Waxing philosophically about pathology results and impending nuttiness

 Eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs. 

Just kidding. I know what I need to blog about. I just dontwanna. 

Short version, think "The Princess Bride" where Prince Humperdinck tells the priest, "SKIP to the END," I need chemo. Again.

Longer version: my surgeon, Dr A, removed 16 lymph nodes during her two parts of my surgery. The first 4 were not true sentinels, as those had been taken out during my mastectomy surgery. The other 12 from the second part of her surgery were all clear, so hooray for that! Yay!

Of those 4 closest to the tumor, 2 of those wiseguys had picked up some cancer in their cleanup duties. Guess I should have had it marked "NO TOUCHIE" a little better, but they handled it regardless and got contaminated. 

Once the pathology came back, Dr A took the results to the tumor board that meets Thursday evenings. I had prayed that there would be a clear consensus of YES, chemo is needed or NO, chemo is not needed. I did not want the board to be split down the middle and then be asked, "what do YOU think?" I hate making medical decisions. I don't have a degree in any of that stuff! Just tell me what to do!

Fortunately, they agreed that chemo would be the way to go. Now I'm waiting for the Powers That Be to schedule my port surgery, this time on my left side, and then I can begin chemo the next day. I suppose there will be pre-op bloodwork before that, so here is the sarcastic yaaaaaaaaaay. 

Because I am no longer Triple Positive (I am estrogen positive, progesterone positive, and Her2neu negative for those new to the blog or who have lost track, and who could blame you?) I will need a different chemo cocktail than the first time around. That time I had Carboplatin and Taxotere as my chemo drugs and Herceptin and Perjeta as my hormone therapy drugs. This time it'll be Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide (which I will never be able to spell without looking it up) every two weeks until I've done it four cycles. Then there's probably a break in there of about two weeks before I start Taxol weekly for 12 weeks. Then it'll be on to the hormone therapy, however that looks, but I seem to remember it'll be in pill form.

I shall be bald by Thanksgiving and hopefully done with the AC combo by Christmas providing I tolerate it well and don't get sick and wreck the schedule. I'm going in confident because it'll be the same team who did my chemo the first time and they are excellent at setting patients up for success in anticipating which side effects hit when. For instance, they know "these three days you will have the worst nausea so take these drugs these days, then this day the bone pain will set in so take this one," and so on. They equip you with a great bag of tricks. Plus, I know to drink TONS, rest when I can, stay positive, and all that. 

AND AVOID ATOMIC FIREBALLS. NO TOUCHIE.

My goodness, I don't want to relearn that lesson. No breathing fire, thanks. Mouth sores are a possibility so it'll be time to restart the baking soda rinses and all that jazz as well. I have wonderful lotions to help my skin stay hydrated, plenty of lip balm... and I'll need a box for all my hair products, haha. Oh well. Hair In His Face is welcome to them, though he is such a minimalist he'll never touch them. 

More than anything, right this second, what I want is for the doctor's office to call so I can schedule what needs scheduled so we can plan around it all. I have Stuff To Do! So. Much. Waiting. I'm still no good at it.

Guess I'll have time to catch up on my reading list. I am only 13 books behind my goal for the year. *sigh*

A friend asked how my heart was. Heart is fine because I know this will all be okay. I'm stronger going into this than I was the first time around and that all went fine. I know whose I am, who's got my back, who is cheering me on from afar, and so on. Heart is pretty peaceful, actually. 

It's brain that would like to schedule a freak out session, preferably in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping: 

What if I don't tolerate these meds? What if I'm vomiting or pooping ALL THE TIME? (Then the docs will adjust doses and/or meds and it'll get fixed and be fine.)

What if they affect my heart? I've already had a year of Herceptin and that had potential for heart damage. Yes, I KNOW the last echo test was fine. That was then. (They'll be keeping track of heart stuff, as well, scheduling more echos to keep an eye on things. It'll be fine.)

What if my hair never grows back? It didn't come back the same this time, and eyebrows and eyelashes hardly came back at all. (Meh. Then you have a super easy beauty regimen for the rest of forever. Don't sweat it. There are wigs. There are falsies. There are eyebrow pencils. Do you REALLY care? No. It'll be fine.)

What if I miss an entire year of subbing? (Ugh, okay, I'm with you on this one. I miss my small friends and my peer friends, a lot. I also don't want their germs, which are legion. Then you miss a year, I guess, but they haven't forgotten you as evidenced by your text streams and visits and care packages. They know you love them, too. And you might be back to yourself by springtime! It will be okay.)

