I'm still here!

 Hi! You may remember me. I used to be a blogger, haha.

Sorry. Summer sends routine out the window in both good and bad ways. I'd like to think I'm getting more sleep, but I am pretty sure it's only that bedtime anad waketime have shifted further back. The city pool is open, so I've been walking the lazy river... well, duck-walking it actually, as it's less than three feet deep and I'm trying to keep my top half submerged to use the water pressure as compression to do my arm exercises. We went on vacation and are home again, so that's another cause of radio silence. And now there's Christmas in July party prep and a family get together and a summer check-in with students and we went to the drive-in movies and we've had probably a literal boatload of ice cream this summer (for sure a kayak, maybe a dinghy) and we're doing yardwork when we won't melt or sink- we've had some wild weather- and I'm going to PT twice a week and we are still painting the basement around all the other things. If summer is supposed to be a time of rest then I'm pretty sure we're doing it wrong.

But if it's time to squish in as much stuff as possible, then we are probably doing "fair to middling" as the saying goes! 

Thing Three gets his braces off this week and is working albeit grudgingly on his required driving hours. Band camp will start up soon which is one of his favorite weeks.

Thing Two is jobhunting and living off PBJ despite us having all the meats. Dunno what he'd have done as a caveman. We giggle that he is indistinguishable from our plastic skeleton friend- the one currently on the front porch in swim goggles and swim trunks- both in circumference and paleness!

Thing One is plying tourists down South with caffeine and sugar at two different jobs and seems to be doing well despite the following text exchange:

Absolutely revolting start to the morning: smooshed a cockroach on the ground behind my counter and then five minutes later it appeared dragging its half-popped not-yet-corpse body along the edge of my counter.

To be fair, that's how a lot of people feel before coffee on a Monday morning. "I'm not dead yet."

Taking a stomp to the exoskeleton and then dragging all your innards up a vertical cliff is an entirely different ballgame...

I said "feel." "Must...get...to...Monday...morning...staff...meeting...nggghhh..."

Haha

***

Have a terrific Tuesday, everybody!

Oh shoot, I'm out of practice. Thanks to everybody who checked in about my blood clot! Poor Dada earned many gold stars for giving me all 60 Lovenox injections and now I'm back on twice daily Eliquis for the next few months. I have no movement restrictions so I'm going about business as usual, fighting through PT to get back range of motion and all the things. The party line seems to be "keep doing what you're doing and we will ultrasound the area this fall."

Me, shrugging, "okieeeedokieeeee."

AND today is my very last dose of the first year of a medication I'm to take for 3 years, so I'm a third done. Woohoo! My doc is pretty sure it's the main culprit behind my hair thinning, so it's looking like baby bird hair and no eyelashes or eyebrows for two more years. Good thing I didn't open the mascara I bought a year ago when it looked like they were finally making a comeback... it'll be all ready to go for back to school 2028! 

NOW y'all go and seize your week!

Keeping things interesting

 I used to be boring. Seriously. Before cancer, pre-2018, I'd never even had a cavity or a broken bone.

Now I have a blood clot.

I guess officially it is a DVT though it is in the upper inside of my beleagured right arm, not either leg. Never even thought about getting one there. Saturday morning I awakened to a more-swollen-than-usual hand and an arm that felt like it was someone else's but had been sewn onto my body. When I bent my elbow for a few seconds and then released, the skin went from pinkish-purple (not my usual skin tone) to yellow-white before returning to the shade of rose. 

Of course it was on a Saturday. Of course I'd just seen my oncologist and my PT gal on Thursday. So here's me, playing phone tag with the oncologist on call whom I've never met. He encouraged me to go to the closest ER but that one didn't have ultrasound availablility until Monday, so we rerouted to the hospital attached to where I had chemo, got my vascular ultrasound, and within 15 minutes of being finished was formally informed of the blood clot. However, the tech had already showed me on the screen the spot that didn't squish together under compression of the doppler wand, so I was unsurprised to get the news.

