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!

A change of season

 Happy first day of Spring! WaaaaaHOOOOOOO!

I'm looking forward to warmth and green, growing things. I've had enough of gray and bleh.

As of next week, I'll have had enough of chemo, as well! As the kids at karate say, "LAST ONE, BEST ONE!" Looking forward to being done with chemical infusions and holding bags of ice to help prevent neuropathy whilst rocking my compression socks for the same reason. Truly, I'm a sight to behold. Especially as my hair is coming back like duck fuzz. Again.

It always cracks me up how inventive nurses are. I ask for some ice chips to suck on to prevent mouth sores and some ice to hold. I've been given small, sealable bags of ice, a big bag of ice with a buffer around it for more comfortable holding, and multiple rubber gloves filled with ice. Bless their sweet hearts for making things interesting!

So here's hoping and praying that next week's chemo will be the last one I'll ever need. Dada's going with me to kick this all to the curb for good, God willing!

I love my nurses and will be sad to be seeing them less regularly, but even they have said, "we love you but we don't want to see you here anymore!" Talk about a sendoff, hehe. I'll also miss some of the little old people who go for iron infusions and so forth. Some are such characters and I'll miss the back and forth teasing. 

But it is springtime and time to move on to the next thing!

It's been encouraging to see my blood count numbers come back up slowly. I'm looking forward to better energy. I've gotten to sub some and it's been so fun to be back amongst my friends big and small. I'm blessed to be somewhere with such a caring staff and fun families. 

I feel like I've been stuck in a holding pattern, so am very much anticipating seeing what's next. It's been hard to blog when everything is stuck in the same gear... just grinding along. I think the end of winter feels like that for a lot of people. 

Anybody thinking about a garden this year? What are you planting? Anybody have seeds started already? I am still debating if I want to do all that work this year or stick to some pots on the deck. Most likely that's the route I'll take. I love playing in the dirt, but I feel like, right now anyway, that we have enough going on in enough different directions. Plus, do I really want to be weeding? Hmm. I'm not good at that! I feel like Fagin in "Oliver"... "IIIIIII think I better think it out again!"

Chins up, everybody- winter is on its way out!

Engine, engine #9...

Now that'll be in everybody's head:

Engine, engine number nine, going down Chicago line. If the train should jump the track, do I get my money back? Yes, no, maybe so, maybe 40 years ago! 

I KNOW Lisa just read that with the claps in the right places. 

I've been dealing with a sinus thing lately. Not a bad one, but the kind where even when your head feels okay, when you blow your nose your tissue then indicates that things are NOT okay. Also, when you bend over to retrieve anything from below knee level it feels like perhaps your head would like to take a field trip to a bowling alley to just roll away down the lane. 

So I was a bit concerned yesterday when I had my blood draw sent to the lab and was preparing to ask for at least a bag of fluids if my numbers were too low to proceed with chemo #9 (and there's the tie in to the title). To my great delight, my nurse said, "You're good to go for chemo- your white blood cells are back up, almost twice what they were last time! They're at 5 today and they were 2.6 last week!" 

Wahoooooooo! Thanks to any of you who have been praying over that. I was fully prepared to get things pushed back despite desperately not wanting that to happen. Yay!

My weight was down a tad from where it had been two weeks ago when I weighed in at my heaviest. That was a little alarming because my doc had told me at the beginning, "I really don't want you over X" and I thought with a scoff, "no problem. I will never weigh X" and then that weigh in two weeks ago was a single pound under X! Yikes! Granted, I did forget to factor in that this is winter so the clothes I'm being weighed in are also heavier than when I'm not wearing anything on my scale at home! 😅 I ALWAYS forget that!

In addition to the wall paper paste I'm blowing out of my schnoz, there's plenty of small blood clots as my membranes are pretty dried out by the combination of heated indoor winter air and the drying effects of chemo. My throat is dry even despite drinking 64+ ounces of water most days and I'm going through more eye drops than usual, as well. I know it's just a season, but I'll be glad when the ickiness is over. I'm ready to air out the house big time and I miss outdoor recess! 

Being inside with small germ factories children is taking a toll on everybody. Our teachers are sick or their kids are sick, and the subs are sick or our kids are sick. We need a 2319 like in Monsters, Inc or, better yet, decontamination spaces like in the movies so everyone who enters or exits school is cleared. Maybe someday. And then I'll probably wish I'd kept my mouth shut. WHOOOOOOOOSH!

No personal doc visit yesterday. I think the next one is at the end of the month, for my final visit. Only 3 chemos to go! Please keep praying that I stay healthy enough. I need to get this over with. I love seeing my nurses, but I'd like to see them OUTSIDE of a clinical setting, haha!

Rocks defeat cars as well as scissors

 Grab a Christmas cookie and a hot drink. This'll be lengthy. 

See that tiny bruise on my palm? That is because all y'all pray for me, especially during this chemo season. 

That tiny bruise is the only mark I have on me after my adventure to chemo #3 yesterday. Settle in and I'll tell you a tale of a damsel in distress and the heroic knights who stepped in to help her.

Yesterday morning, surprise snow started before bus time. It was pretty and swirly and Thing Three and I enjoyed watching the flakes dance in the headlights of oncoming vehicles on our road as we waited for his bus. We laughed at the swirls of them after the cars passed. 