I can't believe I'm putting my family through this again. (They are also in good hands with a good tribe at their back. Again, your team knows what they're doing. It will all be okay. Not great sometimes, but okay. You can keep talking about it to make sure THEY are okay, too.)

What if it spreads elsewhere? (Good grief, brain, shut it! *sigh* Okay, if it spreads elsewhere then your team will deal with that as well! Go to sleep!)

And a radiation consult? Potentially proton therapy? What is up with that?! (That is another post altogether when we have some facts.)

But what if...?

And so it goes. 

But that's life, right? There's no stopping the world to get off for a minute to reorient yourself. Y'just gotta take another breath. Take another step. Write another thank you note. Pray for someone else. Text another friend. Have another cup of coffee Go drink some more water. Eat some ice cream. Go for a walk. Make a grocery list cuz God knows nobody else around here adds anything to it. Read a book. Take another breath. Drink some more water. Give yourself permission to take a nap. Phone a friend and ruin their day because SOMEONE CALLED THEM, haha. Tell people you love them. And breathe again.

Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Enjoy the bubbles.

Well, I'll be!

 

I'm not sure how the challenges work via an Apple Watch. Is it individual and random? Is it individual and based on previous totals? Is it the same for everyone who wears one? I haven't asked another real person, so your guess is as good as mine. Here was my December challenge (I know it's tiny, click on it so you can see it larger)- you can see I'm not quite there but I'm so very close. 

I know 2020 brought a lot of ridiculousness with it and I understand that that's putting it nicely for some of you who have suffered very real losses. I don't mean to downplay any of that. There were also opportunities, such as being home with our kiddos for pretty much nine months straight... 

Well, okay, that clearly falls under more than one category and it's not always "opportunity" and I feel perfectly justified in acknowledging that. I'm fairly sure anyone with children would admit that there are times when you absolutely need to get away from them and that does not indicate that you're a bad parent or that they're bad kids. It proves you have a healthy mental outlook, I think! Save our Sanity!

2020 provided me with the previously unthinkable: 

I became a runner. 

That is, in the sense that a runner = one who runs. 

I'm still staggered that I'm talking about me, the one who absolutely loves the 0.0 bumper stickers that proudly claim, "I don't run" in the face of all the just-as-proud 13.1 and 26.2 stickers. I'd wanted one of those stickers for Pepe but never got around to it and now I can't because this fall I started running.

Some of you who've known me forever are probably like, "shut the front door! What!? Since when? What changed!?"

I was thinking about that today on my walk in the 30 degree weather and I decided it was a combination of things.

One, the aforementioned many months in the house with These People that I Live With. It is nice to have an outlet that they're not terribly interested in.

Two, I figured since it's more of a "when I get covid" instead of an "if I get covid", I might as well have my lungs in the best possible shape going into it. I know exercise does good things in that department, and I really do feel like now my lungs are as strong as they were when Dada and I were training for the Bike to the Bay in 2017, pre-cancer. That's exciting and gratifying.

Three, I've always loved going for walks yet I haven't been a fan of running since I was a kid. I felt having to do laps in gym class and forced track and field days took the fun out of running for pleasure like on-the-spot races with friends. 

But I always liked the idea of being a runner. Except that meant I'd have to run. Ugh.

Four, I ran across an editorial about someone who'd declared she would never be a runner. Then she stopped to think about that and decided that she was limiting herself, boxing herself into a "never." The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why I (or anyone) would do that. It was kind of the kick in the pants I needed.

 I decided to try it. I thought I'd probably fall down dead in a ditch (there are LOTS of ditches in our neck of Ohio. TONS.) after just a little while. Sometimes Dada graciously went with me and sometimes I went alone. I bought new shoes. Now I had to do it, right? Spent the money, now just go do it. 

So I did. Sometimes it gets easier, though I haven't experienced that "runner's high" yet- pretty sure that's a myth or else I'm not running long enough. Sometimes it feels like someone is winding the sidewalk ever longer and that I will never, ever make it to that stop sign, but I can make it to that driveway or maybe even that fire hydrant or, now that it's Christmas, that blow up Buddy the Elf. Sometimes I can do a whole strip and sometimes I plan to die quietly on the golf cart trail so someone will find my body sooner rather than later. 

I've discovered that my legs seem to understand what's going on and for the most part they are very cooperative. They could keep on doing their thing without much input from me.

Which is great because sometimes the aforementioned lungs are like, "what the (insert pirate-y language here) does she think she is doing? This again? Oh for the love." 

