God's Got This

I am blessed. Really, really blessed.  

I didn't just survive cancer, I have beaten it. 

"The biopsy was malignant." Are four words that stike fear in those of us who have received the call. 

Given my family's pathology, the call was no surprise but it was no less terrifying. In fact, my oncologist says that my family history makes her toes curl. 

Overnight I went from only knowing the difference between benign and malignant to a functional knowledge of ductal, invasive ductal and lobular cancers. 

The learning curve was severe but necessary. 

Knowledge really is key in the fight against cancer. 

I am not one to take things strictly at face value. I do my research, speak to others who have walked the path and find as much information as I can process. I prefer information and facts vs how I might feel about something. 

Probably why I despise the "talking heads" on TV. They play on emotion a little too much for me! 

Anyway...

The beast is beaten into remission. 

I have won!

However...

Far, far in the recesses of my brain there is a small molecule of doubt, worry, anxiety. 

All the "what if" questions live there. 

This is where my faith fights my battles. 

I can't quote scripture. I have a horrible memory for scripture, song lyrics or most other quotes...but I'm really good with jokes! 

And, I have faith. 

It's so hard to put into words. 

Dictionary.com defines Faith as: "complete trust or confidence in someone or something."

That someone or something is God.  

"God's got this" is what plays through my head and heart the most. 

According to the American Cancer Society, 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer and of those 1 in 39 will die. While deaths from breast cancer have decreased by 43% it's still going to take more than 43,000 women in the US each year. 

I don't know why I was spared but I have faith that God's got this. 

However, I still ask, "Why?"

Why was I chosen to live? Why me? 

I don't know if I am currently living God's plan or if I will be called into service in the future. Was my purpose to bring humor into the chemo center? Is it so that I can share my experience? 

I don't know. 

Many will say that it doesn't matter and that what matters is that I did beat it and can continue living but I believe that it's bigger than "just living." 

Millions of people will be diagnosed and many won't survive. 

In fact, last week I attended a celebration of life party with a man who was losing his battle with pancreatice cancer. I am so grateful for the opportunity to see him again and hug him one final time. 

But, while talking he looked at me and asked, "How long has it been for you?" 

I didn't realize what he was asking so I replied, "For what?"

He said, "Since you were diagnosed." 

I felt like I'd been hit in the face with a 2x4. 

I have never felt more horrible or more guilty than that very moment. 

There I was standing in front of a man whose life was most likely down to hours explaining that it's been two years since I was diagnosed. 

I wanted to crawl under a rock. 

Survivor guilt is real!

I'm still reeling from it and find myself asking again, "Why was I chosen to live? Why me?" 

Gary passed barely 24 hours after that party. I am grateful that he chose to spend time with the ones he loved and to see everyone one more time. His bravery in allowing people to see him during his last days was amazing. 

His impact will be felt for years as will his loss. 

I pray that my impact on those around me has been and will continue to be positive. 

I may never know why I was spared but I will continue to do my best to continue to share the knowledge I have gained in this process and trust that God's got this. 

Just Be Quiet!

I recently heard a story about a woman who told a co-worker that she'd been diagnosed with breast cancer. The co-worker responded with, "Wow my friend's mom died from breast cancer."

OMG!!!! 

Really?! 

There are so many things that you can say to a woman when she tells you that she's been diagnosed with breast cancer. 

Immediately responding with a death comment is NOT one of them. 

Other things that one should refrain from saying are, "They're just boobs. Since your kids are grown you don't even need them anymore. You'll get a free boob job. Now you can have the boobs you've always wanted. You should...whatever" Save the advice for when you are asked. 

Times like that silence truly is a virtue. 

What should you say?

How about: 

• I'm so sorry.
• What is your treatment plan?
• I'd like to arrange a meal train after your surgery
• I can help you with childcare
• Are you all set for transportation?
• If you ever just want to vent I'm here for you. 
• I have a friend who just went through this can I connect you? 

Although breast cancer patients may have identical diagnoses, patients react differently to the treatments and one size does not fit all. Many of the emotions a patient experiences can be very similar but others can be polar opposites. Experiences may be similar but no two are identical. The most a patient can hope for is to find a kindred spirit who feels what they feel. 

Speaking to someone who has "been there, done that" can be helpful for a couple of reasons: 

• Speaking to a survivor breeds hope
• Only another patient can truly understand what the person is experiencing physically and mentally
• Having walked the path before them can offer advice that comes from first-hand experience
• Often a patient doesn't have to describe what they feel the other person knows and can often verbalize what the "newbie" has yet to flesh out. 

Have you ever met someone who went through a similar experience to whatever you were going through at the moment and they say something that describes the thoughts that have been swirling through your brain but haven't yet been able to verbalize? 

It feels like they could read your mind and put your thoughts into words. 

It's a miraculous moment. 

Connection at a time when life feels like its unraveling is vital because it's grounding. 

Being told that you have cancer is horrific. Because of my family history with it I was not shocked but that does not mean that it wasn't terrifying. Being able to speak to someone that has already walked the path is comforting. 

It's the reason that 12 Step programs like AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) work so well. 

The flellowship of AA is just as important as the actual steps. Being with others who know exactly what you are going through is life altering. Not having to constantly fish for words that descibe feelings takes a weight of one's shoulders and allows the person to "just be." 

I belong to a group on facebook for breast cancer patients. These women were lifesaving in the early days of my diagnosis and treatment. There is so much to learn and understand overnight. I didn't have to give background, I could just pop on, post a question or say how I was feeling and BAM immediately they would begin responding. They knew exactly how I felt.

To this day, I can't put into words the level of comfort that it would give me.

I didn't have to explain anything, listen to horrifying stories of dead loved ones or respond to insensitive comments. 

If you don't know what to say, then just say so! 

Don't try to come up with something cute or offer advice on traveling a path you have never walked. It just makes you look like a know it all and, frequently, stupid! 

