Protected: Best of Blog: Patience, Persistence, Peace
You may have noticed that I’ve been re-posting old posts like there’s no tomorrow. I am fully expecting a tomorrow but there are some posts I wanted to get to reposting before my TRAM surgery and I am a stickler for keeping my “Best of Blogs” in chronological order. I’ve also discovered that I can write a post now and then schedule it to be posted later. How did I miss that little WordPress feature in my nine months of blogging?
Enjoy the “Best of Blog” Marathon!
This post is from 7/21/12.
I know a lot of people say that clowns are scary. I have never found clowns to be scary, generally speaking but I do have a bad experience with a Seafair clown. I was 14 years old and had just completed the 8th grade. I can’t remember which of the Seafair parades I was attending but it was my first Seafair parade. Unfortunately, this parade marked another first for me, my first kiss, given to me by a Seafair clown. He planted a wet one right on my lips when I least expected it. Imagine being a 14 year-old girl and getting your first kiss from a middle-aged Seafair clown. Yuck!
Fast forward thirty-one years a year or two later, to the summer of 2011. I was attending the Chinatown Parade, my first Seafair-clown attending event since my unfortunate teen-aged experience. I was approached by one of the clowns and my dad wanted to take our picture together. Honestly, my stomach lunged a little from anxiety. But he looked trust-worthy and I gave it a go. He was a gentlemanly clown and we took a nice, healing photo together.
I am hoping for some healing tomorrow, too. I am looking forward to just being a mom at a parade, cheering on her kid.
This post is from 7/18/12, the day of my second lumpectomy. I was already resting at home and had enough energy and adrenaline to write two posts! This is the second post. I have been very lucky to have such caring and competent medical care. Unfortunately, this surgery was not the end of cancer surgeries since the margins weren’t clear. I had multi-focal cancer, meaning that there were multiple tumors, which although tiny and relatively slow growing, were separate tumors. Consequently, I got another toe squeeze from Dr. Beatty after my mastectomy, which I would have three weeks after I wrote this post.
Surgery went well and I am resting at home. Dr. Beatty reassuringly squeezed my foot as he left after we had our pre-op talk. My first thought? “I have to tell my mom!”.
This is the email my mom sent to my last night after hearing about the clear PEM scan. (It still won’t make total sense so I’ll explain it later in the post.)
Hi Liz,
I was so relieved that I forgot to wish you well on the lumpectomy.Hope all goes well. We love you so much.All week I kept hoping that Dr. Clark would squeeze my footand tell me you’d be OK. I guess he did.
This post is from 7/14/12. It’s not so much of a “best of blog” for the writing but for what gardening means to me. I was so happy to be able to get out and weed. My garden used to be a sanctuary and I’ve really missed being able to work out there on a regular basis. I know that it’s only a matter of time until my schedule and body cooperate so that I can get out there again and do some real work. Unlike my daily walking, the gardening involves physical movement that is not as controlled and emphasizes my right upper body, you know the part that keeps getting surgery. Currently, I am physically up to it but my schedule is crazy until the surgery. My wonderful hubby did some clean up for my last weekend and it made a world of difference. I try not to look at the amount of grass that is invading the flowers and ground covers.
I got to get out in the yard and weed this morning. Yay! Here are some pictures of my Jungle of Delights!
Protected: Best of Blog: Crunch
This post is from 7/4/12, right after the pathology report came back from my first lumpectomy and I learned that the margins weren’t clear and I needed another surgery. Until the surgical part of treatment was done the rest of the treatment plan could not be solidified. So even though I’d been a cancer patient for over a month, I still didn’t know whether I would need to have chemotherapy or radiation treatment. As it turned out, I had two more surgeries to go and my treatment plan would not be formalized until August.
Yesterday, I saw a young woman waiting for the elevator at the Swedish Cancer Institute. She was probably in her late 30’s. She wore well-fitting jeans (not tight, just right), a top, and a cute little hat on top of her nearly bald head. I thought, “She’s rockin’ that look.”
I smiled at her, said “hi”, and we both got on the elevator. She saw my Swedish tote bag, which identified my membership in the cancer club. She remarked that she had carried hers around for months but it made her feel like a nerd. I joked that I called it “my big ole’ bag o’ cancer.” It ended up that we were both headed to the surgery clinic. We chatted a bit more as we waited to check in. She seemed smart and friendly. After we checked in, I joined John who was already in the waiting room and she sat in a different section of the room.
After several minutes, she walked over and said, “I hate waiting. Would you like to chat?” We introduced ourselves and talked for a few minutes. Jen had also just gotten surgery but this was her second surgery. She had also just completed a round of chemotherapy and it was likely that she would complete another one. I wish I’d gotten a chance to talk with her more but I was called in for my appointment soon after she joined us.
Jen looks really young and she’s had a lot of treatment in the last 7 months (she was diagnosed in December). Despite these sobering facts, I was reassured by her. Two of my biggest concerns about cancer treatment are having energy and if I should ever need chemotherapy, changing the way I interact with the world because I would be an obviously ill person. But Jen had enough energy yesterday morning to take care in putting together an outfit, which she rocked. (I know that she had just finished chemotherapy so she probably felt worse earlier but still.) She also engaged with me, a stranger in an upbeat way. I’m sure she gets lots of looks and has the frequent dichotomy of experiences where people either avert their gaze and ignore you or approach you and talk about your illness even though they are a stranger. But still, her presence was reassuring.
If I don’t see you again, Jen keep rocking the hat and I wish you a speedy recovery from this point on.
This post is from 6/28/12, one day after my first surgery, which was a lumpectomy. I’ve had five additional surgeries since this time and John and I are still trying to work out the rhythm of the caretaker/patient dance. We are getting there and planning for my reconstructive surgery in March.
So, I am doing pretty well today, one day after surgery. My pain rating (on a scale of 0-10) is about about 1-2. John says he is running out of things to do around the house and noted that I don’t seem to need much besides a steady supply of decaf coffee. He asked my plans for the day. Plans? Sitting on my butt is my plan. Perhaps I confused him when I unloaded the dishwasher this morning with my left hand. (The surgery was on the right side.) Yes, I know you are all yelling at me in your heads as you read this. I am following the directions given to me by my nurse! I am taking it easy.
Anyway, John asked me “Do you want to go to a movie today. If not, I can go without you.”
“And leave me home alone?”
“Well, you haven’t really needed me much.”
“What if I get an infection? I’m not cool with you leaving today and I don’t want to go to a movie. I think it would be uncomfortable to sit in a theater.”
John did not need much convincing to stay home. I just think he needs to be needed. People just being around is a lot of help. A hard part of this process is that I don’t know how much help I will need and what kind I will need. I know that’s hard for John, too.
I promise to stay away from the dishwasher for the rest of the day.
My Eyes Are Up Here 