I have been on 2.5 mg of Eliquis as a preventative measure since my venogram on April 20th, with the hope that this wouldn't happen. I didn't really dream that it would be an issue, but here we are.

I discontinued the Eliquis and have been upgraded, lucky me, to twice daily injections of Lovenox for a month. On Saturday, the hospital gave me a dose and a half, I think, to tide me over until my prescription was filled. However, the pharmacy was out of stock and won't have it until today, so yesterday it was back to the hospital for another dose to get me through until I can pick up the meds. Thankfully, the ER doc from further away coordinated with the closer one so I was able to get yesterday's dose without the longer drive. I love it when a plan comes together.

Poor Dada had no idea what he was getting into when he vowed, "in sickness and in health" and probably never dreamed that he would be giving me shots in my belly, the outsides of my thighs, and the back of my left arm since the right is off limits due to the lymphedema. Once again, I am more medically interesting than I want to be!

Blathering on

 Sometimes I really do forget I have a blog. Other times it's just a busy life season. Once in awhile it's both!

In the month of May, I've had about half a dozen physical therapy appointments and an OT check in on top of wrapping up the school year. Thing Three performed in both a band concert and the Memorial Day parade. I've had two follow up appointments from last year's docs, some dry needling, made a trip to my hometown for a weekend, snuggled babies at church, wrapped up one preschool class with a zoo field trip and an evening spring program, and this week is Thing Three's last week of school while I try to fit in all the online training I need to have done before the end of June. There was also a visit to a retirement home with the preK crowd in addition to my school fighting off yet another wave of germs. Yeesh. No wonder I'm tired!

Arm/shoulder-wise, things are... meh. I'm wearing my compression glove and sleeve daily, I'm doing my PT exercises more often than not, I'm still seeing more swelling than I'd like, but this may just be my new normal. I don't know how we're to know if the vein stayed open since the venogram without imaging, but none has been ordered yet and the follow up appointment isn't until the middle of next month. I'm wearing the reductor kit at night while I sleep, pumping in my cool Darth Vader vest and sleeve* daily and now have a mushroom-shaped pad? pocket? pouch? thing that I wear with the stalk end tucked inside a compression bra and the shroomy end sticking into my armpit. The thinking is that it will help bust up some scar tissue and increase range of motion by loosening all that up. Jury is still out. I've worn it to bed twice. I think I'll try alternating that with the reductor kit since when I do the kit then my hand is swollen in the morning but if I do nothing then this tightness isn't going to be helped even passively... I don't know. I now better understand being over something even while in the midst of going through something!

* Funny story- I was also issued a pair of shorts that attach to the pump because it's easier to order them and get it all at once than to add pieces later. I figured I'd never need the shorts, but whatever. Then I spent an afternoon vigorously yanking out honeysuckle bushes, including one extra hard yank which landed me on my "butt-ducks" as our kids used to say. I'd already been only a foot off the ground because I was using my legs in a squat instead of my back, but I still sat there laughing at myself for a minute. The next day, my butt-ducks and rear thighs were so tight and whiny that I thought, "hey! I can use the shorts!" So for two days that's what I did and, boy, if you've never had your butt-ducks rhythmically squeezed and released, it's really something. I don't know what, but it's something! I can just hear my Grammy and Gramps laughing at me!

I have little news to report on progress made in the basement since the death of the sump pump. We are looking at tile flooring because we know it's only a matter of time before the new sump pump also croaks and we have zero desire to rip out carpet and padding yet again. For the tile we have a first and second choice, we think. We have not taken measurements yet. We also have paint swatches since we were never wild about the color down there in the first place and it's been... well... this fall will be our 12th year here, I think, so we figured we might as well paint before we do the floor.