Mark Twain put it best, "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to talk and remove all doubt." 

When in doubt, say nothing. 

What's Your Worth

You are not your hair, your ass, your boobs or any other physical trait. It's something that we all need to take to heart and please...don't raise your daughters to believe that their looks are more important than their character.   

A person's self-worth is not determined by their looks. 

If you have defined yourself by your boobs and your hair, get breast cancer and lose both, you will have no self left. 

Not only that but we are so much more than our looks! 

Do you know who you are? What you stand for? What matters most to you? What you are willing to walk through fire for? 

Seriously, cancer treatment is difficult enough without having to redefine who you are in the middle of it. 

Personally, my boobs were too small to be a defining factor and honestly, my hair always irritated me. 

For me, losing both was not a hardship. 

Unlike most other female cancer patients I have met, I liked being bald...especially in the summer. 

Hair is hot. 

I've suffered from hot flashes for seven years and not having hair was such a blessing. It's been a year since my last chemo so it's grown in but I'm still dealing with the chemo curl (feels like standard poodle hair) and once again, I'm sweating. 

But I digress...

Let's talk about self-worth. 

Self-worth and self-esteem are not the same thing. 

According to the University of North Carolina Wilmington "Self-worth is the internal sense of being good enough and worthy of love and belonging from others. Self-worth is often confused with self-esteem, which relies on external factors such as successes and achievements to define worth and can often be inconsistent leading to someone struggling with feeling worthy."

If you want people's take-away to be, "she has a great rack" you are concentrating on the external factors and headed for trouble. 

Unless you have money like Dolly Parton and can get nipped and tucked whenever you feel like, time and gravity are your enemy. 

If you are judging yourself based on your looks your esteem's days are numbered.  

How many times have you heard things like, "Looks can be deceiving"? Just because something looks good doesn't mean that it is. 

Pretty does not always equal good. 

We've all known the person who thinks they are better than everyone because they look better. All of my high school years come to mind. Often the "mean girls" are beautiful but treat others as if they are lesser beings because they aren't as physically attractive. 

Well ladies, just wait until that 30 year reunion! 

A person with a well defined self-worth will not tolerate being treated poorly by others nor with they have to knock others down to elevate themselves. 

Someone with low self-esteem will make poor relationship choices, sabatoge relationships and settle for a bad relationship as a trade for financial security. 

Does this mean that you should never tell your daughters they are pretty? No! 

https://www.psychologytools.com/self-help/low-self-esteem/

Should you emphasize brains and accomplishments over looks? Absolutely! 

According to Cancer.gov 12.9% of the women born in the US will develop breast cancer. 

The number one risk factor for developing breast cancer is... Being Female! 

Yup! You read that right. 

Being a woman is the greastest risk factor of developing breast cancer. In fact, 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer. 

Think about eight women closest to you...have any had breast cancer? 

Less than 5% of the women who develop breast cancer are linked to genetic mutations all the rest are environmental. 

From 2004 to 2018 breast cancer rose .3% which means that 502,500 more women were diagnosed than in the decade before that. 

Could be that early detection is better but...so much of what is allowed in food, cleaning products and even the water supply is also linked to cancers. 

According to a study published in the National Library of Medicine, "The Surveillance, Epidemiology, and End Results (SEER) Program of the National Cancer Institute (NCI) regularly publishes lifetime risks of being diagnosed with each type of cancer.2 According to these estimates, the lifetime risk of all invasive cancers in the USA is 42.05% and 37.58% for men and women, respectively."

Those are some pretty scary numbers! 

While not all cancers cause external physical changes, many of the treatments do...especially in the case of breast cancers. 

Defining who you are by your physical traits is already a slippery slope to begin with but ladies, with a 37.58% chance of getting a cancer and eduring a treatment that includes chemo, women who have been raised to believe that their worth equals their looks are subject to even greater psychological damage. 

The emotional and mental battle that comes with battling cancer is already hard, let's not make it worse by raising daughters who have a badly defined sense of self to begin with!

Sometimes

Sometimes life is great and sometimes it sucks beyond words. 

This past year has been both. 

I've experienced the love and care of friends in ways that are indescribable. 

I've also experienced pain, suffering and loss. 

It's been a crazy rollercoaster! 

While being diagnosed with cancer was terrible, it did not come as a surprise. My family history of cancers is horrifying. 

The surgery itself wasn't bad but the drain bags were miserable. the one on the left wasn't horrible but the subcutaneous tube on the right sat on a rib and rolled back and forth when I moved. It hurt for two weeks after the drain was removed. 

Then there was the car...The Ford Escape that became the bane of our existence! Ford corp did help but they truly should have footed the bill for the whole thing. It was a collosal nightmare. 

And, don't forget that I hit a deer hours after I borrowed a friend's truck while the Ford was in the shop. 

Yeah...it was a year of memories all right. 

But, there was so much good. 

My openness about my experience led so many women to have their mammograms not the least of whom was my sister. 

Has she waited she would be dying today rather than being a cancer survivor. 

Her one and only mammogram found a lump. The biopsy confirmed her cancer and her life then switched to doctor appointments, consultations, chemo and reconstruction. 

I have mentioned my family cancer history in the past, I wasn't being dramatic. 

My family tree is one headstone after another of people who died of cancer. Fortunately, thanks to education and awareness, many of us have caught it early and are survivors rather than victims. My mom, sister and I are all cancer survivors but...we each had a different type of cancer and do not have any of the genetic markers for breast cancer. 

Soooooo.... Be very careful about what you eat and the water that you drink. 

Personally, I think it's only a matter of time until the scientists either find another DNA link or they discover the combination that causes the breast cancer. Genetic testing for BRCA 1&2 has only been around for 20 years. The strides in genetic testing since then are huge! 

Unfortunately, the biggest detector is the mammogram. 

Yes, it sucks. Yes, it hurts but death from something that could have been stopped early is so much worse. 

