MRI Results

Wednesday morning, Dr. So swept into the room we were waiting in, big smile spreading his chubby cheeks, and said, "Great news!"

He handed the radiology report to Mark to read for himself, but he developed a sudden, very damp, optical condition. Strangely, the same thing happened to me, so Dr. So read out this beautiful stanza himself:

"Status post bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction, no MRI evidence for malignancy."

With the added treat of " . . . essentially no parenchyma [that's breast tissue] identified," that means that there's essentially no place for any new breast cancer to grow.

I don't know that I can put into words what this means to us yet. Even though all of my doctors suspected this was my outcome, I never really felt safe until now. I had a nice chance to talk to Dr. So about this, and he totally understood. I was spending so much time trying not to let this suspicion and unease drive me crazy. I don't have to do that anymore. I don't have to lay awake at night, charting my lymphs. As Mark pointed out, I can pop in a Jane Austen movie, or read my favorite Kipling or Hemingway, not because I'm semi-desperately needing to be soothed at night, but just because I feel like Austen or Kipling or Hemingway.

It means a lot, in essence. I'll work on figuring it all out, in between dancing, giggling, and smooching Mark, in my uncancery future.

Almost There

So the MRI is on Monday, and I just want it to be over. Looking forward to this test has been really reminding me of this period of testing last year, which was arguably the worst in this whole process. It's been a challenge to stay in the present and remember that my situation now is very different than it was a year ago. I don't want to waste this weekend, but I really would like it to be Monday, with me inside that clanging, banging machine, getting things done.

Things have been pretty happy and lighthearted around here, however. On Thursday I had my pre-scan labs done, and since Mark was almost done with a very light day at the hospital, he came over and met me with snacks. Still in his white coat, stethoscope and all, I had to laugh as he walked back with me. I told the phlebotomist that I hoped she didn't mind me bringing my own physician. To which Mark added, "I don't even know her that well."
He then proceeded to his chief occupation during blood draws; distraction. He swung the pastry he'd brought me from side as he said, "Looook into the danish . . ."
Which may well have knocked me out, if the danish hadn't been cherry, and reminiscent of, um, what was coming out of my arm.

We finished off the week with turkey stew, a lovely lunch with a new friend, a clean house, a lovely visit with old friends, and all the lilacs Che Bella had.

The Nap Was Fantastic

And if you know me well you'll know that I'm an authority on naps.

My appointment was fine. He did a little prodding (all good) and set up my MRI for later this month, the 20th, I think (it's in my planner, not my brain. That's how I work.) So that will be good. I think getting IV contrast MRIs for the rest of my life will maybe get me over my abhorrence of IVs. That would be nice. And I do really well at things that require no movement, so the test should go well. Dr. So told us he'd call us when he got the results, but I think we'll schedule an appointment with him anyway.

That's another thing. Visiting the oncologist while you're trying to beat up cancer is very different from visiting the oncologist after you've supposedly beaten up cancer, and I haven't quite figured out the latter yet. At the beginning, for me anyway, fast and decisive is good. I really wanted action. Now that I've got a little more time, I'm wanting . . . meticulousness. On a level that some would find annoying, I want to be sooo examined. Sometimes I still don't understand why I'm so assuredly healthy, and I'd like to work on that. And it would be great if it didn't always have to be Mark that reminds me patiently why sentinel node biopsies work so well. I'm hoping to not resort to that piece of information as the new tattoo I joked about to disguise my radiation markers. Also, it's not really fun to lay awake at night and try to feel every discernible lymph node for 'normality.' Because there are hundreds.

Luckily, Dr. So understands this. He praises my vigilance but also knows that it can make a person a bit nutty. He also encourages vacation. If only there were a country that heartily embraced naps . . .