Apparently it took everyone by surprise as no warnings had been given or salt trucks or plows or anything. Dada went into the office and texted back that the back roads were covered and to be careful if I went down any back roads to chemo.

Aye aye, cap'n.

So I took the interstate, saw at least two vehicles in the median, an ambulance coming on the oncoming side, passed a salt truck, all was well. The exit ramp was ... okay. The main drag was fine albiet still under construction. The only back road I took had another vehicle in front of me and HE managed the turn just fine. 

Ori had other ideas. 

Apparently I complain often about not being able to parallel park, because he took it upon himself to skid straight across the road and park (Thing One said "that's not parking- that's camping") in the landscaping on the opposite side despite the driving expert in my brain hollering, "don't mash the brakes; pump them!" I yelled back, "I AM pumping them and have been!" Then he hollered, "don't yank the wheel; steer into it!" I yelled back, "I'm TRYING!"

Too late. Into the decorative tall grasses and large rocks we went. 

*Insert cloud of piratey talk here. Loud. Repetitive. Think Napoleon at the bowling alley in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when he gets a gutter ball, only my swearing was not eloquent French but repetitive cursing in my native language. I even threw in one of the words I feel Henry Cavill's Witcher says well, though my favorite is when John Malkovich says it. Moving on.*

It's not in any of the pictures, but believe it or not, these homeowners also have a big pond a little further beyond the rocks I hit. I doubt I'd have ever made it that far, but it's another aspect to be grateful for because being wet and cold would have been ever so much worse.

Bah. Rocks win every time.

I immediately call chemo to tell them I'll be late- alas, I was put on hold so another cloud of piratey talk ensued while I listened with the other ear for the woman to come back on the phone. I told her the basics and that I'd call back when I knew more. 

I called 911, my first ever experience, so there you go, Sharon- I live a sheltered life. The dispatcher informed me someone would be there right away and sure enough, within minutes an extrememly pleasant officer from the Sheriff's office pulls up and gets the ball rolling with the paperwork. Within a few more minutes, a tow truck shows up and another cheerful fellow hops out to take the situation in hand, me apologizing, him tut tutting that it's no problem, that he's seen so much worse.

I had already told the officer that I was headed to chemo and asked him dejectedly if he would be so kind as to take me there. Since I could have walked, though it would have taken awhile, and I think because he was pleased I'd be getting medical attention anyway, he said sure and had me bundle all the things I had to rescue from the car into the back seat of his cruiser.

Y'all, I've also never been in a police car before. He told me I got to sit up front. He EVEN asked if I wanted the lights and siren when we pulled up to chemo. 🙈 When I told some of the nurses that, they were all giggles and said they'd have said yes, but I was worried someone inside would think there was an emergency in an area with medically fragile people and opted a polite no, thank you. 

PLUS, and from a purely selfish and wanting to save any shred of dignity I had left standpoint, THANK GOODNESS we had mostly emptied the car out from our Thanksgiving trip because as it was, I was taking my purse and a backpack to chemo so I could work on Christmas cards and read and stuff, but I also had bags of boxes I was planning to mail. AND a skateboard from the trunk that belongs to the firstborn as well as a speaker and CDs and whatever else I thought shouldn't be sitting around in a towed domain. 

I looked at the officer and said, "do you think I'm the only person to head into chemo with a skateboard?" He chuckled at me. Such a good sport. 

Bye Ori. I'm so sorry. Goodness.

I am SO GLAD that it happened to me and not any of our family's young drivers. I am so thankful that nobody was coming the other way and that I didn't hurt anybody. I'm so glad I was already slowed, knowing it is a rough right turn. I'm glad I was as close as I was to chemo, that the tow truck could pull it out fairly easily. You guys, I KNOW that is all because of your prayers. Thank you. Clearly they are working! The nurses laughed at how good my blood pressure was despite the morning I'd already had. Nurses I've only had once before kept popping in to say, "Val! What in the world!? Are you okay? Oh my goodness!" Definitely the best team. I'm in such good hands. They even asked if I had a ride home- I did, the lovely Zita- and the nurses were hoping to get out of work early to get me home, haha!

My doc laughed and shook her head at me after she hugged me. She looked at all the stuff I'd lugged in and laughed again, calling for a wheelchair not for me but for ease of moving all that stuff to another room for chemo. She said, "in all my years of medicine, I've never had anyone stick googly eyes on their chemo, and I've never seen anyone bring a skateboard in the winter." I asked her how in the world I'm supposed to top it next time I go in. Grinning at me, she informed me all my blood cell numbers are perfect and everything looks great and that I'm tolerating all of this really, really well. 

Some of you are probably wondering if my port worked this time. Yes and no. My nurse, I'll call her J, whom I haven't seen since 6 years ago and was delighted to catch up with, asked how things were going (other than the accident) and I told her last week when I was in that it wouldn't draw blood. She started it, said, "hooray, we got it- oh no" and then we went through the "take a deeeeep, slow breath" and "okay, let's try arms up" and "let's lay you down because it might be positional" and finally, "okay, let me order some cath- [something or other but my brain changed it to cath-pow like Abby's CAFF-POW on NCIS] which eventually worked and they got blood out but the lab came again and my left elbow sacrificed to another jab. The lab lady, different from last week, was also excellent and nailed it first try. Apparently I'm staying well hydrated. 

