Removal of my purple Lego (Portacath Removal)

     Here I sit in the hospital again. Unscheduled. AND I missed school! GRRR!

So my port got infected. Who knows how! It happens to all surgeons eventually, but it hadn't happened to one of my surgeon's patients in so long, she was super disappointed. I tried to reassure her - "Hey, if it's going to happen to someone, it might as well happen to your most positive patient, right?!" I got her to agree, but not cheer up. :( Just to be clear, while blood infections are somewhat common, pocket infections like mine are extremely rare (like 5%), and they don't always know why they occur.

     Anyway, as I had previously posted, my port placement went really, really well. So almost a week later when it started appearing irritated and causing me pain, I was surprised. It just kept getting worse. I saw the plastic surgeon on Tuesday to get my expanders filled - but there was no way they were going near the site of my port with a needle. He took a picture and sent it right over to Dr. T. We were in touch with her office, with a list of symptoms to watch for as I headed home with a prescription for antibiotics. 

     On Thursday I had my Nadir appointment (to check how my body responded to the chemo, it's the low point of my immune system), and Dr. C - my oncologist's partner - examined it and said the same things: we don't know if it's an infection, it sure looks irritated, watch for any sign of fever, etc. 

     I found myself popping more and more pain pills, and getting less and less sleep. By Sunday evening we were pretty certain there was a problem, but since I still wasn't running any fevers, we knew I could wait until Monday morning to contact the Doc. This proved harder (and easier) than I had thought - I could not sleep due to the pain I was in, and finally, FINALLY crashed around 7 in the morning with plans to wake up and call Doctor T's office at 9. 

From Friday night to Monday morning

     I'm so glad that the nurse called and woke me up to check on how I was doing at 9:30! I told her (groggily) that things were definitely worse. She gave me a phone number to text a picture to Dr. T, who was in surgery all day. During class, I received phone calls from both the nurse and the hospital to schedule surgery to remove the port, and by 5:00 we were at the hospital. It turns out it was a good thing I got a late start to my day because I hadn't had lunch, and they were able to put me under anesthesia by 6:00 to remove it. Last night was a bit rough as they pumped me with IV antibiotics and the pain subsided through the night, but I'm feeling a LOT better all ready. Dr. T will come by in a couple of hours to repack my site, and hopefully I'll be home in time for class tonight! I found this really awesome site for more information about these kinds of infections - http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK7008/

Notice how much less irritated my
skin is about 20 hours after surgery.

Dr. T. changing my wound dressing. 

    It's been a few more days since I wrote this. We have to re-pack my wound every day, and it hurts! Things have been going a little better, although my body finally let me know it needed some serious rest today. I am going to bed early. I delayed my post so I could add some more pics from the hospital. Thanks to my mom for using a dry-erase marker... I am STILL wearing the lines!

Dr. Tittensor and I sans beauty supplies. She humored me despite a LONG day of surgery. :)

     My brother-in-law came to visit me the morning after my surgery. He works in the hospital, so he stopped in after change of shift. He's been going through some tough times. Poor guy ended up with a lecture from me. I can't help but feel like the conversation was engineered by grand design. So, to Craig - if all of the pain from the infection and surgery were designed so that we could talk: IT WAS WORTH IT. YOU are worth it. Don't give up on yourself. You are stronger than you think, but it has to be YOUR choice. 

     There I go, lecturing again. I just love him, and want him to be happy. Life doesn't always turn out the way we think it will, but there is a point to all of it. Yes, life hurts. Yes, sometimes it feels like we have been betrayed when God takes us on a path that will refine us. Don't lose track of the big picture! Mortality can blind us! I've been promised that if I will read the scriptures, I will be able to see the big picture and keep it in mind. It makes a world of difference in how I handle trials. I pray that Craig will be able to find the healing he so desperately needs. His wounds are deep, but the atonement is deeper. There's a reason Christ is referred to as the master physician.
    

