To do it or not to do it?

Recently, we had a difference of opinion here at my house. It doesn't happen often, this difference of opinion, but the stakes are pretty high on this one.

Here are my opinions: if you have Stage III breast cancer, you get a double mastectomy, period. No mere lumpectomy, no taking off just one side - you get rid of it all. Then, after treatment is done, you get reconstructed. You get reconstructed because breasts define a woman. Not entirely of course, but all us women have breasts. They might be small, they might be large; you may hide them or you may show them off, but they're there. How many times have you wondered "Man or Woman?" and checked for bumps on the chest? Well, I have, anyway. The point is that all women have that curve and I want mine back.

The Wonderful One's opinion was this: I went through a lot and now I'm returning to health. Why put myself through another surgery? Another long recovery? Because breast reconstruction after mastectomy is no small operation. It takes a few hours; there's general anesthesia. They insert an expander under the pectoralis muscle, then 'fill in' over the rest of the implant with 'biologic tissue' (sterilized cadaver tissue) since you can't place the implant directly under the skin. (When you have a breast enhancement, the implant goes under your existing breast tissue but I don't have any breast tissue left to slip it under.) Then, months later, the expander comes out and the implant goes in - another big surgery. The W.O. works in a hospital and sees all the worst case scenarios. Infections, strokes on the table, etc. He doesn't want me to be vulnerable to any of that.

Another good point from the Wonderful One was: Why not be the woman who dares to go without any breasts at all? I'm a survivor; a cancer warrior. I went through some horrible stuff. Show the world that it's OK to live with what you have left. He thinks I'm beautiful, with or without breasts. OK, I'm crying now but.... I just want to feel normal again. I'm neither brave enough nor strong enough to be the one who looks so darn different. I am not only flat-chested, I'm concave! No nipples, no nothing. Ugh! I feel like a freak.

Here's an analogy: Imagine that you had a tumor on your nose. A great, big, malignant tumor. The best way to save you was to cut off your nose, all of it. No nostrils, just two holes above your mouth. So, OK, your life is saved. That's good. But, there's a surgery available to you that's not without risks but it would give you a pretty good facsimile of a nose. Your face would look normal again. Would you take the surgical risk? Maybe the surgery could fail and the nose would fall off and have to be sewn back on again. Would you do it it anyway? Or spend the rest of your life looking like Voldemort?

So, I went with my gut and I will be reconstructed beginning on September 30th. The Wonderful One has stopped all negativity and is, of course, behind me 100 percent!

The Right Person?

Some people say that having cancer turned out to be a blessing for them. They say that they are glad they had cancer because it led them to something special. I always think to myself, "Well, OK for them, but I would never think that.". There's just no way that having a deadly disease that can come back and kill you even if you think you've won can possibly be a good thing. People need to justify their world so, to make some sense out of it, they need to extract something positive out of all the negative. I understand that, but I'm not buying it! Cancer is bad! It's Bad! But... Every once in a while, I experience something wonderful that wouldn't have been possible without having had cancer.

I was in the lobby of one of the hospitals I work with when the security guard said something to me that I'll never forget. She said "You are the right person, in the right place, at the right time!"

It wasn't the main lobby of the hospital. This was a smaller lobby in a professional building on campus. I know this guard because I see Jackie (no real names!) every week. She is a very kind woman who takes it upon herself to help everyone who needs it by fetching wheelchairs, giving directions, making phone calls, coordinating some transportation issues, etc. All for the patients who visit her lobby. Jackie also knows I had cancer and saw me go from healthy, to bald and sickly, and back again to healthy. On the day she said that phrase to me there was a young woman on my PET/CT trailer, Wanda S., who had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Wanda was terrified and somewhat in denial. She wasn't ready to think much about treatment. She was angry, too. Fortunately, we were not crazy busy on the trailer that day so I had the opportunity to talk to Wanda about my cancer experience. I try not to be preachy, just share some facts is all. At one point she looked at me - really looked at me - and saw a healthy, happy person and was greatly comforted. When Wanda was finished her test, she went back to Jackie's lobby to meet her friend and her sister, who had come with her that day. Wanda's relief was pretty evident. When I said goodbye, I got a big hug! That's when I turned to go back to my trailer and Jackie said "You are the right person, in the right place, at the right time.".

Of course, I cried a little. I do tend to get weepy. But I was also very happy and proud that I really helped someone that day. I'll still never say cancer was a good thing. But on that day, I was glad to have been through the battle so that I could share my story with someone who needed to hear it.