None of that was on the Bingo card for 2026. In fact, I have paint swatches taped up in the foyer because that's the room I'd painted most recently and it has held up the least well. When I showed Dada my colors, he sniggered and said it was exactly what was already on the walls and that at least I was consistent. I'd be offended except for the fact that he's right; they are almost identical. *sigh*

Thing Two made it home safely from his welding training this semester and has become a bump on a chair at the tall table. His basement bunker is out of the picture, so even though he's still not getting fresh air or sunshine, he's at least visible. Until he turns sideways, anyway, and then he disappears. He's so skinny! Miracles happen every day, and the proof is that my 20 year old Honda, Pepe the Pilot, survived the entire excursion of getting him to and from class daily through winter in Cleveland, involving both extremely rutted back roads and freeways of crazy drivers. Thank you for all the diligent prayers- they worked!

Thing One is working two jobs and having the typical summertime computer issues of something deciding to quit working and never mind that it has 8 years of art on it. Pshaw. Why should it boot up and do its job? This is in addition to whatever maintenance issues the jobs themselves run into. I believe the quote I heard was, "why is it whenever something happens we always have to tear out a wall??" Apparently when someone puts a coffee pot under a leak and then never checks it again... well, let's just say that we have all been introduced to our friend Gravity and that it doesn't bode well. Otherwise, having fun with the housemates and living the dream.

And we still have Boooooosley, who turned 9 on Cinco de Mayo, is no smarter than when we brought him home at 4 months old, and will probably live forever. Loudly. Ridiculous.

I hope all of you experience a GENTLE transition from spring to summer- goodness knows we all have whiplash here from Ohio being wishy-washy at best about what season it thinks it is- and that the end of the school year brings a routine in which you can breathe, and I don't just mean allergy relief. Take good care of you and revive your spirits. 

What I'm up to, and what's next

 If I tell you this, you have to trust that I'm not crowing about it or trying to make anybody look bad, and you must understand I'm not putting myself above others who choose not to do this:

I am scrubbing the outsides of my kitchen cabinets today.

In my defense:

1.) It's my spring break. My Mommeeee is visiting and since she gets wiped out from travel, it's a good day to stay home and chat with her.

2.) I wasn't here last spring to do it as I was in the big city being radiated and didn't want to use my already-short weekends at home to do them then. Then time for fall cleaning rolled around but I started working at school  instead. Yes, it is an "or" situation, not an "and", hahaha. Anybody who has ever been to my house is now nodding in understanding.

3.) It is a really good set of stretches for this afflicted right arm and side. More on that later.*

I may never, ever get to my baseboards (looking at you, my bestie) but I can do these kitchen cabinets. I'm about halfway done. I'll be the only one who even notices that they've been cleaned, but I can tell you that I burned 100 calories in under half an hour, so if you're sick of the treadmill because it is STILL too cold out, well, grab your bucket and a rag, turn up some music, and off you go!

*************

Whoops. That key really stuck. Oh well. 

The scoop on my arm and all that jazz is this: in two weeks I'll have a procedure called a venogram in which contrast will be run through an IV and then watched with an ultrasound to see how compressed my vein is in that right upper arm/ shoulder/ armpit/ axilla quadrant. If it is open at all, the surgeon intends to inflate a balloon in there to "snowplow" it open the rest of the way and then will withdraw the balloon, similar to some heart procedures. I will be awake but under some sedation as they may want me to move that arm in various positions so they can see where bloodflow is being compressed, etc. I will be on blood thinners for 3 months following all that, which I confess to being less than thrilled about, but I understand that is to give the vein practice with easier bloodflow as it recovers. (My main concern is that one of my meds dries out my eyes and nose already and I don't want constant nosebleeds.)

If the vein is completely closed, then the surgeon will have a discussion with my plastics guy to develop a plan to take more drastic measures. Even if the procedure works this time, there's no guarantee the vein will stay open because it's been radiated twice, so we may end up with the second plan anyway. We only got the bare bones of that plan floated, but phrases like, "yes, something from a cadaver could work", "I'm thinking your veins in your legs would be too small", and "we sometimes use the jugular vein but that would be from your left side" were bandied about. 