So, ladies...Tits up! Get in the damn machine...Just do it. 

Let's get back to the good shall we? 

What was good about last year? 

Hats! 

Normally I am not a hat wearer but, my friends started sending me these awesome hats for when I lost my hair and I started wearing them on chemo days. Then, I continued every three weeks for the Herceptin treatments. 

It took on a life of it's own. 

It became so much more than just a hat. 

I was giving people a temporary relief from their misery. 

And, let's be honest here, chemo is misery. Despite the good-natured humor and insanity that is Vanessa, there were days that I couldn't lift my head off my pillow. I would just sleep or lie in bed and cry. 

The love and compassion I received from friends and family was astounding. It helped me to push through the crap days and appreciate the good ones so much more. 

Not only was I able to make the other patients smile and laugh but the staff laughed at my antics. 

Let's talk about the staff.

From the doctors and nurses to the front office people the shear number of people in the oncologist office and infusion center is amazing. 

While there are many success stories like myself, there are so many others who are there for paliative care. Their days are numbered and they are receiving treatment as a means to delay the inevitable. 

Imagine being the person behind the glass that has to greet people or the doctor that has to tell them there is nothing more that they can do. Or the nurse who sits with them while they have their treatment. 

Their jobs are so very tough. 

Now imagine having the power to make each of those people smile because you put on a crazy hat or wore a silly costume. 

Imagine that you are the person who gives everyone the excited anticipation on "what will she do next?"

I got to be that person. 

It was an honor to be that person. 

My next appointment isn't for three months! Even though it's stopping for a good reason, it feels so strange to having something that has been such a huge part of my life for a year, just stop. 

I get to move on but I will miss the other patients and the staff that I've seen every three weeks for a year. 

Thank you to everyone at the Abramson Cancer Center  in West Chester. You not only saved my life but you did it with humility, humor, love and grace. 

I will forever be grateful for all of you. 

My Nature

This might come as a surprise but...

I'm A LOT!

Just a lot of, well, everything.  

I do everything at full-speed and 100%. 

Except the laundry. 

I hate the laundry. 

I really, really hate it. 

But I digress...

I put 100% into everything I do. Could be knitting, painting, cake, business, friendships, love life, motherhood...whatever. I push myself all the time. 

I don't just accept a challenge, I tackle it. 

I'm a fighter and I always get back up. 

I just can't stay down. 

When I was diagnosed with cancer there was only one way for me to handle it. The same way I handle everything else: full steam ahead, gloves up, no hesitation. 

From lump to chemo, I knew I would fight. I was not going to let that bitch win!

I've been competitive my entire life, I hate to be doubted and I love to prove people wrong!

My mom knew this and used to tell my swim coaches that the best way to motivate me was to tell me they didn't think I could do something. 

That was how I set the 50M butterfly record in high school and the diving record in college. 

I come from a family who works hard, doesn't give up and doesn't shy away from confrontation. 

I was raised by very strong-minded people, but it's also my nature. 

Dictionary.com defines nature as: the basic or inherent features of something especially when seen as characteristic of it. 

I think that Aesop demonstrated nature best in the fable The Scorpion and the Frog: 

Drawing by Michael Morgenstern

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion says, "Because if I do, I will die too." 

The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown, but has just enough time to gasp, "Why?

Replies the scorpion: "Its my nature..." 

Many times in my life, I have cut my nose off to spite my face because I speak my mind. 

One of the things I also do 100% is talk...even when I know I shouldn't. 

It's my nature. 

But, my nature keeps me from quitting...I just don't.  

While it is my nature, my drive also comes from my parents. Dad was a sailor. In all the years we sailed I think we dropped out of two races. One was because we hit something and ripped the rudder off the stern of the boat and the other was total lack of wind, the crew was threatening mutiny and a keg party awaited us. 

Dad was a smart man who knew when to cut his losses! 

While we were never a horse family, the philosophy of "getting back on the horse" was practiced. Failure wasn't really a failure unless you gave up trying.

When I was in high school I was practicing for the summer Tri-County diving championships and was temporarily distracted...in mid air...and landed flat on my back in the water...in front of everyone!  

I was crying hysterically, was going to give up and go home but mom wouldn't let me. Through gritted teeth she told me to stop whining and get back on the board. 

Yeah, my back hurt...like hell actually...but my pride was hurt worse and the only way to get over that was to get back up there and show it who's boss! 

I did get back on the board, I did execute the perfect dive and I did win Tri-County that year! 

Everyone will fall down and make mistakes and everyone will fail at some point in their lives. Life is not a cake-walk. It's hard, messy and can be painful.

When I was a kid if I said something wasn't fair dad would always reply, "No one ever said life was fair." 

He was right. It's not. 

But, it can be filled with a myriad of blessings and lessons that will make us better and stronger. 

You can live in the negative or you can see the opportunity. 

Your choice. 

Failing at something is different from being a failure. 

Failing is an opportunity to improve and correct, failure is a mindset. 

Failure, to me, is the equivalent of being a victim. 

I am not a cancer victim, I am in the process of becoming a cancer survivor. 

There is a difference. 

Besides, it's my nature. 

The Bell & The Ball

I rang the bell!!!! 

I turned out to be a bigger deal for me than I thought it would. 

Seriously, it was big! 

I came really close to crying. 

My outfit for the day was a winged pig with the theme, "Chemo may be over, but I won't stop fighting until pigs fly." 

I made a ton of winged pig cookies to give to well, everyone and brought a huge basket of stuff to give away. 

Friends and loved ones have been so generous but there were so many things that I wasn't going to use. Rather than have them sit on a shelf in a closet, I thought it would be best to take the basket with me. I put a large note on the front that said, "If there is something here that could help you or a loved one, please take it." 

I put it on a table in the waiting area and told everyone there to help themselves and they did! 

As usual I bounced around at chemo handing out cookies, talking with the other patients and staff and laughed a lot! 

