Anniversaries

Thirty (yes, 30) years ago today, I gave birth for the last time.  We now have 4 children in their 30’s.  5 years ago yesterday, Hollis and I returned from our cruise to Alaska.  On Wednesday our newest granddaughter will be 3 months old.

One year ago today I had the mammogram that started my breast cancer journey.  There will be several anniversaries for me in the next few weeks that I am struggling with just a bit.  I am in the middle of a 9 week workshop for breast cancer survivors that has been really interesting.  Though I am very close to lots of people, I guess I am a pretty independent person.  I always assume that whatever I am going through, my thoughts and feelings about it are uniquely mine.  I truly couldn’t tell you why I signed up for this workshop but it has proven to show, first and foremost, that I am not even a little bit unique.  It is faith based so it has driven home quite deeply that I am also never, ever alone in these thoughts and feelings that I have been experiencing.  My faith has not been tested by this journey at all but it has been wonderful to be reminded that I am created in God’s image and that He will not desert me in any trial. 

The idea behind this workshop is that once treatment is over and the body is healed, it doesn’t mean the survivor is whole again.  Cancer fundamentally changes you in ways you don’t see coming.  While recurrence for me is unlikely, I don’t plan to be caught by surprise again.  This means that while Hollis, the boys and their families think this chapter is completely closed, I’m on guard for it to be reopened.  I’ll see an oncologist every six months for a long time to be on guard for any return.  My basic trust in my body to be healthy is shaken.  My scars are a whole other set of issues.  I’m getting better about them but, well, they’re still jarring at times.

Now to be sure, I do not lay awake at night worrying about a recurrence.  It’s more a passing thought.  But the thought passes every single day.  Sometimes more than once a day.  There are other ways my body has changed.  I have (and really hate) hot flashes!  I tell people they are from the devil.  They laugh; I’m not being funny.  They are ridiculously bothersome so I take non-hormonal meds to minimize them but they are not gone.  There’s a chance they never will be.  Did I mention I really despise them?  Mine emanate from my core and spread outward in a most unpleasant sensation day or night.  It’s been a really hot summer here and that has made things even more of a challenge.  Let’s change the subject before I have a hot flash. . .

Though the scars are extensive, I do have to say that I am ridiculously blessed to have them.  This fact also contributes to feeling like it’s not over.  Even though in my shallow moments I feel mutilated, I know that I am crazy lucky to live in a time when the treatment available to me is so incredibly amazing.  As I meet more survivors and hear their stories, I am reminded regularly that for no good reason I can explain, I landed in front of a really good general surgeon who didn’t just tell me what we were going to do.  He gave me a list of treatment and surgical options.  He gave me a list of plastic surgeons and told me that PRMA was a group that did really good work.  He gave me a list of oncologists and told me that he had worked well with several of them.  He didn’t presume to make any decisions for me.  I’m finding out that not everyone has that experience and it makes me really angry!  I’m looking for my advocacy voice and it might be in this area.  Any one facing the awfulness of breast cancer should know ALL of their options!  There is something about going through this experience that calls you to help others facing it.  I don’t yet know how this will manifest itself in my life but I sure feel the need to help somehow, some way.

When I was about finished with my plastic surgery treatment, I made a video testimonial for PRMA back in May; it was just recently posted to their website and several social media forums.  I even posted it to my Facebook page, too.  It was edited pretty substantially but I like the result.  When I think about Dr. Pisano, his nurse Kathleen and the PRMA team, I am really, deeply thankful that they exist.  The reconstruction I had is called “DIEP Flap” and it is considered to be the gold standard in breast reconstruction.

There are also so many “ifs”.  If I had chosen implants instead of transplanted tummy tissue, I’d probably need to have them redone in 10 years or so; that would be at my expense.  If I had gone to a different general surgeon, I might not have been given options.  I don’t even want to talk about the “if” of skipping my mammogram last year.  So as I face these anniversaries, I am thankful to be aware of the “ifs”.  September 25^th is the anniversary of the horrible biopsy experience.  September 26^th is when I got the call from my OB/GYN.  I will never forget her words.  I’d had a biopsy 5 years ago that was negative for cancer.  When she called last year she said “Well, we weren’t so lucky this time.  They found cancer in both biopsy samples.”  We sat on the news for a while so that we could get more information before telling the boys and extended family and friends.  I was fearful like I’d never been before; I was threatened like never before.

 

All those feelings are coming back as I face the anniversaries but there’s been a bright spot.  The Patient Liaison at PRMA asked me two weeks ago if I would be available in the evening on October 25^th.  “Sure,” I said.  “That happens to be the one year anniversary of my big surgery.”  “I know!” she said.  “We would like to invite you to be our honoree at the annual Bras for a Cause Gala that night.”  This Gala is a fundraiser for a group called Pink Warrior Angels.  Businesses in the area decorate a bra; really bling it out.  At the Gala, New Braunfels Fire Fighters model the bras and they are auctioned off.  Tickets sell out!!  Quickly!  Hollis and I will be their guests and hopefully some family and friends will be able to attend as well.  I had no idea such a great thing could happen to me on the anniversary of the hardest day I’ve ever had in my life.  My friends took me gala dress shopping last weekend and we had a blast!  I picked out and brought home the most amazing dress!  There will be photos for sure and I know we will have a wonderful evening.  How did I get this lucky again?  I wonder if I will ever get used to using the word lucky in conjunction with getting a life threatening, body mutilating, brain altering disease.  

Please keep me in your prayers over the next few weeks.  Pray that I feel grateful and not threatened.  That I remember being skillfully treated with top notch medical people and not remember being in pain.  That I remember being tenderly, carefully cared for by many people and not worry that my body and mind are all so different now.  That I remember I am now physically healed with little chance of recurrence and to not worry that this awful, unfair disease won’t be zero risk until I am dead.  So many of you prayed for my healing last year and I appreciated every one of them.  If you’d remember me one more time, I would be thankful for that as well.

