Happy Update

Getting right to it, Jess' surgery was very successful. Both our surgeons had smiles on their faces as they discussed the case with us. Best of all, the frozen section on the sentinal node biopsy was NEGATIVE!!! After a long day, Jess is now resting comfortably at Mary Birch Hospital for Women. So quiet and peaceful in her private room, she looks absolutely beautiful!
I'll write more in the morning, thank you all so much for your calls, emails, texts, thoughts, and prayers! We've been soaking up all of that energy!

Word of the Day

It's the day before surgery, and there's so little to do. That can be a good thing. I have plenty of time to relax, providing I can find the means. And as my plastic surgeon, the kind Dr. L tells me, all I have to do is not eat after 11 and show up on time.

But lots of times not having anything to do can feel terrible. You know that, right? I'm sure you've felt it before, and I know a lot of you are very frustrated right now that you can't complete some task that can make all of this easier for me. But you are, you know. You're thinking of me, sending me beautiful cards and tiny gifts and flowers that prove beyond a shadow of a doubt how well I'm loved, in case I get to wondering. Even your secret thoughts and prayers, I promise you, I feel them.

Still there is the urge to do.
Margaret and Des have made two delicious soups to freeze and are whipping up dinner as I type. Mark's been on laundry patrol and has set aside some comforting items for me to bring along. I've had one important task today, and it's completed. You've probably noticed that Mark and I are the only people over age 12 that wear friendship bracelets. Even more noticeable, they're in our ubiquitous favorite colors: orange and purple. It started as a constant reminder of our connection when Mark was in residency and on call for some long & lonely nights. Now they're as dear to us as our wedding bands, and to assuage the fact that I have to take mine off for surgery, I've made fresh ones.



The Free Dictionary says the word of the day is amulet (noun) An object worn, especially around the neck, as a charm against evil or injury.

I agree.

This Story

Today is a gorgeous, priceless day in San Diego, and I feel good if a bit sleepy. So this will be just a short post. I do still have a few pre-op errands to run despite spending a king's ransom in pj's yesterday. Also, Des & Margaret are flying in today to help us get through this next step, for which we're so thankful.

For now I'll leave you with this piece I noticed today by one of my favorite artists, Rob Ryan.

Prep

A very difficult part of this is not knowing what to expect. That's a whole different issue than being completely terrified of what's secretly going on in my body, which I'm sure I'll write more about later. I really don't know what to expect from my surgery and recovery. Although I've been tremendously well informed and trust my doctors, I've never been in the hospital before - never had any kind of surgery. I really don't even know, to a certain extent, what kind of help to ask for. The standard answers are that I'll really not have terrible pain post-op, and that I'll be feeling mountains better within days. Most people say that discomfort is the prevailing feeling. I can take that, I know. But because I'm having a double mastectomy and I know how little I realize that I'm constantly using my pecs (which will be very re-arranged during my surgery), I just don't know what all of that will mean as far as daily activities go. Then there's the mental and emotional adjustments that I'll have to make. Because I can only wake up from my first surgery with the first of several steps towards reconstruction (more technical details later for those who like that stuff - Hannah), I have no idea how that will feel. The best I can do on that front, I think, is to be kind to myself and focus on the reason for all of this and the end result - that I will look quite normal soon enough and that I will NOT HAVE cancer.

So, I'm doing the more tangible preparations today. Icky weather or no, I'm out to buy myself some fun, comfy, pj's, submit the all-important post-op prescriptions, buy light bulbs, and a challah from the best bread store in all the land, Charlie's. Yesterday I came home with seven new books to plow through once I'm done with the latest fantastic lend from Margaret. That one, weighing in at 933 pages, is being read like the devil in hopes that I'll finish by Monday. Any wagers?

All Kinds of Not So Fine

I'm not going to pussyfoot around. Chances are if you're here, you already know I have breast cancer. If you didn't know about this blog before, it's no indication of our intimacy - I'm just so shy that the only people that do visit me here found this all by themselves. So I got a little more comfortable with the whole blog-being-read-by-humans idea about a second ago and now I'm going to tell the whole world about what's going on with my breasts. How bizarre.

Over the past couple of weeks (I was diagnosed on February 8th) Mark and I have become slowly aware of how many people love and care for us, and we are daily wowed by one or seven of you at a time. But unfortunately we just can't talk to all of you as often as we'd like. And since things are happening pretty fast at this point, we figured it was time to blog. Feel free to visit, comment, and share with abandon.

One quick thought before I launch in to the latest in my medical adventure. This blog's theme is not changing. It's still about our slow little home, and I'm looking forward to boring you with tales of my orchids, recipes, and wildly executed projects. Cancer is not going to become my story, I've decided. But right now, it's what's happening.