Then we headed home and, as usual, I was crazy busy Friday and Saturday nights! 

For a number of years now I have volunteered for the Silent Auction Committee for the Southern Chester County Chamber of Commerce at the Annual Gala. We have such a good time and the money we raise goes to the scholarship fund for graduating seniors. 

This year, due to covid, we had to change the date and the location of the event. It's normally held in March but we had to postpone until September and I am proud to say that it was a huge success! 

Fortunately, because it was on a Saturday night, I was still hopped up on steroids from chemo the day before. I felt great and had plenty of energy to get through the event and finish a cake when I got home.  

Speaking of the steroids...I have gained about 15 pounds during this experience and had nothing to wear. 

I had to be at the venue at 4:30. I didn't discover the wardrobe issue 2pm. Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out! 

I called a friend of mine, who had lost a bunch of weight, hoping that she hadn't cleaned out her closet, to see if she had something I could borrow and...

She did!!! 

I went from having nothing, to having a gorgeous dress that fit like it was made for me. 

Woohoo!!! 

So relieved. 

The only problem was that the bodice would flop open if I leaned forward. 

Huge shout out to Tina at the The Stone Barn in Kennett Square. She found a huge box of safety pins and helped me pin the bodice closed so my scars wouldn't traumatize anyone. 

After we got the dress pinned Tina headed out to finish setting up and I stayed in the ladies room to do my make-up and bedazzle my head. 

It was a wonderful night with great food, fantastic music and a lovely venue. 

I have been a member of the chamber since I opened my business. So many friends came over to congratulate me on ringing the bell. 

We talked about my decision to not wear a wig and about my bedazzled head. 

They also shared stories of loved ones who are fighting the battle now. 

I am blessed. 

All things considered my fight has been an easy one and my prognosis is excellent. 

Yeah, I have side effects that I'm still dealing with but everything could have been so much worse. 

I'm seriously considering becoming a volunteer at the cancer center. 

I enjoy talking to the other patients, finding ways to make both patients and staff laugh and help take the weight off their shoulders for a while. 

It feels good to help people and if something good can come from this then maybe that's why I was there to begin with. 

Laughter Is Medicine

Going through chemo has been the most amazing and weirdest experience of my life. 

It has given me the ultimate excuse to unleash my weird but also has given me an appreciation for the importance of attitude and the need to laugh. 

Not just an LOL that we all use, that really means smiling softly to myself, but true "guffaw" style laughter that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water. 

If you've known me for oh, like five minutes, you know that I have a really odd sense of humor and work really hard to not take myself seriously. But this experience has shown me that my attitude can, and does, have a direct impact on others. 

Whether other patients or the medical staff, I love to make people laugh. 

Two weeks ago I arrived at chemo dressed in a chicken headband and beak  - Chemo Chicken- and handed out slingshot chickens. I gave them to all the patients and the staff and watched as people shot them at each other. 

It was great fun. 

Patients told me last week that their kids and grandkids were still playing with the chickens! 

The staff has told me that they love when I come in and that, after a whole week of working with cancer patients, they look forward to my being there. 

Those words are the wind beneath my wings. (See what I did there?)

I love to help people and I love to know that I've had an impact. 

Don't we all. 

When all is said and done in this life, is the cleanliness of our house or the model of our car what people will remember or will it be how they felt when they were with us?

We all know that "Debbie Downer" (sorry if your name is Debbie) person who sucks the happy out of a room. I want to be the sunshine in the room. The person who makes people happy when they walk in. 

And why not? When they laugh, I laugh. Let's be honest here, sometimes I laugh the hardest. Did you know that laughter really is good medicine? 

No, really, it is! 

According to HelpGuide.com Laughter can: 

• Boost your immune system
• Relax you
• Release endorphins
• Improve heart health
• Reduce stress
• Burn calories 

Evidently I need to laugh more 'cause I got some pounds to lose. 

Seriously though, with all those benefits who wouldn't want to laugh more? 

But honestly, it can be really difficult. Not all circumstances are funny and, despite my propensity to do so, not everything is a laughing matter. 

The question that matters is: How can I improve this situation or the situation of the lives of the people around me? 

Recently, my best friend's mother passed away. Although it was sad to lose her, she lived a great, long life, was well loved by her enormous family and had a wonderful impact on everyone she ever met. 

At the funeral my friend had a tough time collecting herself. When I arrived she was surrounded by a bunch of people who were telling her to breath and trying to calm her. 

Yeah...worst thing ever! 

What she needed was "Vanessa's Crazy" to get her out of her own head, not advice on how to calm herself. She already knew she was our of sorts and didn't need to hear it. Telling someone they need to calm down, even when they do, is the worst. 

Truly, has anyone ever actually calmed down at the mention of their need to do so?  

I jumped in, inserted my wacky sense of humor (that we share) and in short order I had her laughing and joking and was able to help her get through the viewing and funeral. 

She has been there for me for most of my life and I was more than glad to help her through that day and others. We've been BFFs for almost 40 years. We know each other inside and out and all I have to do is call her, tell her I'm having a crappy day and before I know it we are laughing hysterically. 

Recently my "little" sister was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent a double mastectomy today. It was a really long surgery, nearly 8 hours long, but is over and she is being moved ICU for the next night or two. 

While I have not been worried about the surgery I was VERY worried about the pathology. Working on becoming a cancer survivor myself, all I really cared about was what her margins are and whether or not her nodes were clear. 

I do not know about the margins or the rest of the surgical pathology yet, that may be weeks, but the nodes were clear! 

Whew! 

Now I can breath and she can get on with healing. 

Her surgery was much more extensive than mine so her healing time will be much longer and more complicated but, at least she's off to a good start. 

Because of the stupid virus, only her husband will be allowed to visit. In fact, she wasn't even allowed to have him there for the pre-op stuff. 

The stress of bein alone was horrible for her.