Back in the Woods

A long time ago, when David was teaching me how to mountain bike, one of the first things he said was "If you get a stick in your wheel stop right away.".  To keep going might damage the wheel and then where would you be? Why, you'd have to walk out. Could be a long, long walk depending on how far you rode.

Last Spring, I was getting chemotherapy. Last Summer, I had the big, bilateral mastectomy surgery. I definitely had a 'stick in my wheel' and the woods rides were few and short. Most of the rides were on easy trails. Oh, they were fun alright. It's always just great to be in the woods. The rides were just not very 'epic' - as we like to call long, strenuous rides.

This year? No stick in the wheel!! Today, we went on the first of what I hope to be many beautiful, long, strenuous rides! Work I did over the winter at the gym seems to have paid off. I can tell I will be back to my normal very soon. Yay!

The photo is from today's ride. The dogwoods are blooming amid the new green.

Reachout & Run again

Facebook Post 4/12/2011:

David & I did this 5K last year. I was bald and had to walk the short course. This year, we're doing it again and I'm going to SKIP with my new hair flying all over the place! You can register all the way up to the morning of the event, in Towson, if you want to join us...

Brooklandville, MD

The Two Dubyah's

I think I might have posted this advice before but here it is again. The best things to do when you are on chemotherapy and feeling rotten are these: Walking and Water! Bundle up if it's cold outside; grab an umbrella if it's raining. Walk as far as you can. It might only be around the block or down the street and back but it helps so much! Also, drink a lot more water than usual. Even when water tastes awful because of the chemo.Walking and Water help to get your systems awake and moving. This is a totally unscientific view of mine of course, but, when I was on chemo, if I sat too long I needed to shake things up a bit. All those bad chemicals start pooling and roiling around inside my body. Walking and Water made me feel better - a bit more normal.

There are other things that can make things more tolerable, too. Good family and friend support, a wonderful spouse and confidence in your doctors are a few of them. So is a good night's sleep. So many times for me, a good night's sleep kind of snuck up on me and provided a wonderful benefit. I'd lay down at night, not at all confident that I could sleep. Do I dare turn over and mix everything up inside? Would I get sick during the night? How much worse was I going to feel before it got better? Then, miraculously, the next thing I knew, I'd be waking up in the morning! I guess it's kind of a secret benefit of going through chemo. You're so exhausted that sleep often comes, gloriously, in the midst of the suffering and somewhat restores you.

Yep - sleep, and Walking and Water, so often did the trick!

It gets better, I promise...

February 28, 2010 - Sick from chemotherapy; weak from two months of nasty chemicals. I can walk around the block or even do a small amount of cross-country skiing on a really good day. Looking forward, I still have to go through mastectomies and radiation therapy. I have cancer, and there's no telling if the treatment will be totally effective.

Fast forward to February 28, 2011. I look like a monster with my shirt off - or maybe like an old man - concave chest and big belly. BUT (and this is a very big, important but), I am so healthy, so strong and so happy! The cancer is gone, the surgery is long over and the chemo and rad therapy are now only memories. AND today, I am in Utah in the Big Cottonwood canyon, skiing. Downhill skiing all day today at Brighton and I'm skiing better than ever! It's a surprise to me that, at age 54, I am still capable of improving my skiing skills. But to be able to get better at it after all that junk, well, it's amazing and humbling. I am a lucky, lucky person!

Tomorrow, we go to Snowbird...

I think it's all gonna be OK

Had the biopsy yesterday. It was a lot like I remember from the last one. Except a tad more uncomfortable. It was not because of anything the doc or nurses did or didn't do. The lumps that they were sampling were smaller than the last time and just below the surface of the skin. The bumps are also right on top of my ribs - I've got no more breast tissue! So, I felt a lot of pressure. I felt the doc bearing down to send the core biopsy needle into my chest wall. But, I really didn't feel the needle sick at all because of the local anesthetic. And maybe a little bit because I've still got (and may always have) some numbness.

Oh, heck, I am just getting so tired of having 'things' done! I guess it would just be unreasonable to expect that, after the treatment is all done, that nothing medical will need attention in my life anymore. Especially since I'm getting older, too. I can dream, though, right?

I was, however, encouraged by the things the Radiologist said during the procedure. She couldn't and, smartly, wouldn't say anything definitive because the ultimate answer will be the results from pathology. But, I've worked with radiologists long enough to recognize when they are not concerned for tumor. Statements like "I'm not very impressed with that" and  "Squishy, squishy that's what we like" were music to my ears! So, next week when I go skiing, I will be thinking about my knee position and facing down the hill, not about a cancer recurrence.