Chemo went uneventfully, thank goodness, and I got some Christmas cards done and spoke with an insurance gal who was in Arizona, the lucky duck, but was from Missouri so knew about snow and ice and she felt sorry for me and I made her laugh when I told her the story, so all is in the works and I had a day of amazing people all around. 

Thing One said, "hmm, maybe we should have people pray for whatever vehicle you're taking, too. There was a loophole in there somewhere. God was scanning, 'Val, Val, Val, Val, chemo, Val, nope, nothing about the car, we're good!' ... my baby!!!!!" Poor thing. It's the same car the huge oak limb fell on and we'd gotten the entire roof and windshield replaced. Guess it was my turn to take out the bottom. I have no idea how much damage I did to the undercarriage and it's a 2007 so we shall see what insurance says. Man.

So I hope you enjoyed your cookie and hot drink and a story to make you laugh. I'm fine, all is well, 2024 has not been my year but that's okay, nobody was hurt except our poor, faithful Ori who clearly, despite what he thinks, does NOT know how to parallel park any better than I do!

Be safe out there, people. Tis the season for GERMS and scary road situations. And clean out your vehicle. 😉

Seriously, thank you all for the prayers. I know they make a difference. My doc told me she would have understood if I'd cancelled but was thrilled that I came despite everything so we could stay on schedule. The facts that the tiny bruise was the only physical mark on me, that my blood pressure was great, that I didn't cry when the authorities showed up... all of that points to His faithfulness to me because of your interventions. Please don't doubt that prayer works. I'm living, breathing proof!

Skellie Shenanigans

 Thing Two had his annual checkup with Dr. Jon, the amazing pediatrician we've had for 19 years now. He is a great sport, so we figured he'd get a kick out of some Shenanigans. Cadaver made an appearance to the absolute delight of the nurses and we waited to see if Dr. Jon could pick out the real Thing Two...

We got a few looks in the waiting room...

Dr. Jon took it in stride and said we should have Cadaver get on the scale to see which one of them actually weighed the most. As usual, he cautioned Thing Two about the potential detriment he might face if he gets a bad illness as he has zero body fat and no padding to draw from if he loses weight from being sick. Otherwise he was pleased with the visit and said his heart and lungs and all that jazz sounded great and that it's fun to hear all of it through very little extra padding, haha! 

He showed us the BMI chart, on which Thing Two doesn't even register. He said that the chart makers weren't going to make an extra low line just for him. He said he's still growing though it's slow and steady and he had gained a little in height and weight both since his last check. Overall, he was pleased to see us, Cadaver and all, and Thing Two got his flu shot. 

And we gave my Dad a roommate 😀:

I didn't die! What I remember and where I am now

 Hello everyone! *waves with left hand* This post will have some fun photos and some more sensitive ones, so viewers should proceed with caution, like one hand over their eyes (for some of you) and the knowledge that I'm okay! 

Sorry for the radio silence. My brain still feels a bit slow, but this is always good therapy so here goes. Please bear with me if I get distracted before proofreading or lose my place in the story, haha.

One week ago we headed into the city for surgery first thing Wednesday morning. Report time was 5 AM with surgery to start at 7. The night before was the usual nothing by mouth after midnight (just in case I were to turn into a Gremlin, I suppose) so in that sense it was nice to be there early; less time to feel sorry for myself due to hunger and dehydration. I get crabby from both!

That green circle, above, surrounds the little dimpled area of this squatting troublemaker. It's not truly in my armpit so much as just in front of it.

Below, the arrow points to the scar from where my port was during my year of infusions, the circle is over the previous scar from my right side surgical drain post-mastectomy, and the X marks the general area of the tumor. Ignore the hair- I wasn't allowed to shave in the days leading up to surgery. Not that anybody is looking that closely, just my disclaimer. 😅

We woke up at 4 AM because I needed my final of the 6 showers with the special super-duper sudsy germ killing soap first. That done, we snuck out of our friends' house and drove the not quite half hour to the hospital. They checked us in and immediately started to draw on me and initial their work so everyone is on the same page and body part and all that. 

                                                 

I had a sweet nurse who told me they'd get me an expert to start my IV, so then I had another sweet nurse come in to do just that and she nailed it on the first try. Woot! I met my surgery nurse and the anesthesiologist (holy COW, I got that right on the first try- no way!) and her assistant, and both docs came in to go over things, and then it was time to smooch Dada and get wheeled into my adventure!

                      

Gotta love my duck socks. And my fun compression boots that kept all my blood circulating and helped prevent clots while I was under anesthesia. These guys really know what they're doing! Everyone was incredibly kind, and let me tell you, I remember kissing Dada... and I have zero memory of even making it into the OR. Not kidding. Not being pushed through the doors, feeling the coldness of the room, not the bright lights, none of it. 

I didn't even get to use my bite sticks! I had one in my hand and was completely befuddled when I asked about the dye going in and how it feels like an angry hornet and they smiled at me and said, "oh no, we'll wait until you're sleeping for that." Could have knocked me over with a feather. Unbelievable. So I got to give that to Dada to put in my purse as I left him. Such good fortune! Hooray! No stinging!