In the meantime, I'll be starting PT for my shoulder range of motion and having more dry needling done, which I've done twice now and am amazed that it works. I am flummoxed that someone can stick half a dozen needles into me no problem and I feel better but every opportunity for a blood draw is fraught with stress. So weird. 😁

Anyhoo, back to the second half of my cabinets!

Happy birthday, Gramps!

 I dunno how old my Dad’s dad would be today, but I always find it funny that his birthday is the same as the amazing Dr. Seuss! Today our preK crowd will be wearing pajamas and we will be reading one of my all-time favorites, the Sleep Book. It’s Seuss week, so there are lots of Shenanigans planned and I’m sure there will be plenty of spontaneous, kid-originated Shenanigans as well!

I will be wearing my minion pajamas bottoms- yes, the ones from Despicable Me- and I will most likely still be wearing them to my PT appointment right after school. Last week we had a silly sock day so I got to wear my Wonder Woman socks- which have capes on them, by the way- to PT and the woman who works on me approved highly. I’m just here for comic relief.

Since it’s March and we will have St. Patty’s Day to celebrate soon, I bought our yearly Lucky Charms so there’s a happy teenage boy munching away this morning. Congrats, everyone, for making it through February!

Have a great day!

A venting/processing post- *reader beware*

Here we are, into our 27th year of marriage, and life just keeps getting nuttier. 

I know it's been awhile since I've blogged. Sorry about that. 

I'm a little all over the place. 

And I haven't had lunch yet and it's almost 2:30.

Mentally, I feel like I have most of my marbles, thanks to my Lisa, who gave me a jar of them, haha! Now if my ducks would keep to their row and quit meandering about...

Emotionally, it was a hard week. I didn't sleep great for whatever reason, and one of the companies which supplies the meds I'll be on for years was being.... difficult?

I feel like here is where I relay the story about when my younger brother went off to summer camp. Bart Simpson had kind of wowed us all with popularizing, "that sucks, man!" We weren't supposed to say it when we were home. But my brother's counselor announced, "we will not be saying that... we will instead say, "that is less than desirable" when we want to say, "that sucks."

I can't tell you how often I've said "this is less than desirable" this week, along with tears of rage and frustration, and "why can't things and people just DO THEIR JOBS?!"

Physically, oh boy. Do you really want to know?

In November, I noticed my right arm was feeling tighter than it had been. I had a PT appointment in which they took measurements, but they usually take three and could only take two that day because one of their measuring machines was down. Apparently everyone's were, as they'd just been updated and then all decided they weren't working. Nothing like that ever happens to any devices anywhere, right? Ha.

I'd been operating for a few months, I think, on the "wear your compression sleeve for heavy household chores and exercise." And I did. But now I felt like I was needing to wear it daily. For those of you who don't know what that feeling is, the best I can describe it is that it feels as though I'm leaning my elbow into the padding of a communion rail or confession/kneeler pad that some churches flip down from the pew ahead of yours. There's fluid buildup so my arm feels squishy yet tight to the touch at the same time. It's weird. One of the lymphedema signs I was to watch out for was indents that didn't disappear quickly. 

So my measurement numbers were a LITTLE up that day in November, I've stretched out my second compression sleeve because I faithfully wore my first one all summer as required (with much grumbling, you can believe; my tanlines were "less than desirable!")

I start local PT next week and see the big city PT crew again in two weeks. But I'm getting ahead of the story.

Yesterday, I drove to the big city for a meeting with the plastic surgeon who was part of my team who did the pLVB procedure which is a bypass where they route the severed lymph vessels straight into veins to help with drainage. The hope was that the procedure would prevent what we are seeing now. 

So, when your plastics doc looks at your body with a grimace and sighs, "oh God, that's horrible," then a lot of things go through my mind.

In no particular order:

YAY! It's not my imagination!

Good, that's a real reaction and now we can talk about it.

Hmm, it must be worse than I thought. 

Maybe he can help with my neck, too. 

There were other things, but what's rattling around my head in that moment is less important than what started being discussed.

I'd seen my oncologist the previous day and she had only good things to say. Numbers were excellent. I'm cancer-free. These appointments for everything will start to dwindle down as I start living my life as someone who is cancer-free! Yippie!