Portacath, First Chemo treatment

Bard Power Port
My purple Lego

     "How are your veins?" I hate this question! My veins are a combination of responses! They can be great. I can be an easy stick. My veins can also roll, They tend to be shallow. They infiltrate. They hold firm. They bruise. They get irritated. So when the oncologist  asked with reference toward my impending chemo, I was grateful for my husband's presence. He had no problem telling the Doctor that my veins have given me a lot of trouble at times, but not always. Dr. R. reviewed my chart, and stated "Well, you've had a double mastectomy, and most of the time when we deal with those, we usually recommend a port anyway. How would you feel about a port?" No digging for my veins? No risk of infiltration (when the medicine ends up in your arm instead of in your vein)? "Sign me up!"
     When I spoke with my General Surgeon again, she showed me the port that would be placed under my skin, and explained a little about the procedure. "What kind of recovery will I be looking at?" I asked. "Nothing compared to what you've already been through!" She happily replied. But I was like, "What?! It can be in the same sentence, though?!" Yikes. I have class the week of my port placement. I want to go to class. I need to go to class. We went home from that appointment, and a week or so passed. My husband's mom contacted me inquiring about the port placement. "Are you sure you want to get it the day before you start chemotherapy? My niece's port has been painful and uncomfortable. She says it's taken days to ignore the pain from it..."

See those cool palpation points? That makes the port like a lego brick.
Yup. I have a purple Lego under my skin.

     Yikes. I thought this was no big deal! Like, it's just a catheter like an IV being place inside your body with this little triangle, no biggie, right? So I got online on the cancer forums and started reading about port placements. SIGH. GROAN. I read about horror story after horror story. Most people get their port at the same time as another procedure, so they don't know how much pain was due to the one or the other. Many are on the forum with the explicit purpose of stating how terrible their pain is, and nobody warned them, and has anyone else experienced shooting pains up their necks three days later that can't be controlled with medicine and leaves them in tears and I HAVE SCHOOL TO ATTEND!!! LOL!
     But the placement is scheduled, and quickly approaching, and there is no better date to insert this device into my body, so I attend an earlier section of one of my classes on Wednesday, and we head to the hospital. The doctor is a little behind, so after being confined in the pre-op room with my hubby (who likes to torture me by offering me food and drinks that he knows I cannot have) for more than an hour I am more than ready for the procedure to start.

Since operating rooms make me want to dance,
I wonder if I missed my calling in life? ;)

     I wake up in the recovery room and there are some of the same nurses from the last time I was in this room. Yeah! Let's party! "Hey, do you remember me?" I ask, because people sometimes don't anymore with the punk haircut. "I think I do," says one nurse, "I seem to remember dancing with you the last time you were here." "Yup, that's me, you guys should be dancing. Wouldn't life be better if we all took a little time to dance at work?" Yeah. I'm telling you, anesthesia makes me a party in a hospital gown. I didn't take ONE SINGLE LORTAB for my port placement. I went to class, came home, went to bed, got up, went to chemo, came home, went to class, went to bed, etc.... My portacath has been relatively painless. Thank goodness for the small favors, huh? Spoiler, I didn't publish this post and have re-evaluated my recovery.

Chemotherapy - the ultimate depilatory
Yeah, and don't even get me started on what the... why
this... picture is so crazy wrong. Hair removal and
flowers and near nudity and floating in sunsets. GAG.

     So Thursday we drop the kids off at various sitters houses, and head off for the hospital again. As the medial assistant leads me back through the suites I say to her "So, I understand you're here to offer me the most expensive depilatory on the market." She stumbles for a minute and says "...yes, chemo is very expensive..." with that kind of question in her voice that wonders if she's responding correctly. I suppress a sigh. I had hoped we'd start off the day with some laughter! Since my chemo was the very next day after port placement, the surgeon left the needle in for the chemo nurses. Yay! It takes awhile before they begin my treatment, and three different people ask me "Are you ready?" To which I reply or imagine replying things like "Hook me up!" "Let's do it!" "Let's get the ball rolling!" "No, I'm here and ready to go, and am now going to lecture you all about why chemo is a bad idea for treating my breast cancer..." I'm sure if I had more sarcasm in my body it could have come pouring out to great effect. Unfortunately, sarcasm usually occurs to me after a situation has concluded. I would be way funnier in real life if I had sarcastic bones in my body. Maybe. I can dream, right?!

   The pre-drugs (anti-emetic and steroid) are no big deal. The first chemo drug makes me queasy. The second makes me uneasy. We don't have to stop my treatment once. I ask my husband for a coke, and for crackers or nuts during the treatments to help with the nausea. I had brought a coconut water with me, which I mixed with the Coke. This seems like it should cause lightning strikes due to the sheer monstrosity of my blasphemy, but hey, I'm getting poisoned by medical professionals, so I guess it all works out somehow. By the time the kids are going to be getting home from school, we are done and on our way home. Just like the nurse said, the best way to describe how the chemo feels is not very easy to communicate. I feel a little "off" or "uneasy".