So I have been diagnosed with DCIS, or Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. This means it has started and is now in a duct of my right breast. So far on the testing front I've had a mammogram (which is where this story all began), an MRI, a stereotactic biopsy, and a PET/CT. All of which shows that there are a few lymph nodes that are "questionable" for invasion, but no other malignancies to be found elsewhere in my body. Those questionable readings may be the result of the inflammation caused by my various and fast-paced procedures, or a spreading of cancer to that area. Unfortunately the size of the tumor in my breast makes it a bad candidate for a lump-ectomy. What's warranted is a simple (meaning no muscle involved) mastectomy with sentinel node biopsy and reconstruction. So all of my breast tissue will be removed. Before the tumor comes out, a special dye is injected into that duct, and that dye will then migrate and show the exact lymph that duct drains to, the sentinel node. That will be visually examined and a quick pathology read will be done. If those show no cancer, no other lymph nodes will be removed. If it does show cancer, the rest of the nodes in that group will come out, too. Either way fuller pathology tests will be done on everything, the results of which we'll get a few days out of surgery. So Monday, February 25th at 2 p.m. is my scheduled kickoff. This is a lot to handle and I'm a little nervy. Any positive thoughts and prayers you can send my way will be fully appreciated.

Today we ran around for various pre-op appointments, so we're a bit bushed. But we're off to meet my parents for dinner at Las Olas, so looking forward to the absolute perfect cheese enchilada. It's always the little things.

Back

I'm back from Michigan, where I've been for the last week visiting the Rings. Despite a very nice time with each of them, the modest satisfaction of dealing with a little bit of real winter, and some delicious food, I have to be grateful I'm home. I don't know what put it into my head that I would be fine traveling so far without Mark. Well, I was fine. But there are many kinds of fine and I just really missed my husband. Obviously.



When Katherine asked me near the end of my trip what I was looking forward to about going home, I only thought of him. But really, now that I'm here, I am enjoying a few other San Diego specials:

Socks? I don't think so.

Iced coffee does not seem like something only the town crazy can enjoy.

Final approach. I know a lot of people just really like the weather and the Mexican food and the good looking people of San Diego. But I love my home town. I love all it's little parts like it's an old old friend. Whenever I land at Lindbergh, I greet everything I can see on my way in. Hello Barret Lake. Hello Sweetwater Resevoir. Hello Mt. Hope. Hello east east Market Street. Hello Balboa Park (hi botanical garden, hi museum of man, hi laurel street bridge), Hello Mr. A's Port Authority Casbah Airport Parking Star of India Spanish Landing. Hello MCRD. I'm home.

Southern . West Coast . Yankee

I get a little identity crisis sometimes when I cook, and New Year's Day is always a trigger. My mother is a true southern lady. And though she's spent most of her life now in California, her food roots are seriously southern. I like the way the south eats. The south grows it's own meals, shares and trades with neighbors, and uses everything. This locavore thing that Mark and I are so inspired by is actually the way by grandparents have eaten their entire lives. The last time I visited them in the Arkansas Ozarks, I helped harvest peanuts, brought extra corn and green beans while out "visiting," and returned to find freshly caught fish left on the doorstep by a neighbor. I loved this.

But I'm a Californian. Here, fish on your doorstep sounds like some antiquated insult. Also there's my appetite. I don't like meat and I can't really pack it in, so there is usually a day in the south that I have to just spend in bed, resting from the eating. Hiding under the covers from the lard and the bacon, though it's oh so delicious.

One southern tradition that my family keeps is eating Hoppin' John on New Year's Day for good luck. This is basically a pot of seasoned black eyed peas, and it's delicious in a uniquely familiar way. It's the seasoning that trips up my usually smooth cultural combo. Gourmet magazine is all southern this month and in their Hoppin' John recipe, they call for a "meaty ham hock." For a variety of reasons, that's just not going to happen in my kitchen. So of course, I call my momma. She usually uses bacon to flavor her peas. And she says, "why not try a couple of slices of Smart Bacon?" It's The soy staple in my home. Well, it's available. A southern woman is nothing if not practical (even Scarlett made a dress out of what was laying around), so I give it a go.

I remember spending hours sorting peas & beans with my mother as a tiny girl. You never new what you were going to find in a bag of peas, and I always decided on the funkiest find at the end. Things are not so exciting these days, but I picked them over nonetheless. The funkiest find was kind of boring - a shrunken head version of a black eyed pea. Then they got a quick rinse. Into the pot with plenty of water, more to be added later as needed. Then ever so tentatively, I slipped in two slices of wiggly "facon" and started the simmer.

My mother had a few other cryptic tips. Don't add the salt until the peas start to become tender, maybe an hour in. And then, salt & pepper until the broth tastes just too salty. The peas will then taste just right. And you know what? They did. Along with fresh beer biscuits, the meal made me feel very lucky indeed.