So the plastics doc and his PA start brainstorming right away. She's typing madly, coordinating teams to figure out what tests need done, starting with a CT scan, to see where things are breaking down. Their immediate feeling is that there's so much damaged tissue near my armpit between being radiated twice and scar tissue/cording that there's the possibility of a vascular issue in that area. Maybe the lymph vessels are backed up because a vein can't drain. They want to start testing to see what's what.

The PA mentioned injecting dye into my hand to then see how it is pulled back up by the veins so that they could find where the dam is broken, so to speak. I think that's a neat idea! They started tossing out procedure ideas including taking healthy, unradiated tissue from my back and transplanting it near my armpit because they will need healthy tissue to work with. There will also be wraps, pumps, other compression garments, etc, to trial to see what will fit my life. 

They're going to discuss me at their next panel which they hold once a month, like the tumor board where THEY used to talk about me, and we've already arranged the CT scan for the day before the panel so they'll have all the recent numbers for their meeting. Another PT appointment will also be that day, so they can't get any fresher measurements than that!

I told that sweet man of mine that I refuse to get fussed about all this before their hold their meeting. Someone on that panel might interject with a "hey! I just saw a study on ______ and what if we tried _____!?" The PA said she has an idea involving several steps that normally don't go together so she was processing how to enter them into the system to get the teams to work together when there isn't a set protocol yet, so to speak.

Was any of that the news I wanted? No. Is it less than desirable? Yes. Is it my life now? Yes. It'll be a chronic thing to be managed from here on out. 

Am I furious that yet again a summer will go by where I'll most likely be told to stay out of water while I heal and protect myself from the sun? You bet! However, I have a goal to be healthy for Christmas in July and my 50.5 party so already I'm looking forward to fun things and recovery milestones. 

Yes, there was some piratey talk, and there will most likely be more. But even in this, I can see His faithfulness to me. It was the first time I've driven myself to and from the big city, and I made it both ways safely. In February. 

The kids at home had dentist appointments right after school and then Thing Three had pep band to get to straight from there. They made all their destinations on time and safely and eventually all of us were home again. Even my sweet hubby made it from out of town, parked RIGHT beside me for my appointment, and caravanned home.

I sleep in a bed off the ground without mosquito nets in a room designated for sleeping without our children and with zero livestock accompanying us. How many blessings is that right there? I flip a switch and a light shines. I open a cold box and there's food inside. Miracles abound. Every single day. 

Sometimes your meds even show up when you need them. That's a post for another day.

Will this be hard and frustrating? Yeah, probably. Will I cry some more and have hard days? Most definitely. Is this how I pictured my body looking for the rest of my life? Not even close. 

But I do still have two arms that work for hugs. 

I'm cancer free. 

I'm better than a survivor.

I'm a victor.

 

That's not a heartstring. That's an imposter!

                                                 

Boy, have I got a humdinger of a story for all y'all. It's long, though, so grab some snacks and settle in. 

Once upon a time (actually, twice, but who's counting?), a gal had a medical port inserted to save the veins in her arms from being jabbed during the upcoming months of chemo. A port is a medical device with a catheter leading into a large vein right above your heart. It sits just under your skin and sticks up like a raised bubble about the size of a nickel. That way the docs and poke one spot to draw blood AND to insert IV dripping meds. It's especially helpful as nothing is supposed to happen to my right arm, meaning no blood pressure cuffs or blood draws or anything because of the threat of lymphedema (fluid retention). It does both jobs, in and out. However, my port decided this:

It broke away from the main section and lodged in the center of my chest. When, we don't know for sure. It worked fine in August and did not work in October. I had most of it removed last Monday, but this piece stayed behind:

Thing Two observed, "you have a straw in your sternum. Last time I checked, you are not a Capri Sun."

                            Yes. Well.

