So my other project is Weight Watchers. As some of you know, I have had trouble maintaining a healthy weight since I was a teen. Sometimes I dread going in for my annual physical because if I’m overweight, I know my internist will ask me about my weight loss plans. Even though it is totally her job to talk to me about this and she does it in the kindest way possible, I still feel dread. Just last Friday, I was weighed at the beginning of my consultation with the surgeon. I was slightly surprised as I had asked the day before whether I would be given a medical exam and the woman whom I had spoke with told me that it was just a consultation. So, the nurse escorted me from the waiting room with the first stop being the scale. I quipped, “Ugh, getting weighed is worse than having cancer.” Crickets. I am known for my gallows humor under extreme stress. After all, I was the the person that upon opening a letter at work informing me that I was one of the people being let go in a round of lay offs who stood in the hallway, waved the letter, and exclaimed, “I thought this was a bonus check!” People laughed then but not this time. And perhaps I was imagining things but I thought I even saw a bit of a pained look on the face of one of the RN’s that passed me so I lamely said for all to hear, “I really don’t think it is worse to be weighed than having cancer.”

There are periods in my life when I’ve been overweight and periods when I have been at a healthy weight. I also have a long history of a poor body image. I didn’t really believe that I could possibly be good looking until I was an older teen and even that was a tenuous realization. There were also periods when I viewed myself as downright ugly. I used to get bullied about the way I looked, too. NOT HELPFUL. I remember when I was a 5th grader, there was this 6th grader who purposely sat on the bus with me for what seemed like days on end to tell me how ugly I was. He once said, “You’re so ugly, you don’t deserve to live.” Now this was not one of the popular kids, he was, objectively speaking, a pretty homely kid with a lot of problems and not many friends. Nonetheless, I can still remember the way my face burned and my stomach turned, just listening to him. In the 7th grade, some of the 8th grade boys used to tease me by pretending they liked me by derisively flirting with me. They also gave off the impression that they thought I didn’t know they were insincere.

When I was in the 8th grade, I lost about 25 pounds and grew a number of inches. I also started wearing make-up and stylish clothes. When I wasn’t wearing my velour top, white painter’s pants, and high heel Candie’s slides, I was wearing my Brittania’s with my blue Nike swoosh running shoes. I got my hair professionally cut into a Farrah-esque mane, except with more curl and brunette hair. Anyway, you get the picture. The world changed for me. Some of my old friends were no longer friends and then some kids who wouldn’t have previously given me the time of day, acted like they wanted to make friends. I pretty much stuck with the friends in the third group, the ones who stayed my friends throughout my physical transformation.

When I got to high school, some of those former 8th grade boys did not recognize me because I had changed while they were high school freshman. One of them actually tried to ask me out a few years later and our band teacher was even trying to be his wing man. I did not explain myself. As it turned out, I actually didn’t end up dating a lot in high school. I was loud and a good student. I was considered a “brain” and in adolescent black-and-white thinking, if you fit in one category, it was hard to be in another category like “pretty” or “fun.” I remember, too thinking that I would have a better dating life if I weren’t doing as well at school. As much as I wanted a boyfriend and doubted whether I was attractive or not, I knew that if I worked hard at school I would have a lot more choices later in my life. I also remember having a strong sense of financial responsibility for supporting myself someday. (This was more than a little unusual as I was 1) thinking far ahead into the future and 2) there were still a lot of stay at home moms back then, including my own.

By the time I got to college, I got a lot of attention for my looks. I had never really experienced a lot of positive attention like this. Men I didn’t know would see me walking up the steps to U.W. buildings and open the door for me! I have to admit, it was pretty cool. I remember during one week of my sophomore year, I had two young men asking for dates. I thought, “Why shouldn’t I be able to date two men?” So I went out to lunch with one and out to dinner with the other all in the same week. SCANDALOUS! This will sound ridiculous but the idea of dating two guys felt like juggling 100 items at once and like I was doing something wrong. I liked both of them. After a week I chose one of them for a stupid reason, too (he lived closer to me.) Ironically, this boyfriend was also one that when mad at me, complained that I was too fat and not pretty enough. This is a lesson to you, young ladies out there. It is perfectly okay to casually date more than one guy especially if you are simply eating meals with them. And don’t pick boyfriends based solely on convenience.