And you guys, thanks for praying. One, I was not allergic to the dye. I am still bluish green in areas to prove it. Thank you! Two, apparently they had to do the long version after all and I didn't die! Dr A had not expected the lymph node mapping to work, and she was right, unfortunately. That meant after Dr A removed the tumor, surrounding tissue, and whatever lymph nodes were in there and attempted the mapping, Dr H also had to step in to reroute the severed lymph vessels into suitable veins. Apparently my previous radiation damage made that trickier in that he had to dig deeper to find recipient veins, but he was able to make five connections and was pleased. 

I woke up in recovery some time after all that and that's all pretty fuzzy. I know I vomited at least once- maybe when they tried to stand me up the first time? They said that happens often. 

One of the nice parts is that all of this procedure happened on the same floor: pre-op, the surgery, and the post-op care. No elevator rides, less chance of germs being handed around, no chance to get lost, haha. It was a really nice set up! My nurses, Abby and Alexis and Jesse and Chris were all fantastic, excellent educators, caring, kind, encouraging. I forget which person handed me the plastic tool that they want you to inhale from to make sure that your lung sacs are opening post-anesthesia, but she started to give directions and I took in a huge breath- the little indicator hit the top wall- and she laughed mid-instruction and said, "well, okay then, champ!" Guess all that walking and running this spring and summer made the odds ever in my favor. That and all your prayers, for sure! Thank you so much! 

I ate all my dinner, which was noodles, mashed potatoes, a roll and green beans- yes, Mother, there is visual proof in a photo below (I am NOT a fan of green beans)- and I didn't die! Haha. And my strawberry ice cream and later some orange sherbet with a turkey sandwich. I remember brushing my teeth later and wondering why my toothpaste was orange colored when I spit it out before I remembered about the orange sherbet. I think I also had another turkey sandwich around 4 AM...

They kept me overnight since I'd had the long version, and booted me out before 8 AM the following morning, sending me home with Tylenol and ibuprofen to alternate between, my inhaling-suck-it-in tool, two front-closing sports bras to help hold my dressing in place, gloves and wipes and all that jazz for Dada to use whilst emptying my surgical drain twice daily (fun times but not painful) and various dressings. 

And my duck socks. 

So now I'm colorful from the dye and the bruising:

The blue dots on my arm are where the plastic surgeon injected his own set of dyes to trace where the lymph vessels drained and to match with the veins. I also had blue dye injected into the webbing of my right hand between each finger. Mercifully I was asleep for all that. It is quite clear to me that I'd make a terrible junkie.

And I'm a bit rashy because of adhesives and cleansers, which is apparently a side effect of chemo because it happened then, as well. Benadryl helps and I know the itching won't be forever. Nothing like sporting weird racing stripes of rash in odd places and having one bumpy arm:

In addition to those itches, I had been warned ahead of time that post-surgery there would be light, tickly feelings on my right arm and that I'd need to rub it to desensitize those nerves and get them used to reporting in when something was actually touching me. Dada, who loves to give light tickly touches, was delighted. I am not a fan of light tickly touches because they tickle! Thing Two and I are firmly in the Firm Touches camp. I have indeed felt as though spider webs or Thing Two's hairs have been draped along my arm, or as though a drip of moisture is sliding down, and am brushing and rubbing and scratching gently accordingly. Mostly it feels like when you've slept funny and your arm is asleep, unusually heavy, right before the tingles of the blood rushing back in begins. Sometimes the skin gets stuck together in the adhesives that I have to let flake off. I'm allowed to shower but not let that part face the stream of water yet. So things get a little pinchy on that side.

I'm to not lift anything heavier than two pounds on my right side and I'm not to lift higher than 45 degrees this first week. If you want to know what that's like, go unload your dishwasher with your opposite hand and you'll have a pretty good idea. Get a gallon of milk out of the fridge with your off hand. Set a lot of things down so you can open the fridge or cabinet or door first and then pick the stuff back up with your "bad" hand. It's entertaining, but I am so astoundingly bad at brushing my teeth with my off hand, that I've gone back to using my chicken wing right side. 

I'm drinking lots of water, eating whatever I want, playing lots of solitaire on my phone and watching way too much TV, but I don't feel like I can focus on a book quite yet. This post alone has taken me about two hours, though there were some interruptions, including a thunderstorm followed by intense sunshine which resulted in this: 

Thank you again, all of you, for being invaluable members of my tribe. I am sure the docs will be pleased at my follow up appointments and I am healing well. I've gone from meds every four hours to meds about three times a day. I slept through the entire night last night and I can't tell you when that last happened! We're still waiting to hear if there was lymph node involvement so we know if I will need chemo in addition to hormone therapy, and I'm not sure when we will get those results. Thank you all so much. You are among my many blessings. 

Home again, home again, jiggety jig!

 Hiya! This will be brief; as my creative juices are still a little sludgy, but I am HOME. We got booted out yesterday morning after I was able to waddle around the hospital floor in my grippy yellow duckfoot socks, use the bathroom, eat several times and pass all the mini exams they have you perform. I'm going to be in recovery mode a little while, but wanted to thank you all for the prayers, cards, texts, calls, all of it. Truly the best tribe ever! 