So, of course, I called her this morning and got her to laugh. We stayed on the phone talking about how much I tortured her when she was a kid, laughing of course, until her doctor came in. After that things moved quickly and before she knew it she was off to surgery. 

I will sleep a little better tonight knowing that my sister is through the surgery and resting well. There will be crappy days of tears and doubt ahead and I will hold her hand when possible or just be an ear on the other end of the phone. I also know the pain she is headed for and will be ready with funny memes and anecdotes to take her mind off things. 

Most importantly, I will make her laugh. 

Two Down, Ten To Go!

I've had two chemo treatments so far. 

Honestly, the chemo treatments themselves aren't bad. In fact, it's pretty relaxing!

Having the port installed was not relaxing despite the drugs they gave me. 

They put me under conscious sedation which means that I was still sort of awake but didn't care. 

The problem is that lidocaine and novacaine wear off super fast in my body. The doctor had to give me extra lidocaine half way through the procedure. 

I did warn him that this was going to be necessary but I don't think he took me as seriously as he should have. 

After the port was installed I was sent back to the pre-op/recovery area where my wonderful friend Julie waited for me. 

Julie is an amazing person who is a retired oncology nurse. She answers all my questions and keeps my anxiety riddle brain at ease. 

Julie and I met a couple of years ago when she was assigned to my Mother's of Preschoolers (Mops) group as our Mentor Mom.  

Mops is an amazing Christian based program that brings moms together to help one another through, what is undoubtedly, one of the hardest times of life. Although the boys are going into third grade now, I have been a member of Mops since before they were one year old.  

Mops has been my lifeline for years! 

I thought I was going to go insane from the isolation, when Covid ravaged the coutry and forced us all into quarantine. To help keep what little sanity I have, Julie started coming to my house once a week with a bag chair, a cup of coffee and a blanket so that I could have company. 

We would sit out in the sunshine on the lawn and just talk.

We have continued to meet weekly and Julie was one of the first people I called when I was diagnosed. 

Surgery, chemo, port installations, etc. are really scary when you have no idea what is going on. 

Julie is the calm in my storm these days. 

I can message her with the dumbest stuff and she never criticizes me. She just answers my questions and makes me feel normal. Not an easy task, I can assure you!

Because Glenn was going to be taking me to chemo that week, I asked if Julie could bring me to get the port put in. I'm so grateful that she was there. She understands things that neither my hubby nor I do. 

The port hurt like hell! 

It was so bad that night, I almost vomited while trying to eat dinner. 

So, of course, I called Julie! 

It really wasn't the actual port that hurt. What was bothering me was the area on my neck where they accessed my artery and then pressure dressed it with a folded up gauze pad and tegaderm (clear plastic medical tape). The gause pad was putting so much pressure on my neck that I could feel it when I swallowed and it hurt to move. 

They closed the area with surgical glue so I didn't even need the pressure dressing. We decided that removing that part would be ok. 

I washed my hands, got out the Neosporin band-aids and got to work. 

After the gauze had been removed and replaced with the bandaid most of the pain in my neck went away. 

The purple thing and the catheter are under my skin. In the picture above, the stuff on the top is the needle and catheter through which the drugs flow. 

The port is on my chest, the catheter goes into my carotid artery. 

The port is fantastic! They can draw blood through it and also give the drugs through it. No more poking my arm everytime they need blood. 

The reason everything is taped up in that picture is that after they finished installing the port they left the needle in (accessed) so that I didn't have to endure a needle stick the next day when I started the chemo. 

While I am very grateful to have it, the first few days of having the port in were terrible. According to the doctor I had "higher than normal bruising/swelling" which was most likely contributing to the discomfort. 

Evidently I'm special! 

The neck is a pretty tight place and a little swelling goes a long way. 

Exaserbating things was the fact that the Tegaderm ate my skin...literally. My skin came off when they removed the tape and the tape has to be removed to remove the needle. 

By the following Friday (Chemo day 2) almost all of the swelling was down, most of the bruising was gone and Julie reminded me to use my Emla cream prior to going in for my infusion.   

Emla is a prescription lidocaine cream. It is heaven in a tube! 

I squirt a blob onto my skin on the top of the port then apply plastic wrap. The plastic keeps the cream from getting absorbed into a bandage or gause pad and numbs the area. It worked like a charm! I didn't even feel the needle when she put it into the port! 

As I mentioned earlier, chemo is a pretty chill event. The nurses are super nice! Each patient has their own TV, Wifi is free and there is a volunteer who gets us beverages and snacks.  The pumps unplug and have a four hour battery runtime which allows us to walk around if we want to and we are free to go to the bathroom whenever we need. 

Most people (myself included) picture chemo with lots of vomiting and horror stories. While vomiting does happen for some patients, it doesn't happen there. It usually takes a couple days for the drugs to work their way into the system. 

People don't vomit the moment the drugs start flowing. 

Most of us sleep or watch TV. Some people can even work and bring laptops. 

I sleep :) 

The order of my infusion is: Steroids, Benedryl, Taxol, Herceptin. 

The steroids give me great energy for the next couple of days but it doesn't kick in right away. The Benadryl is precautionary to keep me from having a reaction to the Taxol. Taxol is the chemo drug and the Herceptin is the Her2 blocker. From when I arrive to when I leave it's approximately four hours. 

Usually I fall asleep once the Taxol is started and sleep until the Herceptin is almost finished. 

Glenn drives me to chemo then goes to Wawa and picks up lunch. 

We eat lunch together then I pass out. 

Last week he ran errands while I was sleeping. 

By 3-4pm on Friday I am feeling pretty good and by evening the steroids have me FLYING!!! 

I can clean the house, fold the laundry, finish cakes, bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan! LOL! 

Unfortunately, sleeping on Friday nights is also an issue. 

That issue is usually gone by 2pm on Sunday. 

Once the steroids wear off, I crash. 

Mondays are tough because my energy is low and the chemo fatigue sets in. 

