Archives for category: Feelings

I am feeling so much better today than yesterday. The main reason for this is that I received some fantastic news from my friend, Brian who was diagnosed with soft tissue sarcoma over a year ago. His tumor was the size of a volleyball and he was initially told to “get his affairs in order”. Brian had one surgery with FIVE surgeons. There was still a lot of cancer showing on a subsequent scan. He went for a second opinion and ended up changing medical teams to the University of Washington. Brian did a course of radiation and then another surgery last September, again requiring a team of five surgeons. The margins were not totally clear. He had a follow up of targeted radiation.

This is what I read on Brian’s blog yesterday:

I’m happy to have great news to share. I got a CT scan of my chest and an MRI of my pelvis this week and the results were great. The CT scan is to check for new cancer bits spreading into my lungs, the MRI is to check the surgery site where lingering cancer cells they did not remove in the surgery or kill with the radiation could grow into new tumors. The scans showed that both areas are free and clear. There was nothing of concern, no visible cancer, nothing to worry about. That’s as good as it gets.

Needless to say I was having some fairly uncomfortable times leading up to this since if it had gone differently that would have been very bad news. Its unsettling to have so much up in the air. I’ve been realizing the last couple days how stressful that was, since in particular the day after the tests I was really wiped out tired.

The plan now is to continue to do scans every 3 months, perhaps for 3 more times, then go to every 6 months. Particularly with the type of cancer I have it’s hard to ever know the whole story for sure. There is a chance it could still come back. But the fact that this round of tests came up totally negative is huge. And a massive relief.

I’m still working on surgery recovery. I think the real story is that 6 weeks of radiation does a lot of damage and apparently continues to do damage for up to a year. That seems to explain why I’m still having to work hard at rehab, still have some weakness and soreness, still feel the surgery site all the time. But it’s not too bad, I’ve been skiing and pretty much doing what I want so I’m fortunate. The fact that one of my doctors asked me if I’ve been using narcotics for the pain seems to indicate that for a lot of people the recovery process is far longer and harder- I haven’t had ‘pain’ from the surgery requiring anything for many months.

So, despite the incredibly dire prognoses given to me and unfortunately my mom and others around the time of the first surgery, I appear to be on the road to cured and am healthy now and doing fantastic!

We chatted on the phone yesterday. What a relief for anyone but especially a single dad of an 11 year-old boy! I am just thrilled!

At least until May, that is. Yes, this means that I finished all of my assessment reports! Hoorah! I have also finished all of my sessions with patients until late April.

Hooray! Hooray!

Okay, I lied a little. I still have three progress notes to write and some insurance claims to sign.

Update: Now all of the paperwork is done! Yay!

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This blog was posted on 8/1/12. This stressful period of my life was good comedy material, prompting my brother to quip, “Cancer has made you clever.”

You remember who was in the chorus of the Gene Wilder musical classic? Yes, the Oompa Loompas. And what color were the Oompa Loompas? Yes, they were orange. And what color were my roots after using an unfortunate shade of Clairol Natural Instincts? Yes, they were a very deep shade of overripe cantalope. “Natural” Instincts, my ass!

I’ve never messed up a hair color before but I haven’t done it myself for several years and apparently, Clairol Natural Instincts uses a totally different formula than they did when I last used their products. And they are on a melon kick! Not to be seen in public (other than going to Target to get a fix for this), I used a non-permanent, normal looking reddish brown dye today. Ah, much better. Most of the melon is gone.

The Oompa Loompas would say that my parents are to blame for this mishap (“…the mother and the fa-ather”). However, the same thing happened to my mom and she warned me about it. When did I remember this? After I rinsed the color out of my hair! So, I’ve decided to blame Roald Dahl.

It will be so nice to be able to go back to the salon. It will happen.

P.S. The color was just like this except MORE orange. No lie.

The Oompa Loompas after disobeying their lax parents in the Clairol Factory and falling into a vat of Natural Instincts “Dark Auburn.”

This post is from 7/31/12, the day of my first visit to a plastic surgery office. It was surreal.