Back to Dr. So

Oh, it's been a while. I haven't seen Dr. So, apart from a friendly parking lot run-in, since May, after my last radiation treatment. Tomorrow's the day we resume our tumultuous acquaintance. I'm not sure our visit will go beyond the usual armpit poke and a little more scheduling, but we'll see. Surprises abound and all that. Mainly I just need to make sure my follow-up imaging is on-track. Hopefully all of my surgery inflammation will have calmed down enough to make it MRI time. And while I still hate IVs and the clanging is no fun, the situation of my not having any conclusive evidence of health makes me really eager for this. But all of my memory of these visits being so negative. . . yeah. I'm struggling to not go back to the scary/sad places. So far I'm mostly winning, and I think one clean MRI would do me a world of good. Wish me luck, kids. And a glorious nap in the afternoon - I'll need them both.

I Guess This Is My Holiday Letter

Or really, it's far more informative than any holiday letter I'd send. And I never sent any holiday letters anyway. Interesting. So while this has been a pretty crap year for me, it's been a year of unprecedented Jess access for you! Is that a good thing? Well. As much as I'm pining for '09 I've got a little more to fill you in on before it's over. And one more apology for not posting in so long. Oops.

Two weeks ago I had a set of very opposite doctors' appointments. The first was my dermy, Dr. Ld. That awesome acne that I've had since May or June is still hanging around despite one antibiotic and a slew of topicals. Lucky for me it's winter now and I don't have to debate too long before dressing. Anyway I thought I'd give dermy another shot at making me less uncomfortable. Not so much luck. I encountered that oh so familiar frustration with dermatology. Lots of shrugging by Dr. Ld. Sympathetic shrugging, and the suggestion that things would probably settle down in time. I did get a jar of goo that's so strong my face was peeling 5 days after I stopped using it. Yow. And he did offer to do some hormone testing, blood tests, that would basically just confirm that I'm out of whack right now without offering much treatment suggestion. So after I said no, thank you, we shook hands and agreed to meet again in February. He left, and I burst into tears. Ridculous. I am scared of poking around too much, terrified of more abnormal test results, even if it's just wacky hormones that I already knew about.

That said, I will do the test in February if I'm still looking like a teenager in the worst way.

My second appointment was with my radiation Oncologyst, Dr. W. He's in the same place I had my radiation treatments. As I was waiting for him, I got to see some of my favorite of his staff. And then a woman came out from the treatment area and said to the front office girls, "I don't know what I ever did with myself without you guys!" I think she was only about 10% kiding. Dr. W was lovely as usual. He did a full exam and then told me to call if anything came up, that he'd always be available, but that he didn't expect to see me in his office again. "WHAT?" I said. "This is my last appointment?!" And he said, "Yep. Happy Hanukkah!"

After he left the office I did a Snoopy dance.
----

Remember that new baby in the family? Last week we went up to see her and her new biggest fans, Mom, Dad, Big Sister, & Grandparents. Think she was very cute?

Oh, just a little bit. Everyone else looked marvelous as well. Except Zara is 3, so she moves a little fast for me to prove it with my camera.

A rare non-blurry snap. We did have a great early Hanukkah, thanks to our crack latke team.

We took several beautiful jaunts to Sonoma, Occidental, and Freestone.




Holiday plans for us are: Hanukkah every night at home, Christmas Eve with my parents and Christmas Day there for me while Mark tends the people at work. We have small plans for New Years Eve, and I'll try to grab a few photos of it all. If I'm not in touch as much as I'd like, I wish you the happiest holidays and a wonderful, healthy New Year.

Pardon My Sneezes

I have been down with a flu for a bit, so it's been very quiet, sleepy, and sneezy around here. Mark was home to tend to me a bit, but it was a sad use of his week off. We did enjoy several good films and a record amount of beautiful sunsets.


Later in the week we made it out to Quail Botanical Gardens and had such a treat in the bursting citrus garden. I took lots of notes and am looking forward to Pink Lemonade lemons and Algerian Mandarins in my future.