 I have dubbed Tuesdays "Taxol Tuesday" as that's when the tummy issues start. 

Taxol Tuesday's Breakfast of Champions is coffee, toast, Immodium and Zofran. 

The Taxol creates issues bad enough that I need to take 1/2 and immodium every day but I increase that to a full one on Monday and Tuesday. 

I am blessed that the Zofran is doing it's job and I have not thrown up...yet. 

Each week is different so we'll see. 

The other charming side effect is acid reflux. 

OMGness it's horrible! 

Nexium makes 20 mg mini-capsules. I take one in the morning and one in the evening to combat the heartburn. (Just FYI - if you are undergoing chemo don't add anything unless you check with a pharmacist to make sure you won't have a bad reaction with the chemo drugs). 

I still have my hair. They keep telling me that it's going to fall out. I was going to get it cut then thought, "Why waste the money?" So, it's an unruly mop! 

As I've mentioned previously, I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. Mostly hate. It's been the one constant that has driven me crazy for most of my life. 

I'm ready to not have to deal with it for a while.  

I decided to go to church on Sunday since the mask mandates have been fully lifted. While getting ready I took and shower and had to shave my legs. 

I was so annoyed! 

All I could think of was, "Can we hurry up the hairloss thing?"

Pacifically

As I mentioned in my last post, there was a "spot" on my spine that showed up on my bone scan. 

That set off a chain reaction that left me in bed all day on Saturday bawling my eyes out. 

It was bound to happen eventually and I did feel a little better afterwards. We really do need a good cry from time to time. 

A friend calls these Cancer Sucks days. 

So let me back track a bit here...

Got the bone scan results that said there was something there but felt that it was most likely degeneration. Then I had the breast MRI that showed the tumor being significantly larger than what they saw in the mammogram...I'll get to that shortly. 

My surgeon wanted to make sure that the spine thing wasn't a huge issue so she ordered an MRI. The insurance company declined to authorize it because I hadn't had an x-ray, because paying for an unnecessary x-ray makes sense, so I had an x-ray and that showed something there too. 

That was on Friday...then I waited again. 

The weight of what might be in my spine hit me on Saturday while I was out delivering cakes and I had a total meltdown. I got someone to cover my shift at the store, went home, crawled under the covers and stayed there crying and napping all day. 

Part of my pity party was because I hate pity parties!! The other was because I am competely powerless and felt like I was taking two steps back for every step forward. It's a roller coaster I wouldn't wish on anyone.

My prayers were frantic. I couldn't put a cohesive thought together and just kept saying, "God's got this." Honestly, I really do believe that but I got into my head and started the "what if I have bone cancer" game. Fortunately, the Lord knows my heart and even when I am depressed, angry or frustrated he really is holding me up. 

But, it doesn't mean I can't be pissed off or that I don't need a good cry! 

I managed to pull myself together in time to eat dinner then went back to bed. 

Monday rolled around and I met with the genetic counselor. It probably wasn't a waste of time, but it felt like it was. I had my mom's genetic report with me and after the counselor looked at it she said, "Your mom was negative for all seven of the genes that she was tested for. You most likely won't have the BRCA gene which is fantastic." I replied, "Well, considering that I have breast cancer it doesn't really matter now does it?" 😳

The appointment consisted of me telling the counselor my family history while she drew a flow chart. We have an $80 copay for specialists. So, I paid $80 for someone to write down my horrible family cancer history. I am a candidate for genetic testing but it's more money and well...it's more money. 

The worst part of the appointment was that no one bothered to tell me that I was going to be meeting with this counselor in an infusion center. The waiting room was filled with a plethora of other cancer patients in various stages of treatment. To get into the counselor's office I had to walk through the actual infusion area which I was definitely not ready for. I know, I know, I'll be there eventually and at that time I'll know I'm walking into an infusion center. It really was traumatic.  

That afternoon the radiologist's report came in confirming what the more advanced bone scan had already found. Although both radiologists felt it was degenerative, because of my breast cancer, they recommended an MRI with and without contrast. 

My nurse navigator got me right into Jennersville for an MRI on Tuesday afternoon. By this point I've had blood drawn, a nuclear injection for the bone scan and the injection for the contrast for the breast MRI all in my right arm. I had the nurse give me the injection for the contrast in my left arm and well, now I look like a junkie. 

Hot! 

Both the radiologist at Jennersville and the radiologist at Penn Medicine have read the MRI and confirmed that there is no cancer on my spine...it's arthritis. Yay for getting older. 

I met with my surgeon yesterday morning and surgery is confirmed for Monday, May 17. I won't know the time until the Friday before. 

She will be performing a double mastectomy with sentinel node biopsy. I have requested that she do an aesthetic flat closure that leaves no spare skin as I will not be having reconstruction. Surgery is expected to last approximately four hours depending on the sentinel node biopsies. If it comes back clear we are good to go. If not she'll have to take more. 

Now let's back up to the breast MRI...

The tumor was larger for a couple of reasons: 1. They can see it 3D in the breast MRI where the Mammogram is flat, because...that's how they make your boobs. 2. I have both invasive and non-invasive cancers in my right breast. Until they breach the duct walls and invade the breast tissue they are contained which means they are currently non-invasive. Non-invasive is considered Stage 0. 

All together the tumor is 6 cm but only 2 cm are invasive so I don't need chemo before surgery. If the invasive stuff was 4 cm or more, I'd do chemo first to shrink it and then have the surgery. 

In my last post I mentioned HER2. HER2-positive breast cancer is a breast cancer that tests positive for a protein called human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2). This protein promotes the growth of cancer cells. In about 1 of every 5 breast cancers, the cancer cells have extra copies of the gene that makes the HER2 protein.

Evidently, I'm the one out of five. 

Winner! 

Ugh! 