     I feel uncomfortable inside. I feel tired. The queasiness isn't quite like morning sickness. It sits higher in my digestive tract. It's lighter than morning sickness as well. I suspect by my next treatment that will be less true. I took some compazine in the afternoon to ease the queasiness, and dragged my mom out walking with me because the nausea subsides as I walk. I slept fine the first night, but only after I took a lorazepam the Doc and given me. I was up with my littlest on the couch watching a show and eating lemon drops one moment, and collecting my drool in my hand and dragging her to bed the next! Yuck! LOL, but by the next morning I was doing pretty well again. I took another compazine, and we were off and running for the entire day. I went to bed the next night around 10:00 pm or so, and woke up at 3:00 pm the next afternoon! I could tell I'd slept in, but honestly, I expected it to be ten or eleven in the morning when I got up. It was rather unsettling to sleep that long and not realize that I had been so out of it for so long. Thank goodness with it being Saturday my parents and sister and daughter all took turns taking care of the kids!
     Since then, my days (and especially nights) have been rather yucky. Like, stay near the bathroom yucky that ain't no one, no how, ever gonna' read about that kind of yucky, yucky. Not fun.
     I was supposed to get my expanders filled today, but even my mom didn't like the way my port looked this morning. By the time I saw Dr. J's Nurse Practitioner she said "I don't think we want to get anywhere near that thing with a needle right now." It's been hurting, too! Grr. I was so okay with not taking any pain control for the port placement, but here I am, nearly a week post-op, and I took one tonight.

I have to leave the steri-strips on until they fall off. Notice how the skin around
my port looks angry at me? And you can see the redness as it extends up the
catheter. What I don't have a clue about are all the red spots. They must be like
"We're mad, too, cause the purple Lego should have been rainbow colors.

     We're not certain it's infected, in fact, we're rather assuming it's not infected, but just to be on the safe side I'm on antibiotics. Funny, I had noticed it was getting more and more tender each day rather than less painful, but the general yuckiness of the chemo convinced me not to get too concerned. Let's hope tomorrow will find my skin looking less bruised, angry, or whatever the heck it is trying to communicate. We'll go for calm. Calm skin. And maybe some yoga... I haven't made it back to the gym since the port placement, and my husband keeps telling me it's not going to happen if my body isn't up for it. Well, "Come on, body! We need this, so deal with the trauma!"
     Oh, one additional note - everyone at Dr. J's office LOVED MY HAIR today! They made me feel so special and pretty and tough and punk and YES, I CAN KICK CANCER'S TRASH. YES. I. CAN.

Karma, Prayers, and Pink Cowgirl Boots

     Yesterday after my first class I went to the restroom in the CS building at UVU. I found the cutest pair of sunglasses sitting on the sink. No one was around. I felt the slightest temptation to claim them, but did what I always do in these situations. I hunted around until I found the lost and found! I had some errands to run after class. Specifically, I wanted to buy some Biotene products in preparation for the chemo, as recommended by my nurse. My sister had given me a Target gift card during my stay in the hospital, and it was time for me to use it. My youngest had given me a bad time all day, but I knew if I was going to go to Target before chemo started, it had to be between classes while I was still in Orem.

Mouth sores are a common side effect of
my chemo drugs, products like biotene
help prevent and reduce symptoms.

     I looked at scarves. I couldn't justify the cost, especially because I have another gift card from friends waiting to be used at a shop that specializes in cancer products. I looked at sunglasses (after all, those ones in the bathroom were cute, and I could probably use another pair,) but knew that was way down on the list of things I'd like to get. I headed toward the pharmacy and walked through the girls department. Hello, they're really selling a cute frilly size 3T skirt for $3.98 on the clearance rack? How could I pass that up? I picked up some band-aids on clearance, some deodorant for my 13 year-old since she had run out, and selected Biotene toothpaste, mouthwash, and some dry mouth lozenges.

     I don't go shopping very often, since we don't have money to spend. I try to imagine spending four times what the price tags list for things, because by the time we pay back our student loans that is how much we will repay for every dollar we borrowed. At this point that is likely to be a gross underestimate with our extra years of limbo and not being able to pay on our student loans. You get the idea. Shopping isn't very fun when it comes with strings attached, and I add pressure on myself for spending gifts from people wisely.

This picture does not do these boots justice!
They are adorable!