Later this week I'll be starting physical therapy. I'm really looking forward to getting back to something like my usual strength after 9 months of pain and inactivity. At the same time, I'm a little nervous about confronting the exact size of the hill I have to climb. At any rate, it should be an interesting week.

Oh, it's also the last week to donate to the girls walking the Three Day in my name. They start their long long walk on Friday. Jenny and Erica are doing great, but Kelley still has a ways to go. If you've come across any lose change, please help her reach her goal, HERE. As a little bonus, Kelley's got possibly the silliest picture of me on her fund-raising page.

Or We Could Just End This Crap Once and for All

A little while back I wrote about how important it is to be aware, of our bodies, our options, and breast cancer as a whole. But wouldn't you rather not? Don't you wish breast cancer was a little more like, say, polio? A disease with which our kids are going to have absolutely no association, no mental image, save maybe a vague impression that it's probably not good?

Every year we learn more and more about breast cancer, but it's not happening fast enough, and we can change that.

This year I have been blessed by many great friends who helped me get through this. With meals, movies, open ears and lots of laughs, you guys have saved me in many ways. My doctors, my husband, family, and myself, we're the reason I'm alive. But you guys, my friends, are the reason I'm still me. And you're not done helping! Two of my girlfriends are participating in their first Breast Cancer 3 Day, a challenging trek to fund a cure for breast cancer, on November 21-23. I hope to be able to join them with even more friends next year. But in the mean time, please check out their pages and consider donating. No amount is too small, and if you were considering any kind of holiday gift to me this year, a donation will absolutely suffice.

Here's Jenny's page, and here's Kelley's.
***Update: Since Jenny's pretty much at her goal, she'd like to ask that you donate through her team-mate, Erica, any funds that you'd normally donate through her.

And, since my dad is AWESOME, he has rustled up an incredible prize to the first to donate $500 or more.

A ride in a completely restored 1943 Stinson Bi-plane over the Temecula wine country. An amazing airplane flown out of Fallbrook, CA, by an amazing pilot, and just in time to prove to your friends on the East Coast that we do get fall color. If you want to win this, donate, then leave me a comment letting me know you have and giving me the name under which you donated and to whom. I'll verify your donation with the appropriate walker and if you're first, get you your prize. Good luck!

For those of you who just cant spare the coin, don't worry. In the future I'll be posting ways you can help without spending a penny, as well as a totally free giveaway.

Where Am I?

Hi kids. I'm here. I'm fine. I've been just a bit busy and Mark is off this week, which I'm just realizing usually translates to much less computer time for me. I'm actually okay with that overall, as it also means I'm having more fun than usual. But I do have lots to catch you all up on. Lots of pictures to share. But not today. Mark's parents are here and I just have a sec before I join up with them for a lovely day on the coast. If you're curious about how my little body is doing, here's the latest:
* I scaled a cliff last week, with the help of stairs, but it was the most work I'd done since the last surgery and was actually slightly easier that I'd expected.
* I saw Dr. Ls on Thursday and that went well. He's happy with how mobile everything is staying. If you have questions about why this is a good thing, fire away. I've been downgraded from crazy amounts of gauze and scissor work every morning and can just wear a bra now. Huge step forward for productivity. The only thing I'm keeping an eye on is a big fat suture that's trying to come out and visit (it's supposed to be an innie). That's nothing to worry about and pretty common. I just have to keep it clean and such.

Okay, as I say, pictures soon. Be well everyone, and VOTE ON TUESDAY!

Awareness

So I finally got around to watching the Christina Applegate episode of Oprah which aired right before my surgery. I feel really good about what she's doing to increase awareness of breast cancer, even when you can see it's still really scary and painful for her. It also made me feel really good about how open I've tried to be here. I know an amazing woman who fought her own battle against breast cancer years ago, but I only found out about it by telling her about my diagnosis. She never told anyone, and I respect her choice. Maybe it would be exactly the same if she had to make it today. But I hope that my peers and future generations will know that they can choose to be as open as they like about breast cancer. That there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what happens to their boobies. I know for me it's been essential to talk about what's happening to me, and I know I'd not be as healthy as I am today if I'd had to keep quieter.