It so happened that I had follow up appointments scheduled in the big city later in the week. We told Dr. A, the surgeon who did my lymph node removal surgery last fall, about the stinkin' port escape and she ordered another chest Xray (above) and then informed us that she STRONGLY urged us to not go back home, but to be admitted for a procedure to get the escapee out. 

So we stayed in the hospital overnight after the follow up appointments, one of which was physical therapy involving dry needling. Now, one would think with my history of needles that even the phrase "dry needling" would send me for the hills. However, it was amazing. She must have stuck 6-8 in me, I lost track, and it's not all at once, but one at a time into the most tender and tight spots on my shoulder, chest, pec, armpit area. The needle causes micro tears which the body then fixes with fresh, new, loose tissue instead of the stuck together scar tissue that's causing the tightness. It's amazing! You can feel the release as the knots kind of dissolve. The timing was perfect too, because she released a ton of the tension in the right side of my neck. (That will be important later.)

So here's me in my fashionable gown with my heart monitor on and my ... whatever the thing on my finger even did... but I was saying, "ouuuuuuuch" like ET in the movie, hehe!

To review, one of the port's two jobs is to draw blood. Here's me, needing an IV to draw blood because the stupid port is busted and needs rescued! Gah! However, thank you, Bradley, the expert needle inserter who got it on the first try. Bless you!

So we meet with the surgeon and some of his team who will be doing the procedure. He tells us that it entails inserting a catheter into either my groin or my neck, hopefully my groin as it is a straighter shot, and then snaking that catheter up through my blood vessels, in through my heart, and into my pulmonary artery heading into my lungs where this stray piece is lodged.

Sorry, come again? This is the first time anybody confirmed that it's actually in my lungs. What?! It's through part of my heart? Oh my stars.

*Raising hand, essentially* What happens if this doesn't work and you can't lasso it?

"Well, then you'll need surgery."

Yeah, like, what kind? To what extent?

"We'd need to crack your chest."

YOU GUYS. THIS WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD FOR 2025!

So we prep ourselves for a potentially multiple hour surgery and off I go. I'd had nothing by mouth for over 15 hours and felt like my brain was a raisin. I begged every nurse I saw for fluids all day. Mercifully, they gave me two bags with the gentle anesthesia in my IV, but I remained awake and aware in there, which is also kind of wild when you think about it. 

They swabbed both my neck and my groin with- I'm pretty sure it was Bactricide, which make me laugh because that's what we cleaned bathrooms with at camp- because I'm allergic to some of those pre-surgical cleansers and break out in hives. They got me all draped in the snazzy blue paper tenting for their sterile field and told me to turn my head to the left. My thought was, "ohhhhh dear. This could be terrible." My stress has always gone into a knot on my right shoulder near my neck, so that's tight even when life is good. By turning my neck to the left, that is going to compress the muscles on that left side, stretch the ones on the right, and if they have to insert another catheter in the right side of my neck where they're prepping, BOTH sides of my neck are going to be killing me. GOOD THING I'D HAD PT AND THE DRY NEEDLING! So I turned my head to the left like I was told and hoped for the best. Remember, we'd been told it could potentially take hours. 

The worst part was actually the stabs of the anesthesia (Lidocaine) going into my groin. Three times. For the love of everything that is holy, WHY do people using that stuff not rub some kind of numbing agent on first and THEN stab you? Holy moly. I mean life goes on, but still! Have mercy. 

The team is all in those huge aprons to prevent them from absorbing radiation with their paper gowns over them because they'd be using live xray to track down that piece so they'd know exactly where and when to snag it. Apparently it's called, "flouroscopy"- you can Google that. So that big boxy machine was right over my chest, with my head still turned to the left, with most everyone on my right side. Not gonna lie, there were few moments when I felt a big claustrophobic, but I could still see some other folks moving around and I could hear them and they WOULD talk to me when I asked something, so I hung in there. 

I had two distinct thoughts about the whole thing: 

One, is God greater than the focus of my fears? That was a question from a sermon several months ago that has really resonated with me. It's a resounding yes for me. I don't know why, but I'm often surprised to discover that it's true. Again and again, He is faithful.

