New lump found today-2009 wins afterall

(by Lyn) I have this image of a boxing ring in the middle of a huge auditorium and in one corner is the year 2009, and on the floor knocked out cold and bleeding on the mats is me. It’s doing a victory dance with its arms in the air cheering, I WIN I WIN. I think it heard me bashing it earlier today, heard me talking about how I cannot wait to say good riddance and it decided to get in one last knockout jab before the new year.

I had a routine post-op appointment with the breast surgeon earlier today, I was looking forward to seeing Kate because I haven’t seen her since my left drain was removed. My oncologist suggested I talk with her about my joint pains and see if she has any ideas (she’s very involved with her patients unlike many surgeons), and to show off my radiation wounds that are still present. I assumed she would check out my chest to make sure I’m healing fine and send me on my way. What I didn’t see coming during the check-up was her fingers stopping in a specific spot on the inner ridge of my right chest. Right on the seam of my bi-lateral cut. Then she said the words we’ve all heard: “It’s probably nothing, but there is a small lump present that I don’t remember being there. I’m sure it’s nothing Lyn, but I don’t like it when I don’t remember these things so let’s do an ultrasound right away to be sure. If they think it’s suspicious I’m ordering an immediate biopsy to follow.”

She wanted to do it today, but I was unable due to having the kids in the car with hubby who had to get back to work and said Monday or Tuesday would be better for me. They said they will schedule it and get back to me. Walking out the door she said ‘well it’s not Inflammatory, whatever it is’. I know it’s illogical to be worried about having another cancer so soon, or to think that the IBC has trekked its way across my chest but I can’t help but be worried and mostly frustrated because I JUST HAD A DOUBLE MASTECTOMY!!!!! I JUST finished twice a day radiation. I just finished hell year. I am supposed to be DONE with ultrasounds, and biopsies and ‘possible cancer’. This is the exact reason I had the elective bi-lateral and full hysterectomy. To avoid this situation. I assumed one might happen in the future, but not today. Not right now. I can’t frickin believe it.  I am going to assume it’s nothing and try not to stress this weekend, but the thought of going to the hospital to start this over again makes me nautious.  Everyone cross your fingers for me that her prediction of ‘I”m sure it’s nothing’ is exactly that this round.

Happy New Hair!

I spent a lot of 2009 worrying about my hair. Yes it seems specious and petty to some, but for me, the growing back of my hair signified a return to health.  Every inch that grew on my scalp meant I was that much closer to being normal.  I started this year with merely a wiffle and I end it with my hair pretty much back to where it was before chemo began –albeit a little shorter and curlier but with help of a flat-iron it looks almost the same.

When I was bald, I wrote the following excerpt one day about my head:

My bald head is shiny and prickly at the same time. When I run my hand from my forehead to the back it feels as silky as a baby’s bottom but when I rub my hand back upwards to the scalp it feels as scratchy as a cat’s tongue.  It is ugly and beautiful and embarrassing and empowering. It screams to the world that I have cancer and it whispers to me at night that I may not survive. It is shapelier than some and tinier than most. There is no hiding under my bald head.  Every wrinkle, line, acne scar stands at attention on my face.

I am so glad I wrote this at the time because if I had to think back and write it now, I don’t think I would remember how I felt so vividly. It’s all just a distant memory now, and even looking at these pictures makes me feel oddly removed from the whole situation –like it happened to someone else.

Happy New Year and may  you all have beautiful healthy hair in 2010!

A New Year (Sheri)

2010 has got to be a better year than 2009. I’d rather not live through another year like the one I’ve just gone through. I’ve heard about women who have battled cancer for YEARS! Not just one year like I have, but more than one – you know, like two years! Or more!

There is one woman whose blog I follow – she’s going to be receiving chemo treatments for the rest of her life. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around that. How do you wake up in the morning knowing there is no end to having poison pumped into your body? I can tell you how: you just do. She’s been called “amazing” and “strong” and “an inspiration,” but like me what she really is is a mom. There are days you wake up and think: That’s it! I don’t think I can do this anymore! But you remember all the people who love you and you love back. And you try very hard not to imagine a world in which your children grow up without their mother, but sometimes you do think about it and it makes you stronger; it gets you out of bed. Your determination grows and you know you’re going to kick some cancer butt (for me that lasts about 15 minutes then I start whining again.)

It’s funny what chemo will do to your brain. When I say funny, I don’t mean “ha ha” funny either. I mean funny in a sense of “give me a second, I’m having a hard time even remembering my name right now”. Today I heard my children having this conversation:

Jacob: Do you remember the day we had to dress up at school as the person we wanted to be when we grew up?
Allison: Yeah, I dressed up as a teacher. I wore boots, a turtleneck shirt and blue jeans.
Jacob: That’s how teachers dress?
Allison: Yes! Duh!