This afternoon I met with Drew Welk, M.D. a plastic surgeon at the Polyclinic. We had a good meeting and it was interesting to shift from a physician who focuses on disease treatment to one who focuses on aesthetics. I found out that my incision is not in the best place to which I replied, “Yeah, my cancer insists on being all kinds of inconvenient.” To his credit, he laughed at my ribbing. I did learn that I have very favorable “breast geometry” with only a little post-partum loss of muscle tone. Yay, my breasts got complimented! They’ve been a little starved for positive comments lately, especially the right one, which is currently looks like a more than a  little like a dented tin can these days.

Dr. Welk is talking to Dr. Beatty tomorrow to share his input regarding the best way to make incisions for the mastectomy so that he has something reasonable to work with later after the fat has been removed from my skin, the latter of which I get to keep. He took pictures in the clinic photography booth, which was set up like the DMV, except for the fact that I was partially disrobed and he had his choice of three different expensive looking cameras. (Or maybe the other cameras belonged to other surgeons. That makes more sense.) He took the last picture after he’d drawn a little incision map with a Sharpie.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I liked him. Plus it was a surgery day for him so between his energetic demeanor and the fact that he was wearing scrubs, he looked like a surgeon action figure. (Not to be confused with 1973’s surgeon Barbie and yes, she was real; click the link. Also, not to be confused with an action figure for the character, Surgeon from Hellraiser 2. Mom don’t go to that link: That surgeon doll is heinous.)

Okay, so Michelangelo is probably not the best sculptor to reference in this post. He was criticized for the way he sculpted breasts, basically that it looked like he’d thrown a couple of softballs on top of a suspiciously manly shaped torso. A better sculptor might be the 20th century artist, Lachaise. That man knew how to sculpt realistic breasts on refreshingly substantial looking women. Hmm. “The Lachaise of La Twins”? I’ll stick with Michelangelo for the alliteration. My cousin, Beth favors Bernini breasts herself. Bernini’s sculptures are absolutely breath taking but the first thing that comes to my mind is “the Rape of Persephone”–not the image I want in my head when thinking about my breast reconstruction. Beth conceded that Bernini tended to show women on the run.  But I present exhibits A, B, and C for your consideration:

One of Lachaise’s fabulous, “Standing Woman” I think this is a clear winner. Unlike “Dawn”, Lachaise’s sculptures of women actual look like a woman modeled for them. Also, Lachaise’s women look like they could fend off a Greek god or random creep in the bushes, unlike Bernini’s stunningly beautiful but nearly defenseless damsels.

Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne. This is Beth’s submission. In this case, Daphne is so desperate to get out of Apollo’s stalkeresque clutches that she turns herself into a tree!

Michelangelo. This is a sculpture I’ve seen in person. It’s from the Tomb of the Medici’s in Florence. This figure is supposed to be “Dawn” Looks like a man named “Don” with softball boobs, am I right?

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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 foot
and tell me you’d be OK. I guess he did.
Okay, so here’s the explanation:
I was a preterm baby born with respiratory distress. My body was not yet producing sufficient surfactant, which allows lungs to inflate with air and keeps the air sacs in the lungs filled with air. Back then, physicians didn’t know how to treat it so the prognosis was more touch and go. JFK and Jacki Kennedy had lost a baby a couple of years previously from respiratory distress. (For years, all I knew about my rough start in life was that my lungs weren’t fully developed and that I had the thing that the Kennedy baby had.) To make a long story short, it wasn’t clear that I was going to survive. My mom’s OB/GYN, Dr. Clark was talking to her while she was in the hospital. I imagine that she was alone. She had 4 other children at the time so I am guessing my dad had them at home. Seeing that she was scared and tearing up, he squeezed her foot as he left the room. My mom has spoken of this event many times over the years so I know this little gesture meant a great deal her.
So when I told my mom about this she said, “You need to write about this in your blog!”
So hospital physicians out there, we like the foot squeeze. We give it two big toes up!

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Lindbergh High School Reunion '82, '83, '84, '85

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