Now that we know I am HER2 positive my chemo plan will be a little more aggresive and I will be given Herceptin via infusion for a year. HER2 inhibitors work against HER2-positive breast cancers by blocking the ability of the cancer cells to receive chemical signals that tell the cells to grow.

Of course the actual chemo plan won't be confirmed until after surgery and the pathology comes back. 

In the meantime, I started taking Reishi mushrooms. A friend also gave me a book called Medicinal Mushrooms. It is an easy read and fascinating! Reishi mushrooms are really bitter but the good news is that I can put the tincture in my coffee and can't taste it! 

Clinical studies with Reishi have found that patients have a better response to chemo while using it and if stay with it my immune system will be stronger too. I bought dried ones and decocted them. In order to decoct them I had to boil them for an hour then strain off the water and squeeze out the mushroom. They never got soft but I did get lost of "juice" that I was able to use this week. I have run out of the juice so I'll be going to The Woodlands at Phillips Mushrooms Farms to buy some other mushrooms until the ones I ordered arrive. They sell the book there too if you are interested. 

And, if all this wasn't already enough to digest, our central AC decided to quit this week! I mean when you have a family medical deductible of $9,000 (thanks for that Obama) what's another $5,000 right? 

Yup! So we are weighing our options and will most likely replace both the AC and furnace. Both are more than 20 years old and it would be at least $1800 just for the freon because they use new stuff now. If we have to do one we might as well bite the proverbial bullet and do them both. But seriously...Now? 

Managing stress has been crazy hard this week. Thankfully God blessed me with two of the most amazing hysterical children in the world. They keep me on my toes and make me laugh. Today we were driving David to gymnastics and I challenged them to say Irish Wrist Watch five times fast. The result had me laughing so hard I had tears streaming down my cheeks. 

Daniel then said, "I want Kieran to try this." David asked, "Why pacifically Kieran?" Daniel yelled, "PACIFIC IS AN OCEAN."

I came really close to shooting coffee out my nose! 

BTW it was only last week that Daniel was also saying "pacifically." 

Thanks for the laughs guys...I really needed them this week! 

Patience...

...is a virtue I lack. 

Everything involved with this process involves waiting and it is beyond stressful. 

Have a test? 

Wait for the result. 

Have a question? 

Wait for the reply. 

Follow up with the doctor? 

Wait for that appointment. 

Want to schedule surgery? 

You'll have to wait a few weeks to get on the roster. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAH! 

I do have a surgery date though. 

May 17, 2021 will be the day I go in for the double mastectomy.

Yes, I have to wait another 18 days for that too! 

But...

No more bras!!!! 

I decided that I am definitely not interested in having the reconstruction done as the statistics for additional surgeries/failure are really high. Instead, I have a beloved friend who has agreed to design a chest tattoo for me. 

I am so excited and can't wait to see what she creates!!! 

In the meantime, we are still waiting for the Her2 pathology. 

What is HER2?

The human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2) gene is responsible for producing HER2 proteins. HER2 proteins are present on the surface of some breast cancer cells. When they’re activated, they signal breast cancer cells to divide and multiply. 

Normally, HER2 proteins regulate and control the growth of breast cells. But when the HER2 gene is mutated, which is the case in about 1 in every 5 cases of breast cancer, it makes too many HER2 proteins. This results in breast cells growing and dividing out of control.

So you can see why this is important pathology! 

I had a bone scan that showed a weird thing with my spine that the radiologist says is most likely degeneration but it also is in the area where I had a spinal fusion in 1990. I will have to have a CT scan to double check and rule out anything else. 

Next week I meet with a genetic counselor but I'm not entirely sure why and I will also see my surgeon again to go over the tests and discuss surgery. Hopefully, we'll have the Her2 back. 

With the surgery date set, I have begun to prep. 

My employees (greatest people on the face of the earth BTW) are  ready to jump in and do whatever is necessary. My business partner has been training extra people to cover shifts in our store and I have added a ton of people to the pick-up list at the kids’ school. 

After surgery it will be a minimum of two weeks before I can really do anything so another friend and pink ribbon sister has set up a Take Them A Meal link for people to help out. This is the link if you would like to sign up. https://takethemameal.com/FYPS6898  

Countless numbers of people have offered assistance for things from folding our laundry (you are saints) to transporting the boys to their activities. Even my hubby’s employer told him to take whatever time he needs. 

No matter what, this is a crappy situation but the outpouring of love and support has blessed us with peace of mind and we couldn’t ask for more!  

Until next time ladies...

A Language Unto Itself

Four and a half years ago, mom, siblings, niece and nephews, cousins and an aunt and uncle accompanied my dad to the hospital to have his cancerous bladder removed. The doctor never got the chance. The cancer had grown so fast that it had breeched the bladder wall and invaded his abdomen.

He was opened and closed.

When the doctor arrived in the waiting area 45 minutes into what was supposed to be a 4-6 hour surgery I look at him and said, "Oh shit! This can't be good."

After my dad regained consciousness in the recovery room my mom and siblings stood at his side as the surgeon delivered the death sentence.

It was one of the worst moments of my life.

Prior to that surgery date, my mom and I has taken dad to meet with an Oncologist in Baltimore and I remember sitting in that little exam room listening to the doctor tell my dad what types of chemicals they were going to pump into him.

I took copious notes and studied up on all of the lingo associated with chemo.

We could never get him strong enough to endure the chemo. He opted to just have the surgery but even that was not an option.

He died less than two months after that Oncology appointment.

Cancer: 1 My family: 0

Two weeks ago, my siblings and I accompanied my mother to the hospital outpatient wing to have a lumpectomy that would remove the breast cancer that had invaded her body.

After my mom was taken into the prep area and well, prepped, my siblings and I were escorted back to stay with her until the took her into surgery.

As I entered the pre-op area I had a flashback of the recovery area we walked into four years ago. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and telling myself, "Not the same, not the same."

She came through surgery with flying colors and, despite arguing with me about almost everything, had recuperated very well.

Tie score!