My husband and I met when I was 20. He’s a dear and has always sincerely complimented my looks no matter my age or weight, which has fluctuated quite a bit over the past 25 years. It was with ample embarrassment and some shame that I recently admitted to him that even now during the overweight periods of my middle aged life, I think negative thoughts about my weight and appearance several times a day. I am extremely careful to avoid saying these things aloud, especially in front of my daughter. But despite the fact that I have a wonderful husband, career, and family as well as the fact that I am a pretty happy person, I have yet to eliminate the negative self-comments from my head.

It is easy to say that this is ALL the doing of the media or our culture for it’s ridiculous emphasis on beauty, sex appeal, and youth in women in defining their value to society. And although I was hardly immune to this influence, I was able to counter so many other cultural influences. I didn’t take drugs, smoke, or drink. I did well in school. I was very ambitious in my schooling and career. Further, I have experienced myself as being valued for so many substantive characteristics, for being intelligent, for being kind, for being smart and fun. I know there are other ways to be valued as a woman than for beauty. I am a happy and outgoing person. When I walk down the street, people often smile or say, “hello.” My experience with the world, even of people I don’t know is so overwhelmingly positive. Why do I still have these thoughts of being less than? Is it really so important to me that I be valued specifically for beauty? Or is this voice in my head just an old tape that plays when I am feeling the negative physical and emotional effects of not eating right or exercising? Maybe it is really closer to the latter and I am not so superficial deep down after all. I’ve never thought about it that way before. Thanks again, Mom this blog was a great idea!

Some of you may read this and be tempted to provide me with reassurance, to tell me, “Don’t be ridiculous, you are beautiful.” I’m not looking for reassurance. Whether I am beautiful or not is beside the point. Whether I am physically beautiful to others is irrelevant. All of us know women who are breathtakingly beautiful and even make money at least in part for being breathtakingly beautiful and are still horribly unhappy about their looks. (I’m looking at you Uma Thurman.) No amount of outside reassurance is going to fix those insecurities and doubts.

Finally, I may never fully rid myself of that negative body image tape. But maybe I need to stop feeling so embarrassed by and ashamed of it. I will never be perfect so I don’t need to beat myself up for beating myself up. The tape is one of the things about my life I would like to be different. I’ve already proven that I can live with it and be a happy, well-adjusted person. And yes, I know that my project is bigger than Weight Watchers. But the Weight Watchers project is helping me be physically healthier and there’s no shame in that.

After a few adrenaline fueled days and nights short on sleep (not ruminating with worry but keyed up), I am feeling quite fuzzy in the brain area. My father-in-law, Don is visiting. He went on what was to be a short shopping trip, which turned out to take an hour. I forgot my shopping list and then kept remembering things that I needed from rows back. He was patient and didn’t seem to mind meandering around the store. Actually, knowing him, he probably enjoyed it.

I have two fairly complicated psych reports to finish this weekend, though. I have designated writing days, Thursday and Friday but between being told I had cancer on Thursday morning and spending nearly all day at the hospital on Friday, I didn’t get much done. I’ve done all of the easy stuff, scoring and entering the scores into my report template. But now I still need to write the parts that do not fit a template because they are the narrative bits of the report as well as the recommendations. Oh yeah, I have to figure out the diagnoses, too. One of the kids is puzzling me because the data are not corroborating across reporters and I can’t think of a variable or set of variables to explain the discrepancies. Phew, explaining what I have to do actually kind of maxed out my brain power. And it was kind of a boring description, to boot.

It’s a three day weekend. I’m going to sleep on it and see if I have adequate coherence to work on it another couple of hours tomorrow.

And yes, I could have cancelled the parent feedbacks I have scheduled for next Tues, which are making it so I need to finish these reports by then. I don’t see the advantage, though. I think I’m going to need this time even more later.