They did have to do the long version and that included sending the 2/3 of my right side lymph nodes out for inspection, so we won't hear the results of that right away. However, my docs were pleased, my nurses were proud of me, and everyone seems to think I'm doing very well. I'm alternating Advil and Tylenol every four hours, have no dietary restrictions, and I will not be power lifting anytime soon as I can't lift more on my right side than two pounds until I have my follow up appointment next week. I promise that I will try to behave myself and not overdo things. I am very much looking forward to my first shower, my surgical drain is doing a good job sucking out my fluids, and it was nice to sleep in my own bed with tons of pillows!

Have a wonderful day, my excellent tribe. I love you all!

Not a sympathy pitch, I swear!

 I had the most Monday-est Monday I can ever recall having yesterday. What was to be a normal, run of the mill checkup with my oncologist turned into a day of much more excitement that I had anticipated.

The short version is that everything is fine. My blood counts were all "perfect." Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

The unabridged version is a bit more graphic involving bodily fluids and sharp, pointy objects. You may choose to stop reading here and rest assured that I'm fine. (*cough* Hinrew, ahem.)

Still curious? As they say on the Knight Bus in Harry Potter, "it's gonna be a bumpy ride!"

I drove myself to my doctor's office and sat down to have my blood drawn. I knew this was coming; they do this first so they can run the numbers so that the doc will have them to go over with you before you leave. I'd already drank at least 32 ounces of water and a mug and a half of tea before I arrived for my 10:30 appointment. I'd also had a lot of water the night before as I'd ridden my bike for about 15 minutes and drank a good bit of water before bed. 

Well, the nurse tried to stick me the first time and said my vein blew. It happens. I know this. (When I was delivering Damon they tried at least 4 and maybe 5 different places to get an IV going. It may have been more. I lost count as I was a little distracted by contractions.)  She apologized and tried again. She got it that time and got the blood she needed. However, sometime during that draw, I told her I was getting a little sparkly and was going to put my head back against the wall. I did that and apparently passed right out anyway. I remember dreaming vividly and then woke up with one of the guys who works there propping my feet up against his legs and my nurse was holding my hand. I may have even wet myself at this point. Either way, I passed out again and this time I for sure peed my pants AND vomited AND the nurse told me when I woke up that I had also seized. This has never happened to me before. I somehow managed to not swallow or vomit my gum, which was a lifesaver afterwards. Yech. They said I was out 15-20 seconds and that I was alert as soon as I came to. I do remember dreaming again the second time, as well. 

I begin, naturally, with apologizing. The nurses are so darling. They brought me fresh pants and helped me change and kept their eagles' eyes on me while I waited for poor Dada to come collect me and my things and take me to the hospital for further evaluation, leaving one car behind. I cannot state enough how much I despise making more work for people, and the fact that they had to mop and change and all that drives me crazy, even though my nurse said her second pair of pants for the day was much more comfy than her first. I know it's an occupational hazard and that it won't be the first or last time they have to experience it, but goodness, I still hate that they had to go through it. Guess everyone needs a little excitement on a Monday, right? Ugh. Insert many, many eye rolls here.

So off to the hospital I go with my knight in shining armor. We get all checked in, I pee in a cup, I tell my story and he fills in details and then they want to get more blood and an IV in for fluids. The sweet nurse examines my arm for a few minutes and decides to attempt a stick in the back of my left hand. That vein blew. Rather than stick me again, she asks around for who on duty knows how to do an ultrasound IV, which was new to me. Lo and behold a guy who spent 8 years in the Marines comes in with his cart and listens to my story and confidently informs me that he'll find a "big, honkin' vein" and go from there. I tell him that they're not cooperating well today and he says we'll make it behave. So he scrolls his ultrasound around and decides on the inner side of my left bicep. I thought it would hurt more, so I asked, "is it in already?" and he sounded a little less confident when he answered, "not quite yet." It did hurt a little more but he did get it in and then he taped the bejeezus out of it so it wouldn't go anywhere. During the sticking and for a few minutes afterward, my heart rate plummeted to 39. Dada said I was in the red there for awhile. My sweet nurse came back in and said, "I figured by the numbers he was trying to stick you. Poor thing, you really don't like getting poked, do you?" She tilted my bed so that my head was lower than my feet for awhile. They're all so good at this game. 

They got their blood and a bag of fluids going. It's been awhile since chemo, so I'd forgotten how cold you can get when room temperature or chilled bags of fluid are entering you. I was shivering and sweet Dada asked for a blanket for me. I had an EKG where they stick 10 stickers all over you and the plugs go to the stickers and then, in a blink of an eye, it's over and she's unplugging me and unstickerizing me as I tell her that Damon likes to slyly sneak stickers from bananas onto my back as he hugs me.

They also wanted a chest Xray and a head CT so a radiology tech wheeled me through the maze of halls as we chatted about does she get her 10,000 recommended steps and she says most days, but it depends on the day. I sadly informed her that I probably wouldn't be getting mine that day.

Everything looked good there, so back to my ER room and they did one of those blood pressure tests where you're laying down, then sitting, then standing, and all those numbers corresponded within where they should be. 