The Close of a Chapter

It's time to wrap up this chapter of my life.  At least I hope it's over.  On Friday I went for my final visit with my plastic surgeon, Dr. Steven Pisano.  He says I have had a really great outcome.  I mostly agree.  My new breasts have a lovely shape and feel very natural.  My belly is nothing short of amazing!  I'm a little surprised by how willing I am to show my scars to about anyone who expresses an interest in seeing them.  My modesty is on vacay. 

Dr. Pisano, me, Nurse Kathleen

Graduation from PRMA

   Like everything in life the good and bad are mixed and there is lots more good than bad.  I would never have chosen this adventure but I have to acknowledge a few things.  First and foremost, Hollis.  I have loved this man since I was 18 years old or about 2/3 of my life.  We have been blessed with a seriously above average marriage and we take time often to be thankful for that and for each other but this took everything to a new level.  Hollis tends to get aggravated with me if I get a bruise or skin my knee.  He tells me often "be careful!" I have had a passing thought through the years that if something big (like maybe breast cancer) happened that he would be just plain mad.  In his way, I guess he was but he never showed it to me.  From taking me for my nightmare biopsies to standing behind me with every decision I had to make, he was great.  Then there was the surgery.  I think he's had two of the worst days of his life during this adventure.  The first was probably my big surgery day that dragged on so much longer than any of us expected and the second was likely watching me be wheeled into the emergency surgery 5 weeks later with my infection.  You would have to ask him to be sure.  I was told before big surgery that I would need full time care for at least two weeks afterwards.  I knew he needed to get back to work during the day and my wonderful friends and awesome sister all agreed to make that happen.  He came home from work each day and bathed me.  He installed a hand held shower head in our front bathroom before I got home from the hospital to make this a bit easier.  He lovingly undressed, washed, dried and dressed me when I could not do it myself and then brought me pain pills because it was painful and exhausting to get clean.  He emptied my surgical drains and carefully recorded the output so we would know when they could be removed.  Through it all, there was not one whine or complaint (from him, of course).  Even though we have loved each other for nearly 40 years, you just dont' know until you get here how it will go.  There's no way to know.  I have never felt so deeply loved, treasured and cared for in my life.  It's a crazy sentence to write because I have never doubted that he loves me.  Ever.  But this took "us" to a depth of commitment I could not have imagined. I totally love that guy!

   Next there are the people who rallied to take care of me.  I think if you ask any of them they will tell you it was just a few hours out of their lives and that they love me enough to help where I needed it but it affected me much more deeply than I can ever express.  My sister has a reputation for cleaning and organizing.  It's not just her "thing," she's got a deep genetic ability in this area.  She was quite stressed about my diagnosis and coming to take care of me was what she wanted to do.  She came through the door saying "I'm more of a maid than a nurse.  Don't hesitate to tell me what you need but between times, I'll be cleaning."  It was great!  When you live in a house for 25 years, you don't always see stuff.  Kathy saw and cleaned so much stuff!  There is also nothing like heavy post surgical drugs to take the edge off your guilt about the stuff she's cleaning - if you know what I mean.

   Not far behind her is my cadre of dear friends who put together a care calendar and made sure that when H got home at the end of the day, dinner was arranged and I was still kicking.  These ladies walked the pasture with me for exercise, brought handwork to pass the time when I was sleeping and they didn't mind when I whined and complained.  I owe each of them a debt I doubt I can every repay and I love them so much for getting me through this.  Quilting brought most of us together but our friendship is much deeper than that now.

   Gotta love a college roommate who came and stayed for 3 days when the first two weeks was over and I still wasn't ready to be home alone.  Lori and I have known each other for just a few months longer than Hollis and I have.  In fact, she introduced us.  It was miraculous that she had time to help and her cleaning skills are up there with Kathy's.  More love coming my way!

   Then there is Harris!  That guy really shined through this as well.  His efforts were more in the background.  He fostered my cats at his house so they wouldn't be in the way or try to jump on my chest.  He basically took over care of the chickens and came over most afternoons to relieve whomever was caring for me so they didn't have to fight traffic to get home.  He was there for his dad and for me and we both appreciate it.  Desi was my taxi when I needed one and Clayton and Courtney brought the kids by to keep me smiling and looking forward.  I'll never forget Cayden saying "Omi, you got owies?"  Yes, baby, Omi gots owies.  They're gone now and we can play.

   That's an overview of the heavy hitters.  In addition to that, people from church brought me communion and visited me in the hospital.  Other friends and extra kids brought food and snacks and offered to be available if I needed them.  I was covered in every way I could imagine and in ways I never thought I'd need to be.

   Here is how things look going forward.  I will see my oncologist every six months for at least 5 years.  I really like her and she has a great reputation for both her expertise and her patient care.  I feel like those who love me believe this adventure is over and statistically, they're all probably right but I was shocked by this diagnosis.  I don't plan to be caught off guard again.  It doesn't keep me awake nights but I am on guard.  Dr. Pisano says that's pretty normal.  He told me to make sure being on guard doesn't steal any of my joy.  I don't think it will.  I just don't want to be surprised again.  

Lastly, I have signed up to be a patient advocate at the plastic surgeons office.  I don’t know if telling my story will be helpful but I made a video testimonial at the office a few weeks ago.  They will post it on their social media in July and I’ll put up a link to it.  Never hesitate to ask me how I’m doing.  I’m thrilled to say over and over how blessed I am to be healed and how thankful I am to be so loved.  We get a new grandbaby in a few days.  Life is good.  The future is pretty bright.