Two, well, if He calls me home right now, at least everybody knows I love them! 

This surgeon, Dr M, likes wordless music while he's working, so there's me and the crew, chatting about John Williams and "is this from Star Wars?" I heard some from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, more Star Wars, and so on. It was delightful!

At one point, I asked, "should I be feeling pressure in my throat?" I was assured that yes, that was fine, because he was snaking his tube around and that is exactly where I would be feeling something. Whew.

Then suddenly, everyone is excited and I hear, "twenty-one minutes!" You guys, this team got that sucker out in 21 minutes after prepping for it to take hours!

My sweet husband said when he got the call, he had time to think, "either this is really good news, or really bad news!"

The next two videos are for folks who enjoy doctor shows. You know who you are. Where are my House, M*A*S*H, ER, the Resident, Grey's Anatomy fans? This is the action part. The surgeon, Dr. M, had to time everything just right to lasso the moving part and drag it out of me!

This is the incision from my port removal last Monday. You can tell it's bruising up nicely, heh.

That tiny hole below is where they entered my groin to fetch that missing piece. Isn't that so crazy? It's itty bitty!

And THAT is the wayfaring troublemaker that caused this whole mess. You'll notice it is substantially larger than the 1.5 inches that we were originally told last week. 

Tremendous thanks to Latifah, Aubrey, Kendra, Amber, Bradley, Dr. A, Dr. M, Amy, Krupen, Annie, Aaron, and the rest of the team whose names I either didn't know or forgot.

Thank you to my incredible tribe scattered everywhere from folks in the city who offered guest rooms to my poor, stressed out husband to the folks at home who were praying, not even knowing the extent or the seriousness of the whole situation. I have THE BEST tribe anywhere and you all bless us so much. Thanks for once again having our backs. We are putting in requests for no more medical adventures until I'm a little old lady!

And thanks to God, because who knows how long I'd been walking around with madmade materials in the middle of my heart yet He kept me fine and dandy. They say to worry about microplastics, but nobody warns you about the macroplastics that clearly are out to get you!

Two of everything, including skin pictures (viewer discretion advised even though things look amazing)

Two weeks post-hysterectomy, here's how things look. Still chigger bites hanging in there, figures, but my glue-covered incisions are healing well. I saw my doc for the first follow up appointment and she said everything looked great and to keep doing what I've been doing, with one exception:

 I overdid it a little bit last Saturday with walking 3 miles on the treadmill and then twisting side to side to crack my back. Then I had some spotting, which is always alarming, at least to me. So I quit it and haven't done it again and things have been fine. Just keepin' it real, or honest, or something.

She showed me the photos of my lady parts that she took during surgery and can I just say that I think it's so cool to be able to see one's own insides? So neat!

Also getting plenty of wear out of the abdominal wrap they gave me. Definitely nice to have the support when I'm walking. And wonderful to take it off. My doc and I mused about how that's like a bra, but those ALWAYS feel good to take off, haha!

And it's been two months since my last radiation session. My skin looks fantastic and it only a bit more than than the rest of me. It looks much less burned and the lotion is still going on once a day for the most part. I've forgotten sometimes and other days I've slathered it on twice, so it all evens out. 

I'm staying out of the sun and still wearing my sleeve on my right arm. I have another PT check in two weeks. Here's hoping I'll be done with the sleeve for real unless I'm doing heavy household chores or gardening, and I need to remember to ask if they recommend using it for any flights in case I get inspired to go anywhere. 

Thanks again for all the prayers! The healing is going really well on all fronts. 

Enjoy the cooler weather this weekend!

 

A victory and a plan

*Viewer discretion advised- not all photos may be appropriate for all viewers*

Sorry to those of you who've been so patiently waiting for proof that I'm still alive and that chemo is done. YES! 

It is finished. 

I rang the bell. 

I hugged the nurses. 

I don't have to go back until June.