The doctor came in and listened to my story, especially my concern that while I've passed out because of needles before, I'd never peed or vomited or seized. He reassured me that any of those things can happen when someone is unconscious, including defectating, which I'm thanking my lucky stars was something I can leave out of the mix, and he says that it might not have been a seizure, per say. He wanted me to schedule an EEG just to make sure epilepsy can be ruled out. Great. Another first for me. And a follow up appointment with a neurologist. Yay, yet another first! He said that all the tests looked good and showed no areas of concern and suggested that maybe it was just low volume of my blood and he told me to hydrate. That part still doesn't make sense to me as I specifically drank extra ahead of time knowing I'd be getting stuck. Oh well.

This afternoon is my follow up appointment with my family doctor who was kept in the loop and next Monday I meet with the neurologist. 

So, the point of all that is to tell you two things: one, I am fine, and two, if you ever feel like you're having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day like Alexander, ask yourself if you've peed yourself and vomited and played pincushion all in the same morning. I'm thinking of changing all my social media account user names to Not I, Cacti! #NotICacti has a nice ring to it.

I'm fortunate that my mental health is at a place where I could come home, have a good cry in the shower as I peeled off all the bandaids from the sticks, and realize that yes, while it certainly ranked up there as the most craptastic day I've had in a very long time, it was just a day and they'll look better going forward. I had my man by my side, excellent and caring medical professionals all day long, the kids here at home were already in their groove of online learning so (at least theoretically) they didn't need me every minute, and all results were positive. Overall, blessed beyond measure. So I had to wash a load of clothes- that happens just about every day anyway. 

The biggest inconvenience, and it is just that, is that I'm not supposed to drive until after the EEG just so they're sure I'm not epileptic. That makes things a little more difficult but also isn't earth shattering or long lasting. Another inconvenience will be that I have three extra appointments versus the one I'd have had yesterday if everything had gone as expected. I should have remembered- it's 2020; why would anything go as expected? I'm winking, you just can't see me.

The perk of seeing my doc today is that I can hopefully also get my flu shot, haha! Win! Always a silver lining. 

Liam, the Squirrel Whisperer

A week ago (already!) I doo doo doo looking out my back door (sorry, it's how my brain works, haha) and saw Liam and the Bos just sitting there, chillin'. I saw front feet on Liam's hoodie and thought, "that's a really large frog...? Waitaminute. That has a tail." 

Yes, folks, Liam is indeed petting a squirrel.

The story as I heard it was that Bos was not clipped into his tie out and grabbed a squirrel's tail as it tried to scamper up a tree. He dragged it back down by its tail, Liam intervened, and the pictures are of it clinging to Liam for dear life. After being told multiple times that it is a wild animal and that he needs to let it go, he informed me that it wouldn't get off him, he was trying, it didn't want to leave him, he was trying, it won't let go, he was trying...

He finally made it back inside sans squirrel and was sent to wash his hands under supervision. He announced it had bitten him when he finally got it off of him, but there was only a tiny pinprick and no blood so I asked if it could have been a nail scratching him as it left. "Oh, could be." 

So I did what any good mom would do: I texted a nurse friend and asked about rabies. To her credit, she chuckled as she researched and didn't just laugh. According to the CDC, they are almost never to be found to be infected and haven't been known to cause rabies in the US among humans. 

Liam isn't any weirder than usual, so I guess we dodged that bullet. His finger never changed in appearance and he's no different than any other day, so all's well that ends well. Whew. Like I need any more crazy in May. 

And happy nurses' and teachers' week! I shudder to think where we would be without all y'all. Thank you for taking such good care of us!

Health, one year later, and assorted teasers

*photos, so viewer discretion advised if needed*

I promise I am not this color in real life, haha; dunno what is with looking like this! So this is what my skin looks like 4 months post-radiation. I'm trying to remember to lotion it daily. There is still a patch on the back of my shoulder of darker skin as well, but I couldn't get a good shot of it in the mirror with my phone. 

Overall, I'm feeling really good, for those of you who are keeping tabs on me. I'm on the other end of allergies/sinus/cold; around Easter weekend I felt like I'd walked into a sliding glass door. All that pressure and underwater gunkage feeling like your head is a bowling ball and you don't dare lean over to tie your shoes for fear you won't be able to right yourself again. Then it headed down and I started coughing. Soon I sounded worse than I felt for a few days and now I'm rarely coughing. Yay!

My hair is back, another yay! People keep asking if I'm going to grow it out again or keep it short. Time will tell. My friend who trimmed and tidied it told me it takes awhile for the top of your head to catch up to everywhere else. She said once my duck fuzz turns back into real hair it'll cooperate a little better, haha, and that I was to wait eight weeks before seeing her again or I'd feel like I was making no progress at all. My mom said, "your hair has always been attractive but now it is CUTE!" Thanks, Mom =)

Friday was my one year anniversary since the official "yes, you have breast cancer" diagnosis. I want to take a minute to thank everybody who sent anything physically like mail or blankets or cookies. Thanks for carving out time to run that errand. Every single one was appreciated. And not one less iota of thanks to those of you who prayed for me and sent me good juju throughout this year. I seriously would not be in the good shape (round is a shape!) I'm in if you hadn't invested in me. Thank you for checking in, for letting me know you were keeping track of the blog, for the facebook encouragement, all of it. Thank you, Tribe!

And now another minute to remind everyone to not put off those doctors' appointments. That goes for you, too, men; I'm not only preaching to the ladies here. There are trained professionals who want to help you be your best you! Fixing problems when they're small or early can save you tons of time and money and aggravation and heartache later on. AND LET PEOPLE HELP. For goodness sake, you are a human being, not a burden, so stop suffering in silence and ask for what you need! Be specific. You matter!