     I had promised my little one sunglasses, so we went to the toddler's department and picked some out for her. They are her first pair, and I hope they last for several years. On a whim, I decided to browse the children's shoes. For months I have been trying to find affordable cowgirl boots for my three-year-old. I bought her last pair of cowgirl boots a size too big, and she wore them five out of seven days a week, until they no longer fit her! When I had to take them away and hide them so she didn't ruin her feet, she made me promise that her new boots would be P-I-N-K. I didn't realize they would be so hard to find at a price I'd be willing to pay, but there they were, on Target's shelf! $24.99 and 20% off! Now that is the high end of what I'm willing to pay, but they were less than half the price of any I've found over the last three months (yes, I've been looking since before Christmas).

Target can replace lost or stolen gift cards
with purchase information or the gift
card number. My sister has reported it and
they will send a replacement.

     I skipped up toward the registers excited to be done with our trip and then I discovered that WE HAVE LOST THE GIFT CARD. Baby girl was throwing a fit, and to mollify her I made a mommy mistake. I let her hold the 'money'. She dropped the card somewhere in the store. I ran to the service desk, "Has anyone turned a gift card in?" "No." I re-traced my steps, my heart in my stomach. Nothing. I said a prayer, and retraced my steps more slowly, with tears starting to flow, and desperation and anger as well. I had just turned in something valuable that someone else had lost, and here was my repayment. Where was the karma? The good deed in return? I paid it forward! I asked my little one "Do you know where you lost it? I can't believe I let you hold it! I know better! And now someone has found it and taken it, and we will have to put everything back. We have to put your pink cowgirl boots back. We don't have enough money to pay for this stuff." And I kept looking. And a mother on the toothpaste aisle sensed my frantic despair, and asked if she could help me by being a second set of eyes. She helped to search my purse and I cried as I told her what had happened - including the reason for our trip.

 If you're the angel who helped me I'd love to send
you the replacement card Target is sending!

     She had her hands full herself, with a toddler and a beautiful little newborn. Target didn't have the product she came looking for. She insisted on paying for my selections. I tried to argue, but she insisted again. I volunteered to put back the unnecessary items. She said no. I told her I could cover whatever amount was over the amount I expected the gift card to cover. She said no. She told me "Just let me do this for you. I can do this, it's really okay." I cried and cried. I let her buy my products, and I thanked her. I asked for her phone number in case they can recover the gift card. She refused, saying should they recover it I should use it for whatever else I might need. I offered my blog address to her and let her know she will appear in it, and that right now what I have to give to others is my testimony.

Various gifts from before my double mastectomy

     This woman was an answer to my prayers. She is but one example of the many answers to my prayers I have been receiving. One example of the great kindnesses being extended to me on a regular basis. I don't know why there are times in life where it is difficult to receive answers to prayers, and why other times we get answers daily, but I know that these answers are not coincidences. They are all part of our Father's plan. He provides tender mercies, guidance, and comfort. He hears us, and He uses our faith to bless our lives and the lives of others.

Post surgical camisole provided by a friend.

     Thank you to the kind stranger who recognized a sister in distress. Thank you to the friends who have babysat my precious children. Thank you to those who have provided shoulders to cry on. Thank you to those who have sent meals, presents, cards, and treats. Thank you to those who have helped me clean my house, and to those who have visited me. Most of all, thank you for your prayers! I feel them. I feel the support and love from so many people, and even from people I haven't met yet, and it helps me keep my spirits high! I love you all, and hope you feel my love and gratitude.

Breast cancer quilt made by my cousin, pillows from Lifting Hearts - an organization that supports breast cancer survivors.

Tulips from my cousin - she sent front closure clothing for my recovery and more.

These are just a few examples of people's care and concern and kindness. 

There are more than I can list!

The (Punk) Haircut

Unfortunately I destroyed most of the pictures of me with
short hair. I do have a few in the storage unit, but
graduation pics last forever (I stole this one from my
sisters' FB photos).

     Right after I found out about my cancer, I had a couple of close friends contact me privately with some carefully thought out advice. "Have you considered cutting off all your hair before chemo? You could donate your hair to locks of love..." it went about like that, but more compassionate! Anyway, I love my hair long. I cut it short once in High School and well, it just never looked right. I never got the hang of styling it. I grew it out as soon as possible, and it was terribly, horribly awkward for most of two years. I swore I would never - NEVER cut it shorter than my chin again. Unless I had cancer. ;)
     I was also a bit confused about what to expect regarding hair loss at first. People kept telling me they knew someone who didn't lose their hair during chemotherapy. Like, they lost some hair, but kept enough to look normal. I did some research and discovered something like 80% of patients lose enough hair to shave it (actually, there was a LOT of conflicting information about numbers of patients with hair loss, but it was almost always in the strong majority). I thought, "Well, I will take the chance that I'm one of the 20% then..." But, when I spoke with my oncologist he made it sound like a for sure thing. "You will lose your hair around day 21." There was not a "most people" or a "chances are" or any qualifier on that statement. It made me uncomfortable that he seemed so certain. So, I did more research, and this time, I included my chemo drugs (cytoxan and taxotere). I found on the Cancer Research UK site this little gem:
Side effects:

• Hair loss – in 8 out of 10 people (80%) hair falls out completely but it grows back once the treatment ends

Notice that word 'completely'. Yeah. That means 2 in 10 still experience hair loss, but they might not lose every hair on their body. Maybe they keep their toe hairs! I read a lot of forums too, and the consensus was that patients start losing their hair on day 14 and by day 21 if they hadn't shaved it yet, they gave up and did!

Free online virtual makeover but don't get started
unless you have hours to spend playing with
the different styles!

     So, I decided if I was that likely to lose it all and shave my head anyway, I might as well get rid of most of it. I all ready struggle keeping my house clean - I don't want to add a full head of hair lost strand by strand to the mess! I did a virtual makeover or twenty. I searched pixie cuts, knowing it was likely I'd want some kind of style as it grows back in as well as while losing it. And, who knows? Maybe it'll come back in super curly - which is quite common! 

     How many times in life does a woman know she's going to lose all her hair? I figured I might as well take advantage of the experience. I pinned images to Pinterest and started speaking with my amazing sister-in-law/hair-stylist, Nateal, about what I might be wanting. (Just as a side note - I have 3 amazing s-i-l/hair-stylists. Nateal just happens to have lots of experience with the kind of style I want to go for.) She didn't even question me, but said "Okay, yeah, we could do something like that." She admitted to me as we got started today that it did make her just a bit nervous, but when she spoke with my brother about it, he reassured her by saying something like "That's just Megdalynn. Once she decides something, she jumps in with both feet. Don't worry about it, she knows what she wants or she wouldn't tell you." I love that he knows this about me! 

Aw, look how old I got!

     I'm actually sitting in the salon, writing this post as we get ready for the next step. By the way, Nateal is still taking clients at Relik Salon & Spa in Orem. Give her a call at 801-22-1947, she's got skillz! And let her know I sent you! (Yes, she can do NORMAL stuff too.)
     The best part about this? I CAN'T WAIT to see people's reactions!!! My kids, my husband, my classmates, my gym friends, ... my primary class.... Oh boy. Too late now! The box of color has already been opened. Might as well do it right! 

     Honestly, the virtual makeovers did not do a lot to build my confidence for this. It didn't help when I showed my dad the images and he said, "That doesn't even look like you." I replied, "I know, but it's me." "Well, what picture did you start with? Are you wearing any make-up?" LOL! My dad, bless his heart, does not like short hair on women! 

     Here are a bunch of pictures from the salon.

    I thought I would cry today, especially as the locks started hitting the floor - but what burst out of me instead was an intense fit of the giggles! 

 I like the cut way better than I thought I would. It doesn't add 20 pounds to my face the way the one I had in High School did. Or, at least, I hope it doesn't! The funny thing is, even if it does, the attitude it incorporates screams "I don't care!" anyway!

I laughed all the way through the cut, and had to take a little break to collect myself before the fade design - so it wouldn't get messed up by my laughter!

Original hair design by Nateal Ernst, Relik Salon, 801-225-1947

I loved it when my friend shared my video post on FB and said "she's fighting like a girl"! I think that will be my motto this week. It's going to be a long one, filled with doctors' offices. I'm earning that spring break!

 

The Gym

     Why am I writing about the gym on a cancer blog? Because it's part of my story, part of how I deal with my cancer, part of me and my life! I started going to the gym when I was 18 years old. My parents are not gym people. I don't know how or why I fell in love with the gym, but I am a total gym rat! I like it so much, I even took a class at BYU to certify to teach aerobics. If I were going to rank my favorite things to do at the gym my list would look something like this:
     Zumba/Yoga (tied for first place)

A treadmill and climbing wall in one!

     Group weight lifting classes
     A tread-climber
     Kick-boxing (I'm still new to this)
     Water aerobics
     Circuit training
     Floor combos (my own combination of cardio machines and weight lifting after)
     Volleyball
     Indoor track
     Anything else on a court (dead last!)