So in that spirit, I'd like to share a little more. One of Ms. Applegate's comments that struck me the most was that she didn't really know at the beginning what a reconstructed breast looked like. I was exactly as ignorant when I started thinking about my choices and it really helped me to know what to expect. I'm most likely not going to be showing you my boobs, but take a look at some of my surgeon's beautiful work here. Gathering information can be so empowering, and I think a lot of women are afraid of breast cancer without really knowing what it could mean for them. I'm not saying breast cancer isn't scary. It is so important to do self-examinations at the same time each month, talk to your doctor and get the screening you feel you need, even if that means going around your doctor like I had to. Survive, first and foremost, but don't let fear of unknowns tax whatever health you have.

Also, please feel free to share my blog to your heart's content. The more women are aware of their bodies and thinking proactively about their health, the more will survive. I don't aspire to write a compendium of the newest in cancer care and prevention; it's still just going to be me here. But I survived because I was aware of the dangers I faced and how to catch them. Let's help spread that awareness so that more women can say the same.

The Healing

Well it's been a very busy week here at our slow little home, though you wouldn't always know it. Mark's been back at work since Monday and that's been mostly okay. All of my busy-ness is going on internally, and I have to remind myself of what my body is doing for me right now to explain the sleepyness. Tuesday we went in to Dr. L's office to have him look at everything and remove all my dressings & staples. The visit went great with mostly everyone really happy. I say mostly because it's hard for me to get excited about something that's still evolving. Like I said before, I'm thrilled with the roundness going on, particularly in my upper chest where things have been so holllow since February. As for the details of the breasts (areolae & nipples), they're still healing, so they're not so pretty right now. And since things will get smaller as time passes, the nipples have to start out 50% bigger than we'd like them. It's . . . interesting right now. I think I'm taking smaller than usual steps due to the groin tightness that's still better every day. And I'm not driving yet. But I'm closer than ever to feeling pretty average and thinking a lot about the celebrating that's coming.

Still Groggy

Hi my friends. I can't say I'm the sharpest of tacks right now but I wanted to say hello. It was so wonderful getting home to so many nice messages from all of you. Since then there's been a lot of sleeping and most everything has continued to improve. Last night was not the best, but when I woke up at 10 realizing that I hadn't had pain medicine in 6 hours and was feeling okay, I was so happy. This afternoon I went in to have my big dressing removed and that went quite well. I saw my favorite nurse, Katie, and honestly didn't check myself out too much. I'm not in love with the staples/skin combination, but the general area looks great, with lots of roundness & no bruising that I could see. The roundness and a little movement are things that I'm really happy with already in contrast to the tissue expander body I had. My groin has really been the most painful thing but I'm getting more comfortable there and moving around much better.

Bumps

Yesterday we met with Dr. Ld to make sure my skin was heading in the right direction. While we were waiting for him, I noticed a few red patches on the inside of my elbows and wrists. He came in and agreed that my body breakouts looked much better. Then I showed him the new spots and there was some brow furrowing. Hard to say exactly what it was, but it looked like I may be having a reaction to the Septra I was taking for the original skin problem. We were instructed to keep an eye on it, not continue the Septra if it worsened, and keep planning on surgery.
As the day went on the red spots faded almost all the way away and I didn't think much of it. We had a lot of chores to take care of and Mark was hitting the wall after working two overnights. I took my p.m. Septra and got busy again. Maybe an hour later I was heading into the shower and that's when I saw them. Many more bumps. On my neck, under my arm. Then big welts along my waistband, on my hips and legs. Itchyness ensued.
I spent a really restless night and things had changed very little in the morning. Less puffiness overall, but certainly not normal skin with new bumps on my forehead. Time for the Benadryl and phone calls. I took the Benadryl and tried to sleep a little while wonderful Mark handled getting ahold of the docs. Surprisingly (to me) both my surgeon and dermatologist feel that it's ok to proceed with surgery as planned. We'll be keeping a close eye on everything, of course. But as drug reactions go, this is not actually so bad. The real kicker is that instead of going to Rosh Hashanah services and lunch with our good friends Sydney and Cynthia, Mark is sleeping off a stressful night and morning and I'm chained to a tube of $40 ointment. Still itchy.