Last Thursday, just before my one year anniversary, I had my last infusion of Herceptin and Perjeta. Hooray! My blood counts looked good (WBC 3.96, HGB 12.3, PLT 123- that was for my nurse friends) though white blood cells were down a little bit because of my germs. My fabulous nurses hugged me and made me cry, of course. I'll be back in six weeks to check to see how the new oral meds that I start in three weeks are working. I have the best nurses. *beam*

And life just keeps going on!  The house is an absolute wreck as we were busy doing projects all weekend. You know, little things like planting seeds in the garden, sunny patch out back  who am I kidding, the swamp that is supposed to be a garden. And huge things like the big kids passing their fight test to become certified second degree black belts, wahoo! Toss in church, a hike through the closest woods with Bosley the mud-dog, Carrie having a friend sleep over, actual sunshine to play catch outside in, and apparently a lot of snacks judging by the wrappers and crumbs strewn everywhere. Shake, add more mud, and you pretty much have it. Grandmama helped a ton last week but it already looks like there has been no parental supervision for a week. 

Some idiot (I blame Delores) took too many pictures during the fight test (and the other two tests, as usual) so once I'm done sifting through my own mess I'll get those posted. 

For anyone interested, graduation will be Saturday, May 11, so let us know if you'd like to come see the big kids get their new belts! Liam and Damon have decided they do not wish to continue training right now (here's where you feel free to channel Iago from Disney's Aladdin, "this is me about to die from NOT SURPRISE!") but Carrie really, really wants the sword that comes with your official third degree black belt and since she's working there anyway she might as well keep training. If you need a butt kicked, she's your girl. Haha!

And for all of you, May is right around the blessed corner. I know. Moms everywhere just burst into tears. Remember, May is only one month. School is almost done. Before you know it, all those projects and papers and presentations and book reviews and wax museum days and spring sports and field trips and school lunches will be things of memory. Breathe. You've got this.

And then they will be home all day, but that's another post altogether.

A gory details post

One might infer from the title that there will be material shown here which could make some readers uncomfortable. There's no shame in skipping this post. Read at your own risk. 

That said, I'll try to be sensitive as well. 

Here's me, pre-op, in my magic gown. You guys, this gown was so cool! When I was putting it on, I couldn't remember if the nurse had said to have it open in the front or in the back, so I of course assumed, "well, boob surgery would mean they're working on my front so it has to open in the front, right?" and that's how I put it on. Wrong! Haha! The nurse giggled at me and said, "everyone thinks that, but it actually is to open in the back" because there are all these cool layers to the gown including pockets that they can run tubes through which can warm or cool the patient accordingly. Magic! Whoever thought that up is brilliant. We fixed my gown and got me ready to go.

My OR people came in and introduced themselves. They asked me if I wanted a surgical cap of some kind and I asked if it was warm in the OR. One of the anesthesiologists said, "it's freezing in there" so I got a snazzy blue shower cap. He then gave me my calming, pre-op "margarita" mix, Dada kissed me good luck and they wheeled me into the OR. I remember looking up at the light bulbs that look like ice cubes in the huge light fixtures. I met a nurse who said his name was Mike, I remember the team saying something wasn't working right and that they needed another one... blood pressure machine, perhaps? And then I don't remember anything after that. Once again, I have no recollection of my surgeon or the head anesthesiologist being even in the room. I did not get a catheter, (big hooray!) or the breathing tube that heads clear down into your lungs (another big hooray!) I had what I think is called an LMA which is a tube that just lays at the top, back of your throat in case they need it for anything later. Less invasive and a not-as-sore throat later on. I only felt the soreness of it pretty much that same day and the next day.  

I think Dada said they started on me in the OR at 8:47 and I was wheeled into Recovery at about 10:40. I woke up and stared fuzzily at the large clock in Recovery at about 11:10 when violent shivers started. I told my nurse I wasn't cold but I was certainly quaking and she said the anesthesia does that. It didn't last too long and I got an extra toasty blankie out of the deal, haha! Since I didn't have to wait for a chest X-ray this time, I had some ice chips immediately and got to chat with my nurses as the underwater, operating on a slower record speed feeling when I turned my head faded. My surgeon came into check on me and asked if I'd decided if I wanted to stay overnight or not yet. I hadn't decided. Some of you are floored at what I've read online as a "drive by mastectomy", and believe me, I took that decision seriously, too. My surgeon and some of my nurses were strongly of the opinion that I'd sleep better and less interrupted at home and would therefore heal better. I suppose they also factor in the amount of germs in hospitals. It felt like it took me forever to decide and it wasn't because I was in any pain. I felt some hotness/burning sensation in the general surgery area but no actual pain. My surgeon had commented that people tell him mastectomy surgery hurts less than even laparoscopic procedures and I have to admit I didn't really believe him. However since this is Saturday and the surgery was Monday and I took absolutely nothing for pain yesterday at all, I guess he knew what he was talking about!