     Notice the obvious absence of swimming? That's because I don't know how to swim for fitness! I cried my way out of swim classes as a kid, and gave myself terrific anxiety over the water, but love being in it for fun. Maybe someday I'll try taking a class again...
     Anyway, adjusting to life in the Caribbean really did a number on my gym attendance. I tried running on the island, but never got used to the humidity the entire time I was there. I did put forth some effort at staying in shape, but nothing quite like the gym rat life I had been comfortable with before. Then when I got morning sickness with my son, my workouts REALLY fell apart. I was a sporadic exerciser for years after that. We had a membership at the YMCA in Georgia, which was awesome, but I never attended as regularly as I expected myself to.

The Y in Lawrenceville, GA

     Then we moved back to Utah, licking our wounds, and when I tried to do yoga it wasn't the same. My body was still stretched out from childbirth, and it made embarrassing noises! We were broke and broken. We were blessed to live in a basement, but with 6 people in two rooms, and all the stress of unfinished medical school, a newborn, and getting used to living in someone else's home... it was a lot to handle. I didn't handle it well. I knew I needed to change something, but didn't know how. Then things got worse. And even worse. And even though people thought I was a pleasant, happy person, I was deeply depressed. "Pleasant and happy" for me is a far cry from the enthusiastic and bubbly personality that normally just oozes out of me and permeates everything around me, causing people to groan and say "You are SO annoyingly happy, I hate you!" and they weren't joking. I've heard that statement several times.

     So, I finally (FINALLY!) dragged my butt in to see the Doctor and discussed my depression with him. He put me on a medication that helped me not be the crazy lady on the news who drives off a cliff with all her kids in the car. Things were a little better. I started training for a 5K to get my butt out of the house and moving. As soon as I could run 5K, I quit. Then my parents' apartment in their basement opened up. There's just something about having your own laundry and kitchen space (even under someone else's roof,) and things were a little better again.  A few months after moving I brought up the subject of joining the gym with my husband. We discussed it, with the conclusion that we couldn't afford it. But I couldn't let it go. I needed to be at the gym. I prayed about it, and felt strongly that I needed to join. I discussed it with my husband again, and he supported me in joining. Since this process took a couple of months, I ended up joining the first week of January. The absolute WORST week to join a gym! I started off on the cardio machines. I slowly started incorporating some weights, but not very much. I felt a little better. I would sneak peaks at the classes, and wish that I was in good enough shape to be in them. My sister-in-law attended a Zumba class with me, and after that, I joined a different class every day of the week, and sometimes two classes in one day.

Two of my instructors AFTER class. Nobody really
wanted to be in a picture after class, but it was my first
day back after the surgery, so they humored me.

Now, when I miss a day at the gym, I feel it. Not so much physically, but psychologically. Every time they come out with another news bit on physical fitness and depression I wish I could explain how remarkably I have felt the benefits of physical fitness in my life. I've also met amazing people through the gym. I've struggled making friends here, but the gym is the exception to that. It has blessed my life in so many ways!

I took this on the day of my cry fest with my friend
who gave me the "BE BRAVE" necklace.
We were still crying when I took it. :)

     If you were wondering where the part of my blog is when I talk about God, here it is. The timing of all of this - from my children, to my husband's career, to something as simple as my physical fitness - it all testifies to His plan. He prepared me. He lead me, even when I didn't want to be lead. I can't imagine how things would have gone if I had discovered my cancer in the midst of my depression. I can't imagine how my life would be. It's likely it would not be. My fitness level has enhanced my recovery. It has given me an outlet for my stress. I could go on, and on, but for tonight, my message to you, dear reader, is to take good care of your health. Make one change toward healthier living today. Add to that change when it becomes comfortable. Healthier living helps us to be happier, and God actually wants us to have joy. Do your monthly self breast exam. Park at the end of the parking lot. Drink an extra glass of water. Take a hike. Whatever you can handle - one small change, which will lead to another... 

God's Will

     Yesterday was a very difficult day for us. My husband didn't match to a residency program. This was not his first try. When I received my cancer diagnosis, I thought about how we are 'stuck' someplace we do not want to be. We have known for awhile now that being stuck is part of God's plan for us, but it's one of those trials I spoke about earlier - where I am selfish and can only see how it's hurting me and my family. We live in my parents' basement apartment with our four children, and before we lived here, we lived in my husband's parents' basement. In light of the cancer, I wondered "Maybe we were meant to be stuck here because I'm meant to deal with this in the middle of the largest support system I could have." As the oldest of eight children, and being married to the oldest of seven children, we have a large family support system! Our parents live less than two blocks apart, but they attend different church congregations. We have attended both congregations, and now, both of them are supporting us. I can't imagine how difficult treating my cancer would be if we had relocated 6 months before my diagnosis! And my support system - both near and far - is AMAZING. Absolutely amazing.