Today we sat in an exam room in the same complex where we had taken my dad in Baltimore and listened to another doctor describe the toxins they were going to pump into my mother.

Oncology is a language unto itself.

One I had hoped to never have to learn...again!

There are two standard types of chemo that would work for my mom based on her hormone receptors and her HER2...still not entirely clear on that but it has something to do with proteins...and how they attack the ducts and breast tissue.

There is no such thing as good chemo but one protocol is a little tougher to tolerate than the other. We were referring to the second as chemo "light." Not that it's really any 'lighter' but it's four treatments over 12 weeks as opposed to eight treatments over 16 weeks.

There are other things that we've learned, one of which is that nearly 80% of all cancer patients are cured by surgery but there is no way to determine the difference between the 80 and the 20 and chemo is recommended to keep any rogue cancer cells from migrating and taking root in another part of the body. In other words, clear margins don't necessarily mean that there is no more cancer.

Another is that there are no two cancer patients that are the same. Cancer is a mutation and those mutations differ from one patient to another.

Chemo is really an insurance policy against one of those mutations implanting itself into another of my mom's organs. But...there are no guarantees.

The difference between my mom's cancer and the cancer that took my dad couldn't be greater but I constantly have to check myself to keep from going to the "worst case scenario" and "what if" crap that my brain likes to toy with.

Staying positive can be extremely difficult but I have to repeat the, "Not the same, not the same" mantra that I said over and over again in the hospital two weeks ago.

I have never been a terribly religious person. I consider myself to be a Christian as I believe in Jesus but I tend to venture more toward the spiritual side of worship and prayer. I talk to God every day and also find that prayer has a way of calming me down and focusing on the things that are important.

What is important is to concentrate on the here and now and give thanks for what we have.

We are blessed that she caught this so early that it's curable.

This too shall pass and before we know it we'll be sitting poolside soaking up the Vitamin D.

In the meantime, we'll take our supplements and pray for the chemo to be as gentle as possible on her system with the exception of making her cigarettes taste so gross that she comes out of this a non-smoker.

His Passion

Four years ago this morning I kissed my father goodbye for the last time.

He had been diagnosed with bladder cancer in September and took his final breath on December 3, 2010.

The world has not been the same since.

We all know that our parents are supposed to die before us. In fact, anytime someone loses a child the saying is, "You're not supposed to bury your children." It's a natural order of things to let the parents go first.

That being said, it doesn't make the loss any easier.

Dad was one of the healthiest guys I've ever known. He quit smoking in the '70s, rarely drank to excess, ate well and was not the least bit overweight. What he did suffer from was a genetic predisposition to cancer. Men in our family all get prostate cancer. Dad did but beat it with radioactive seeding. According to the oncologist, it probably wasn't even necessary but dad said that he didn't like living each day with the knowledge that he had cancer in him.

In the end it didn't matter.

Some people just draw a short straw the day they were conceived.  You can't argue with DNA.

After his biopsy confirmed the bladder cancer in September. He was scheduled for surgery in October to have his bladder removed and was trained on how to empty the "bag" that he would be wearing for the rest of his life.

Surgery came and went...the doctor opened him and closed him back up.

In the couple of weeks from the biopsy to surgery, the cancer had grown at lightning speed, breeching the bladder walls and taking over the lower part of his abdomen. There was nothing more that could be done.

He opted for palliative radiation in hopes that it would buy him a little more time but even that wouldn't do much to extend his life or the quality of what he had left.

The family and our friends rallied. We did everything we could to make what time he had left as good as it could be. From coordinating volunteer drivers to radiation and taking dad for his last sail.

Dad, who was a Quaker, turned to his friends and our pastor for spiritual guidance. His belief in God was deep but something he didn't force on others. Over the years we'd had some great conversations about God and spirituality and prior to passing he confided in me that he was concerned about the afterlife as he, "hadn't always been nice to people."

That was the most amazing thing about him.

Even as he lay in bed slowly surrendering to the cancer, his concern was not just about himself but about anyone he might have wronged.

I told him that I highly doubted that if God was willing to forgive those who had done something as heinous as murder, that He would be more than willing to forgive a man who would have yelled at someone because his passion ran high!

Dad was a passionate guy.

If he really believed in something you'd be best to just get out of his way or better yet give him a hand because he's going to draft you to help him anyway. He was instrumental in rescuing a yacht club from near bankruptcy. By the time he stepped down as Commodore the club was in the black, had expanded to put in an in-ground pool, started a sailing school and was holding regular regattas. Mom worked at his side and the club became the family annex. If you came to visit you could pretty much count on working.

Dad's passion easily translated to enthusiasm and you couldn't help but get involved. If you didn't believe in what he was doing he'd be the first to point out that you were wrong and he was known for having a temper and voice to go with it.

One of our friends loved the fact that he could get into a very spirited debate with my dad and when it was over, belly up to the bar and have a beer together. He was not a grudge holder.

He had a great sense of humor but a horrible memory. I could tell him the same joke every year and he'd laugh as if it were the first time he'd heard it.

I loved his laugh.

While he could be a really serious guy at times, he didn't take himself seriously.

Over the years we'd teased him about looking like Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther movies and referring to him as Chuckles. One Thanksgiving his sisters teased about attempting a comb-over because he hadn't had time to get his hair cut before the holidays.

He took all of it in stride and would even laugh with us (but did get his hair cut the next day.)

I think that's the thing I miss most...his laugh.

While my boys can look at his picture and know who he is, they will never know his laugh. He would have loved to play with them and I would have loved to have heard him laugh at their antics.

There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss him and I'm not alone. His impact on those around him was astounding! Which is both a blessing and a curse.

While we were all enriched by his presence but we all suffered when he passed. Fortunately, we were left with lots of great memories and stories to share.

While he is no longer here to laugh with us, I take solace in the fact that to this day I can still hear his laughter which makes me smile and warms my heart.