I didn’t say anything even though I was thinking: That’s how teachers dress? But mostly I was thinking how I had absolutely no memory of this dress-up day for them. I was hoping my daughter would ask my son what he dressed up as – I was too ashamed to tell them I didn’t remember this day. And then I thought back on all the special moments I should have remembered this past year: my son’s birthday in April; my daughter’s birthday in July; valentine’s day; Easter; MY birthday… all of it is blank. All of it! I’m sure Tom or my dad or maybe even I took pictures. I’m going to go find those pictures and stare in amazement that I was part of those days.

The point is: cancer stripped a year of my life as a mother from me. I was too sick to help out in the raising of my children, and the things that I might have actually done, I don’t remember. This was only one year for me. One. The number one doesn’t sound like much, but when it comes to the life of my sweet children – being robbed of one is painful. I pray my nightmare journey with cancer is over – if it is not, I will do this coming year exactly what I did last year…survive anyway I have to. I’m a mom – it’s what we do.

trustmeitsnothing

N.E.D. – THE BAND

I have heard that having a guinecological surgeon and oncologist in one is a good find.  I was lucky in that even though I didn’t have a guinecological cancer, there was one of the best of them in the building when my oncologist suggested a hysterectomy along with my mastectomies.  Not only is his picture on the brochure for The Da Vinci machine which shows he knows his stuff, his picture is also on the cover of a new CD his band N.E.D. No Evidence of Disease has just put out.  Every member of the band is a guinecology oncologist or guinecology medical person of some sort.  Here is what I picked up at his office about their mission:

N.E.D. is made up of six gynecologic oncologists who always hope to deliver the sweetest message their patients can ever hear: “NO EVIDENCE OF DISEASE”.  Their mission is to enhance knowledge about gynecologic cancer, to save lives, as well as to bring hope through music to those undergoing treatment, and to the world at large.  Proceeds from every CD sold will be donated to N.E.D. Fund at Gynecologic Cancer Foundation (GCF), which promotes awareness and early detection, and research of gynecologic cancers.

Order the CD at:  www.marjiesfund.org, www.amazon.com, www.borders.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, www.itunes.com    

I wouldn’t normally promote one thing over another, but I know Dr. Winter personally and he’s a good guy who believes in their mission.  He never once said anything to me about his band, or their projects, I only learned of it through other doctors and a small flyer at NW Cancer Specialists.  I haven’t heard the music myself yet, but I am going to pick up a cd soon because I know the proceeds are going to a good cause.

Why 2009 Was WAY Better Than 2008

There’s a song out there with lyrics that basically say “I struggle with forward motion.”  And in 2008, that was the story of my life.  Sometimes I felt like I was having out-of-body experiences…..looking at myself from a distance.  Other times I just felt like I was walking around in a daze.  My kids could say something and they would have to call me 3-4 times before I would answer.  Sometimes that still happens and my daughter Charis has taken to clapping her hands so I’ll hear her….and we wonder where her ADHD comes from:)  So this year, 2009, has been a year of rebuilding and moving forward again.  So I thought I’d give you 10 reasons why this year has been so much better than 2008:

10.  Anything would be better than 2008.  I was 36.  I had the worst kind of breast cancer one can get.  Then they found another softball size mass in my other breast.  It was as if my breasts were the main characters in a horror flick.  Stage 4, then stage 3 (whew).  Weaning my precious baby boy, chemo, mastectomies, and radiation.  Frankly, I don’t even like to think about it….ughhhh.  Let’s move on to number 9.

9.  I was brave enough to take a class towards getting into a nursing program.  These kind of steps are really important after cancer in my opinion.  There is a tendency to feeling more fearful and stepping out of comfort zones to try new things are important to rebuilding confidence.  Trying something new is always a good thing.

8.  Boobs.  I have them.  Enough said.

7.  Charis turned 8, Meleah turned 5 and Elijah turned 2.  All of them a celebration of life and I was so happy to be a part of it.

6.  I was offered a job.  It was nice to feel like someone believed in me.  Thanks Pastor Mark and those that were my cheerleaders.  Here was another help towards getting life back to normal after cancer.

5.  20 pounds less of me.  I like there being less of me, and I have my dear plastic surgeon to thank for smoothing things out.

4.  I started running again after a 10 year hiatus.  When I finally ran 2 miles without stopping I was so stink’in proud of myself!

3.  Some good down-time.  A two-week trip to Florida with my kids for some much-needed relaxation and a short trip to Kentucky with my girlfriends which usually involves gabbing, gabbing and more gabbing, which somehow is so therapeutic to my feminine soul.

2.  Getting an A in my class.  What a relief that chemo in fact DID NOT kill off as many brain cells as once thought.  Shoot….I can’t use that excuse with Jeremy anymore!

1.  NO more cancer.  this one is a given.  I know, so boring.  I wish I could be more creative with number one, and heaven only knows how many times you guys have read “no more cancer” but it really does make life much better.  I like being cancer free.

I hope if 2009 was as rotten for you, as 2008 was for me, that 2010 is year of  hope, strength, rebuilding and forward motion.  May you feel God’s presence today and throughout 2010.