No more of pretending to be a rooster when I'm there with Thing One:

No more sucking down ice chips and holding bags or gloves of ice for an hour whilst wearing my compression socks:

No more hard drugs straight into my bloodstream, haha. I've been sent along the treatment road to the next thing, which will be proton radiation starting in a few weeks, every day during business weeks for the new, temporary normal of 28 days unless the machine decides to take a break, need maintenance or otherwise be uncooperative. I've already had my CT scan appointment for rads treatment planning purposes and the team stickered me up accordingly because I'll be matched to precise specs for the machine I'll be on each time. Somehow the stickers are supposed to stay on for weeks and I'm not to scrub them off. Every tiny itch I have makes me stop and think, "is that a sticker I'm scratching?" Doubly entertaining as I have an adhesive allergy but so far *knocks wood* so good, doing okay.

                                                  

It was the highlight of my appointment yesterday (my surgical follow up from September) when she asked how I was doing and I got to flash her from the nicest hospital gown I've ever worn while telling her: 

                    "I got all fancy for you!" 

She felt me up (that's part of her job) and declared me to be doing very well and that she wanted to see me again in 6 months after everything is done. I think the visit lasted 7 minutes total, but to be fair, I'd scheduled it thinking I'd already be there for radiation because I'd mistakenly assumed I'd have started already. Kind of on me- I got incorrect intel. What can you do? 

Next up will be a check in with PT to make sure I'm not developing lymphedema, which will also be a potential side effect from radiation- all kinds of good times around here- and a check in with my plastic surgeon for my 6 month follow up. In my case it's been 7 but again that's on me for scheduling the best I could with the info I had at the time. Then I have the "dry run" rads appt and it's off to the races.

Some things to pray about if you'd like: 

* that I don't develop lymphedema in my right arm or my chest

* that my brachial nerve isn't damaged by the radiation as that could lead to weakness in my right (dominant) side

* that I don't end up with any rib fractures as again everything gets exposed to the radiation and the risk for that increases. This will be my second kind of radiation and  another month of doses so my risk will be higher than other patients'.

* that the skin burns won't be too bad. Last time it didn't get bad until very close to the end, but again, I'm already compromised on that side from the previous rounds so my skin most likely will break down faster this time. I'm stocking up on the good lotion already and have been told to up my protein going in so I have plenty of stores to heal from. Why do I never get to store up on carbs? *sigh* 

I'll try to do better about keeping you posted, and I intend to blog more tomorrow, especially the storm damage photos. No worries, our home is fine, safe, snug, but we lost some trees so I have photos to share. All is well!

Annnnd the news we've all been waiting for...

 ...no, I'm not pregnant. Ha! Oh, not that news. Right.

I'll get my port in next week! Once again I get to scrub a dub dub with the sudsy pre-surgical soap, go under anesthesia, wake up for a chest Xray and be sent on my way as a bionic person. I wonder what the ratio of people going into the hospital to get rid of things versus have things added or replaced turns out to be. Hmmm. A port has to be one of the best inventions ever. My left arm is going to be SO relieved to not have to offer up veins for months on end. 

The next day I have a follow up with the plastics doc to see how my incision is healing, as well as a PT appointment for measurements to make sure there's no lymphedema sneaking up on me and perhaps they'll give me exercises to continue building back my arm muscles. Apparently October is another of my go-visit-doctors months! Because THEN...

Chemo starts the last week of this month! Woohoo! 

Now you all think I'm nuts. Who woohoos over chemo starting? Once it's started, it's closer to being finished. I'd rather get as much done while the weather is cooperative. Last time I did it in the summer and while I'm still a bit salty about "losing" a summer, at least I didn't have to worry about icy driving. Oh well. It is what it is. I'm very much hoping to be done with the Adriamycin/Cyclophosphamide cycle before Christmas. So I guess now the prayer becomes that it please not kick my butt and that I stay healthy during the roughest months of the year to stay healthy, haha! I'll just take a page from Harry Potter and sadly resign myself to repeating, "I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I don't exist."

Maybe then I'll catch up on my Inktober doodles!