3, 2, 1

The countdown to surgery is well under way, so I thought I'd post an update. I've found it a little harder to get happy about this surgery, mainly because it's not saving my life this time. But last week I turned a corner and I'm ready to go.

Mark has been increasingly sweet in talking about how he'll take care of me. He's even managed to stay away from the tapioca pudding I socked away for myself last week. I realize tapioca is a divisive issue, but trust that it's been a challenge for him. We're also hooked up with a few more gadgets than last time. Mainly this bad boy:


and a lovely LED reading light. Yes, there is also a little stack of books waiting for me. Good ones, I'm assured. But I'm a little sad because I've already started the best book I've read in ages. Out Stealing Horses by Per Pettersen is simply amazing. What he does with language is so fresh it feels like reading Hemingway for the first time. Familiar and completely unique. Luckily, I know I'll be able to read it over and over again.

Also on the readiness checklist we have a lot of homemade vegetarian chili in the freezer for me, arroz con pollo and turkey noodle soup for Mark, a happy ok from my surgeon, stretchy pants, a lot of medication, and a crazy shower routine. A while ago I started having some fun high school flashbacks - body acne. So to keep this stuff in check on the off chance that it could cause a real infection from spreading through surgery (cultures are normal) I'm taking an oral antibiotic, washing with a prescription strength benzol peroxide wash AND a sterile surgical prep wash, and smearing antibiotic ointment inside my nose. It's crazy, but I'm good at spending time in the shower. Just ask my dad, who probably spent years of his life waiting for me to finish my turn. Oh, that's also the reason for my new doctor on the list, the lovely Dermy. I'll see him just once more before surgery, on Monday, to make sure he still thinks I don't have anything that would cause a complication.

A huge part of my being ready now is the massage therapist I met last week. She had me so relaxed and energized after 50 minutes and really helped me to think positively about my body again. Somehow I'd lost that lately. Watching the Beijing Olympics this year I'd think, "The human body is freaking amazing. Not mine, but THE human body." This week I realized how much my body has been through; how much pain it can take and get rid of, how it can get knocked down to weakness and built up strength again. I realized my body is freaking amazing.

On Health

It's a wacky, mixed-up life when the part of your body that's been "impaired" for over 14 years suddenly becomes a source of delight and pride.

Yesterday I went to get the eye exam that I'd been putting off since January because of more, ahem, pressing matters. I wasn't dreading it, but it did give me that odd (new to me) Dr's office palm sweats. I felt compelled to mention my cancer on my little info sheet. It does fall under the "any other medical issues" heading, I think.

I sat for the preliminary tests (will someone please invent a new way to test for glaucoma? One that doesn't involve shooting air at eyeballs? Thanks). Then I got comfortable in the dimmed exam room. A flew minutes of "better or worse," a few very bright lights, and I was hearing some interesting murmurings. Words like "healthy," "strong," and "very little change."

You can't imagine how excited I as. I felt ten feet tall. I clapped my hands like a pony just showed up at my 6th birthday party. Wait, I already had a pony then (don't hate me). Like Seamore the Sea Lion showed up! So I'm thinking. If I go for an eye exam, say, every 6 months, will that positive medical reinforcement help me believe I'm healthy or automatically put me in a new crazy category?

Okay, I'll just keep it in the positive memory bank. Which will be easy once I download and print this free poster from Poppytalk.