hanging over...is it, or isn't it??? Today I notified my co-workers and friends of my situation. I kept thinking back to my conversation with Dr. Martin yesterday, that it is TREATABLE, if the biopsy reveals that it is cancer. Based upon his estimate of 80% that the tumor is malignant, I began trying to prepare myself. I am very sore from the procedure, but determined to go to work and make the situation as normal as possible for my children.

Today was a big day. It's Adelia's debut with the JCHS Greyhound Marching Band. I am extremely tired, bruised, and swollen, but attempting to remain "normal" for the children, even though they know Mom had a procedure yesterday. Mom, Dad and Brock came for a previously scheduled weekend visit. Fortunately, they will also be here for "the phone call".

At the game, I share my present situation with several of the band parents I have had the opportunity to spend time with over the summer. One immediately asked if she could pray for me, and while standing amongst the crowd, in a world or purple and yellow, she laid her hands on me and prayed.

After the game, even as tired as I was, I walked back to the band room to get Adelia. As we waited for the band to return, I once again had the opportunity to speak with several of my new band mom friends. They were very reassuring, and offered words of comfort. As I apologized for possibly having to shed my new role as an active band mom for marching season, they quickly comforted me and encouraged me to take care of me this season, and they would help take care of Adelia. Just waiting....will I be able to attend weekend band competitions, or will I be waiting to recover from a mastectomy, as I hear the football crowd and band on Friday nights?

As a parent, I find myself thinking about how my wonderful parents are feeling. As I wait for the phone call, so are they...waiting to find out an answer that no parent should ever have to seek.


Jeff, Griffen, Brock and Arleigh


Adelia (middle) in her band debut.