     Several years ago, we were engaged in prayer regarding when we needed to try to have another child. I get very morning sick, so being able to cope with non-stop nausea for roughly 6 or 7 months is a pretty big deal in the planning process. At the time, we were preparing for Shane to finish medical school, and to apply for residency. I was very concerned about how we would provide the financial support for another child, should God wish to send us one. I prayed often. I was uncomfortable with my answers, so I went to the temple and prayed there also. I plead with my Father in Heaven, "I cannot handle another child without knowing that we will be able to provide for the child's basic needs. I need confirmation that not only is this thy will, but also that we will be able to take care of our children." It took a lot of faith to accept His answer and conceive our fourth child.

     When Shane didn't pass his board exam on his second try I struggled with what I knew it would mean for his career, and felt anxious about our future. We were struggling financially and baby number four was growing away. I'm not going to downplay it - we miraculously received a student loan check we were not expecting which helped us be able to complete Shane's schooling. We even received help from the church on our way out of town. There was just no money to go around! (Well, that's been the story of our entire medical school journey!)
     For a long time, I questioned "why?" Why would I be told to bring a child in the world we were not going to be able to provide for? Here I am, four years later, with a cancer that is fed by female hormones. If I had not listened to God's will, I might have ended up with a much larger cancer problem, or without my precious daughter.

     Yesterday as we were processing the bad news, again, of Shane not matching into a residency program, my sister reminded me of my prayers during the previous summer. My question at that time was also regarding God's will for our family. "Do I have another baby, or should I go back to school?" The answer to go back to school was clear. It felt selfish at the time. I questioned whether I was listening to my own will instead of God's, but His will was reinforced by His tender mercies. I know I was supposed to go back to school. My sister asked me "Could you imagine if you had been pregnant instead of being in school?" It really made me stop and think. If I had not listened to God in the first circumstance, I might have tried to squeeze that baby in later. If I had not listened to God in the second circumstance, I would have been diagnosed with cancer while pregnant with those hormones making the cancer grow like wildfire! The match news would not have been a setback, it would have been truly devastating with the added concerns of a fifth child and my possible death.

"The submission of one's will is really the only uniquely personal thing we
have to place on God's altar. The many other things we 'give,' ... are
actually the things He has already given or loaned to us. However, when
you and I finally submit ourselves, by letting our individual wills be
swallowed up in God's will, then we are really giving something to Him!
It is the only possession which is truly ours to give!" -Neal A. Maxwell

     I know God knows and loves each of His children. I know He has a plan for us. I know He will guide us to His will if we will search it out. I know He speaks to us through scripture, prophets, and personal revelation. I know miracles occur. I know that we can put our trust in Him, and that all we accomplish in this life is by His grace. I know His son, Jesus Christ, atoned for our sins - and suffered our pains and tribulations. He is the light of the world, and He was/is the perfect example of listening to and following God's will. My life has shown me these truths over and over again, and I am grateful for the knowledge!

Mastectomy - psychology and recovery.

     Argh. I am so behind on my blog! But, hey, aren't you proud of me for taking some time to recover? OK, OK, I admit, I have pushed myself too hard a couple of times. I am trying hard to be a patient patient. Well, hard for me... My recovery has gone quite well. The Doctors are impressed, but not actually surprised since I am fit and young compared to the majority of their patients.
     I'm going to get personal here again, so if you want to skip six paragraphs...

This image from Google is pretty representative
of my scars. Not bad, huh?

     My scars are pretty awesome. On my left, under my breast, my scar measures about three inches. I have two on that side because they spared my nipples. My scar above my nipple, over where the tumor was located, is about two inches. My scar on the right side is barely two inches, and all ready fading into obscurity.
     The pathology from my surgery indicated that my Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC) was surrounded by Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS). Sometimes the medical personnel try to make that sound less scary by saying the cancer was surrounded by pre-cancerous cells. They are trying to simplify the difference between the invasive cancer and the non-invasive, but they're not fooling me.
My grandmother had a double mastectomy to remove DCIS. Hers was not invasive, but still warranted removal. Anyway, treatment choices for the remaining DCIS (which is microscopic) include either radiation, or further excision. Based on my own feelings, and the recommendations from my tumor board, we are going with further excision. Dr. J, the plastic surgeon, will use the same incision line they used to remove my tumor to cut out just a little bit more tissue. The DCIS remaining was like a tail, or a feeler, extending toward my sternum. I am pleased to avoid the radiation!