You wouldn't think breathing would be the hard part. Sometimes I just feel like there's not enough air, which is ridiculous as I'm outside and you can't get any more air than that. Apparently there are things to learn about breathing, who knew? I'm eternally grateful that God created us with lungs which would breathe on their own when we forget to. Thank goodness. I'm still figuring out the whole breathe-in-for-this-count-hold-breathe-out-for-that-count thing. It'll take awhile. I now know why runners rarely look like they're having fun. They're busy trying to breathe, to not die, to remember where the mean dogs are, to watch for the slippery parts of sidewalks, to figure out where to cross the street. Clear your head, my foot! Again, good thing legs know what to do because if I had to tell them on top of everything else that poor Brain is attempting, we'd be stopped. 

I've only done a dozen runs in 2020. And see, that right there is what I'm up against- myself. Why did I write "only" when I should be proud that I've done a dozen of something I'd sworn I'd never do? Sometimes it's really hard to get out of your own head. Days when I can't run the same segment I'd done in a previous run are very irritating; "why is this so hard!? I did it last time!" My mom has called me the least competitive person she knows, and that's probably true when it comes to myself vs others. All my competition comes to a head with myself, just like all my self esteem issues stem from "will I measure up" and "will I be good enough" vs "do I look okay?" It's why breast cancer treatment wasn't as hard in a lot of ways as writing a book or painting would be. Hair comes and goes; I'm okay with or without. Same with boobs. I didn't mind mine until they started being sneaky, and I'm fine without them. Plus, there are two distinct benefits of running with a flat chest: no bounce and no under-boob sweat! 

I've discovered I'm also a fair-weather runner, which should surprise exactly none of you, and if it's below 50 degrees then a run ain't happenin' because I'll possibly be wearing leggings under my pants as it is. So I go for walks. I've figured out a relatively safe, slightly over two mile loop and now a three mile one as well. And yes, we have parks with trails, but I think I'll stick to sidewalks and streets first before I go crazy with the tree roots, walnuts, and wet leaves underfoot. 

All that to say this: try something new in 2021. I don't know that the weather will cooperate at all for me to run again until maybe March. Maybe. But I can walk. I was thinking today about how my Grammy loved tramping through the woods and fields, and here I am, rambling about, trying to get my miles in. I'm sure when warmer weather rolls around that I'll find many things I'd rather be doing than exercising (reading, for one), but maybe my watch or one of my apps will have a challenge that sounds doable that I won't hate doing. 

And who knows? Maybe I will learn to love it.

So tell me: what have you put off trying because 2020 has been a dumpster fire? What's holding you back? What are you waiting for? If you need permission, here's mine: 

Go try it. You're allowed to hate it. You're allowed to quit. But if you give it a shot, you might surprise yourself and everyone around you. And we all want someone to cheer on these days. So go for it! And tell me about it so I can check on you. 

Happy New Year!  

Still grounded

 Tomorrow morning (at the buttcrack of dawn, might I add) is my MRI. For those of you scratching your heads, my bad. "Let me sum up," as Inigo Montoya says. I need to back up a bit.

*beep beep beep beep*

Last Monday I had the EEG and was to have the neurology appointment directly afterwards. However, the neurologist had a family emergency so my appointment got punted to Tuesday afternoon.

After he listened to my story of why I was there, as if he didn't already know, he told me that the EEG looked normal. Yay! I have a brain! Shush, Hinrew. Then he said something a little discomfiting; "however, small things can hide in an EEG so I want you to have an MRI. If things look fine from there, I'll check on you in four months. My gut feeling is that we do not need to put you on anti seizure medicine as that would be life long and has serious side effects."

Um, yikes?

My husband, the engineer, growled afterwards, "if the MRI is the definitive test, why did they order an EEG instead of an MRI?" Good question. Nurse Lisa told me over the phone, and I could hear the groan and the roll of her eyes as she explained, that insurance companies most likely won't cover an MRI unless an EEG is done first, even though it's dumb because if they just did the MRI they'd have the results they were looking for instead of now paying for two tests. Which is pretty much what my mother had texted me as well.

So, tomorrow morning I am signed up for an MRI with and without contrast. I know I've had one of these before, but it's kind of a blur. The tech asked over the phone if I was claustrophobic so I'm going with they're sticking me in some kind of tube. Good news is I'm allowed to eat and drink normally beforehand, no fasting, yay. Undecided news is the "with contrast" part... I can't remember if I only have to drink that or if that's through an IV or both. Less yay. Not gonna get fussed about it, though. Not worth it.