Once you're done in Recovery they send you to the next room to keep an eye on you. Dada was invited back to see me and I had one of the same nurses I'd had after my port surgery this spring, so that was really neat. She brought me more water and some Rice Krispie Treats, and kept a good eye on me. I did eventually decide I could go home the same day so she prepped my discharge papers and my folder of info I'd need to change dressings, how to take care of my drains which prevent fluid building up at the surgical sites (I have one on each side), signs to watch out for, etc. 

And the magic continued. They set me up with a scopolamine patch (thank goodness for Auto Correct finding that for me) which they stick to the skin behind your ear. It administers anti-nausea meds over a period of three days so you don't have any ill effects from the anesthesia. I was warned to not scratch it or touch it and then rub my eyes as it would dilate my pupils and then people would look at you funny, assume a head injury and order a CT scan. "Make sure you wash your hands. We've all done it" cracked my nurse with a roll of her eyes. The boys, of course, loved the idea of the patch with the magic medicine, and I did remember to wash my hands anytime I forgot it was there and scratched whatever itch was close to it. No dilated pupils or CT scans for me.

So I'm a stomach and side sleeper and obviously that isn't going to happen for awhile. Dada and Myron had disassembled our big red recliner and moved it upstairs so I would have a "nest". I've got multiple blankets, a side table for books/drinks/tissues/snacks/phone charger/desk lamp/etc so I'm pretty set for just about anything. Dada even dug out his travel pillow which has helped immensely and I'm about 15-20 paces from our bathroom. I finally learned my lesson last night and quit drinking about two hours before bed so I didn't need to be in there every two and a half hours, haha! Safe to say I've been well hydrated. Plus I have two pillows because I read I'm supposed to be propping my arms up. Lots to remember! I'm sure I'm not getting all of it right, but I seem to be doing really well, so I'm not stressing over it. 

And why these pictures decided to line up in the middle instead of along the left like all the other ones is beyond me, so sorry for those of you with OCD. My apologies.  

Ladies online mentioned a nail apron which costs about $1.50 as an excellent way to make sure you don't yank on your drains. The compression lines you see on my torso are because we've been using an ACE bandage over top of everything so stuff isn't coming loose, tickling too much, getting tugged on, and so forth. It reminds me of the big velcro wrap I was given after I had Damon. I told friends it feels good to put it on, and it feels good to take it off. The lump you see on my right side above the bandages is my port. It was being a butt and not letting the pre-op nurses draw blood from it, which is part of its job but it happens sometimes, so I do have a small bruise on the inside of my left elbow where a very apologetic nurse had to stick me. She was fast and efficient and a small needle stick was not truly one of my worries Monday morning, haha!

Some of you are Star Trek fans, whether you admit it or not, and if you remember the episode where Captain Picard is shown having been assimilated into Locutus of Borg, this next quote will make you laugh. Between my drains and my newly done landscaping I am Noboobus of Borg!

I have been having way more fun with this than anyone else, most likely because people are trying to be sensitive and don't want to be seen as crude, but also because the sooner I embrace my new reality the better I'll adapt. I'd made jokes all last week about my surgery approaching. Monday was my last Monday with boobs. Tuesday was my last day with tatas. Wednesday was my last hump day with humps. Thursday was harder, so I declared it my last happy hour with hooters. Friday was my last flash 'em Friday. Then I thought of Noboobus of Borg and cracked myself up. 

Humor is excellent medicine!

Then a sweet nurse friend advised to be sure I check my back during dressing changes because fluid can build up there as well and patients often don't realize it should be checked, too. Never would have dawned on me. As you can see, my back is in the clear. These were all taken Tuesday!

I have been absolutely floored at how normal I've felt. Everyone has cautioned to not let the pain get ahead of me. I'm thinking I must be doing something wrong because I don't have any! Granted I haven't walked into anything or been hit with anything or fallen onto anything this week, and I think I'm supposed to wait until the drains come out to start with the recommended arm exercises, but I've been slowing reaching farther and lifting light things and am doing really well. Showering with the drains is a bit trickier but there are lots of tips about that online, too. 

I have my follow up appointment all set for next week and I'm really looking forward to having the drains removed. They don't hurt at all, but they are encumbering, and I think psychologically it'll be a big milestone to have them gone. I am not looking forward to the intense itching I hear I will experience as everything heals, but even that is a sign of progress, so I'll take it. Again, I reserve the right to change my mind once it starts happening, haha. I am looking forward to experimenting with my wardrobe and at this point I'm not even talking about what will look good now that I'm flat- I simply mean what I'll be capable of pulling on over my head! This week has been all about the button downs, and I don't have or wear a lot of those so I've been raiding Dada's closet.  

Overall, my mental and emotional state has been one of relief and excitement. I did two biopsies and a port surgery. I'm done with chemo. I survived my bilateral mastectomy. The drains are absorbing decreasing amounts of fluid. I'm not in pain. I'm not thinking about radiation yet and don't have pathology results either to mull over yet. My village is overwhelming me with wonderful food, rides for the kids to their activities, prayers going up on high on our behalf, very gentle hugs, a stack of cards, and enough texts to blow up my phone. Thank you to all of you who have been part of this in any way, whether you are local and in hugging range or across the country and are sending support in other ways. Extra special thanks to my Mommee and Aunt Sherri who have been riding herd on the kids so Dada can focus on taking good care of me. I am so blessed. I know some of you might get sick of hearing it, but I'm telling you it is the absolute truth. I am so blessed.