     Within half an hour prior to my surgery, Dr. J. came to visit me practically skipping. He was excited that Dr. T. planned on saving my nipples! Ha! He was more excited about it than I was by far, but his enthusiasm was encouraging. I didn't really view the changes to my body until I got home, though I did pay some attention as the nurses and Doctors checked my incision sites. I ended up with bruising covering the lower half of my left breast, and a scab over my left nipple caused by a small disruption of blood supply as my body started figuring out how it was supposed to function without my breasts. I also had some skin puckering or dimples.

I had two drains, one for each side. A tube, sticking out of my body, connected to a plastic bulb shaped about like a grenade. The drains collect excess fluid to reduce swelling. Gone were the breasts that had fed four children. They had expanded and retracted so many times they were no longer perky. They were no longer full. They were so small, they were also (fortunately) not saggy. I earned those imperfections. They were mine. Looking in the mirror at home - at my skin beaten up and stretched over the expanders - I observe the new perkiness and mourn the loss. Is it weird to miss something imperfect? To trade imperfection for something most women desire - and feel like you got short-changed?
     A long time ago in my youth I was obsessed with my body image. I tried so hard to create a body that was not mine. I starved myself. It took many years before I realized why I had been sinning. During my time teaching young women in the church, I shared with them the story of my journey, and the testimony I gained about loving our bodies because they are God given. He doesn't create mistakes. I learned to accept my body and my perceived flaws because those very flaws are a gift to me from God. I no longer mocked His design. I was grateful for it. I changed my psychology. And now, my figure more accurately reflects what society says women should look like. It disturbs me.
     When I first discovered my breast cancer I was unaware of the congressional act that mandates insurance company coverage of breast reconstruction for policies which cover lumpectomy or mastectomy. I anticipated attending my classes with one breast, as I knew it would be unlikely I would be able to tolerate a prosthetic for several months after the surgery.

Mastectomy Swimsuit Fashion
I love the empowerment in these pics.

I was okay with that, but I knew it would be difficult at times, and that no matter how much I tried to 'gear myself up for it', I would mentally struggle with the implications. I was relieved to find out about the act of Congress in response to my personal situation. Upon further research, I discovered the act was passed based on research into patients' psychological well being post-mastectomy, with or without reconstruction. The evidence heavily supports healthy psychological outcomes for reconstruction, and especially for younger women. I am also grateful that each woman can choose what is right for her personal well being. I would completely support a woman of any age desiring to forego reconstruction. So why did I choose reconstruction? It's complicated. I didn't mind being small, but I have to admit, part of my self identification as a woman includes my breasts. Beyond that, I considered the effect on my family.  My husband is tremendously supportive of me making whatever decision I want regarding my own body. He wants me to be happy, and I have to speak with him at length before he expresses even the hint of an opinion. Still, he is a man, and he admits he enjoys breasts. I considered our intimacy. I thought about my children. I'm still uncertain regarding the lessons my children would have learned from either outcome, but felt strongly that my youngest ones would have had a much harder time without the reconstructive surgery. I struggle with my culture's view on women's breasts. I have for many years, but my breast cancer brings the topic to my mind often.

Are you kidding me?
That's the biggest syringe I've ever seen!

     My expanders were 'filled' for the first time today. 100 mL of saline were pumped into each side. The procedure itself was not painful, but the same places that have been causing me discomfort this week have hurt more since we left the doctor's office. It reminded me of water balloons being filled. My husband thought it simply erased some of the skin dimples and puckers that had resulted from the surgery, and didn't see any size difference. They will expand them one more time than what I feel is 'my size' so that the implants do not damage my skin. What is 'my size'? I don't know. I all ready feel more blessed by the extension of my life than I deserve. I all ready feel more perky than I would like to be. I all ready have more... fake breast (?) ... than I started out with! Does it even matter? I suspect I could have made my way through life without breasts and still been just fine. My own psychology confuses me. Oh, and you can feel the unnatural nature of the expanders underneath my skin. It is very... weird! I try not to think about how alien the expanders are because I don't want to convince my body to reject them! Even other people can feel the expanders - they are a little creeped out by the unnatural feel of the plastic underneath my skin.
     I started doing physical therapy on my own before receiving clearance from the doctor. I was ready! I'm glad I will see her again this Tuesday because I want to start doing yoga again. I miss the gym!