I also will need to ask if the results get read by the neurologist and if his office will let me know what it said or if I need to call them, or what. I was told not to drive until the results of the EEG were in, and I was a good girl and didn't, though I've discovered as a 44-year-old woman what it feels like to be grounded. Not a fan! Very inconvenient, even during a pandemic when events and activity levels are much decreased. Grr. Then he ordered the MRI and said to not drive for another week, maybe two to three weeks, something about six months at which point my non existent eyebrows shot right off of my head. I hope he was kidding, cuz man, that ain't happening. I am going with a week as that's what he said first. So there. 

Tuesday I also saw my oncologist who went over all my numbers and pronounced everything perfect. So good, in fact, that she doesn't need to see me for six months, so I won't have to head down there at all this winter, wahoo! She also felt I was good to drive and that the troublesome fainting episode was simply a reaction to the blood draw.  She went so far as to make a note in my chart that I will be reclining for future blood draws. Nurse Lisa approves, as per her "for the love of all that is holy... would you please make sure they lay you down for blood draws!!!" Favorite doctor ever. Teehee.

So as you roll over and hit the alarm for the day or as you roll over and go back to sleep tomorrow around 6:45, send a prayer or a good thought that the MRI finds nothing more than a small sign etched onto my brain reading, "STOP JABBING MY HOST!" Thanks a bunch! Have a great week!

And so it goes

Any typical school morning finds me asking, "Liam, do you have your backpack or binder or lunch?"
"Yeah."
Dada interjects, "brain?"
Liam stops. "What?"
I crack up.
Liam inquires, "Did you say ears?"
I laugh a little bit harder.
Dada emphasizes, "BRAIN!"
Liam processes. "Oh." 

And guess whose science textbook and notebook have been sitting on the kitchen table since he finished the homework on Wednesday night? Doesn't do you a whole lot of good to do it and then not turn it in for the credit...

TGIF. Welcome to May, everybody.

#EmptyGlassCity

We are on our second day of "do not use the water" advice. I do find it completely ironic that the kids and I spent the entire day on Friday at Maumee Bay, having the time of our lives with several other moms and all their kids. We had joked about the kids glowing, but had no idea that first thing the next morning all the stores in the area would be bought out of bottled water. Crazy times. Whoever coined the "#emptyglasscity" slogan should have copyrighted it fast.

There have been a lot of jokes about not showering, and how we can all stink together, and stories of people checking on neighbors and volunteering to distribute water and neighbors letting other neighbors know when a shipment of water arrives at a nearby store. Sadly, there have also been stories of people hogging resources and scuffling over what we all take for granted every day.

They are claiming that it is okay to shower in, as long as you keep your mouth closed. A doctor friend of mine advised against washing laundry right now, saying that we'll get rashes. We're not to boil the water; apparently that increases the potency of the toxins they've found in the water. The powers that be seem to hold off on telling us results of tests they've sent away for. They announce that we'll be told at a certain time, the certain time rolls around, and then we're told we'll be informed later.

I mentioned to Dada that perhaps they have the problem solved already and they're just using this set of circumstances to further plan and adapt in case of a situation where there really IS no water. We're blessed that we have power. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be without both, though thankfully it isn't anywhere near as hot as it could be. Dealing with this right at 80 degrees is one thing, but if it hit 92 or something, it would be unbearable.

We are coping fine. We picked up water yesterday. Nobody has showered since Friday night. I've always wanted to try dreadlocks- now might be a good time!

The dishes have piled up alarmingly, but they will wait. We have paper supplies from the Christmas in July party that happened last weekend instead of this weekend, thank goodness.

It is humbling to think about places in our world where this is a regular aspect of real life. Where simple things like showers are luxuries. Where running to a faucet and having clean water come out is a remote possiblity, not a privilege we assume is a right.

My mother, for years, has fretted over the Southwest and their water situation. It strikes me as odd that we are on top of a Great Lake and have no water when there are entire desert communities who manage to find what they need every day. Life is strange. I'm not to first to recite, "water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink."

Knocking wood, so far so good. We're healthy and the inconvenience has given us a chance to reflect and be thankful that this is not our life usually. I guess the hashtag should really be #blessedbeyondmeasure and we should all take some steps to be more responsible stewards. It's easy to throw the farming communities under the bus by saying it's all runoff from them and their practices, but while they are part of the problem the blame is not solely theirs. We need to have a much broader perspective. City council people need to plan for the well-being of their great grandchildren and not just settle for the cheapest bid to accomplish x,y, or z. Nobody is too small to help. Recycle. Plant trees. Pick up your own mess, and perhaps someone else's. Reuse. Don't be suckered; use your brain and ask yourself if you really need to buy every new thing that comes along. This experience should be a wake up call, not a pity party. Be part of the solutions, whether you're here in the #emptyGlassCity or in your own slice of heaven on earth.