Okay, this is not my best writing but then again, take another look at the title.

I told Zoey about my cancer today. At first, she thought she was in trouble even though I said, “I need to talk to you about something important and you are not in trouble.” She sat wide eyed as I told her the following, “You know how I told you that I was having some medical tests? Well, the bad news is that I am very sick. The good news is that it was discovered early and there is a very, very high chance that I will be okay and live a long and happy life.” I described more, that I have cancer, a very small tumor in my breast, and that I will have surgery on June 26th likely followed by 6 weeks of radiation treatments. I never know what to expect of Zoey in reacting to different things. Her response? “Can I meet the surgeon?” I think that’s pretty darned sweet. I told her that we could probably arrange for that at my next meeting with him in a couple of weeks.

 

P.S. I may be asking one of you all to give her a ride back to school after she has a chance to meet Dr. Beatty. It’s my pre-op appointment and John will probably want to stay for the whole thing.

The results from the MRI I did earlier today are back already! The purpose of the MRI was to see if there was any evidence of cancer not detected by the other tests. The results of the MRI showed no new issues. Dr. Beatty called himself. (Maybe I was wrong before assuming that the physician only calls with bad news). So, this is some good news after a trifecta of bad news (abnormal screening mammogram, abnormal diagnostic mammogram, cancer indicating biopsy). It’s nice to break the streak of negative news. Knock on wood.

Today was quite an eventful day. We met with Dr. Beatty, the surgeon at Swedish Medical Center. He was excellent. My friend, Nancy, John, and I sat through a quite action packed presentation. He said that my tumor looked tiny, about 8mm in diameter. He said that it was slow growing and I’d probably had it for about two years. For those of you into staging, the current staging in 1B (between 5mm and 1cm and no apparent lymph node involvement.)

Dr. Beatty was quite impressive, very patient, experienced, and an excellent teacher. He was reassuring without appearing as if he were glossing over risks.

John was awesome, asking good questions, being there, and holding my hand. Nancy was terrific. She took notes on her laptop and then asked questions that I would never even have thought to ask such as “Should Elizabeth get an oncologist now or wait?” (Huh? I thought they were all oncologists, says the lady who just found out that she had cancer yesterday.)

So the probable treatment plan:

1) Surgery on 6/26. Most likely this will be a lumpectomy. Dr. Beatty will remove a piece of tissue about the size of the golf ball because he is trying to take out the tumor plus a 1 1/2 centimeter margin surrounding it.

2) Radiation treatment starting approximately 3 weeks later, daily for 6 weeks.

3) Hormone blocking medication. Lab tests indicate that my tumor’s growth is intensified by estrogen and progesterone. I will take this medication for approximately 3-5 years.

I also have a number of tests or results that are coming up:

1) I got a blood draw today. When I originally wrote this post, I thought the blood was for genetic testing to see if I had one of the known breast cancer causing genes. That thought turned out to be incorrect. I’m not quite sure what Friday’s blood was for. I’m sure they used it for good wholesome data gathering purposes that I will receive in a lab report. I blame my muddled brain at the time of the surgeon’s appointment.

2) I did an MRI today. (So proud of myself, too since I am a bit claustrophobic. Every time I see an MRI machine on t.v., I think, “I really don’t want to go into one of those unless they give me a sedative.” In addition to being enclosed, they are also loud. They also don’t want you to do deep breathing because that messes up the imaging. Fortunately, it was not as bad as I thought it would be. Oh wait, I didn’t tell you what the MRI was for. The MRI is used as another way to make sure there aren’t any other tumors in other places.

So that’s enough mumbo jumbo for now.

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I had a routine screening mammogram on 5/7/12 at the mobile mammogram unit (a mobile home that travels around the Swedish Neighborhood Clinics in Seattle) for Swedish Comprehensive Breast Center. By early the next week, the main Swedish office called to schedule a diagnostic mammogram, which I had on 5/17. I underwent the mammogram and an ultrasound. On the same day, the radiologist who had completed the mammogram told me that there was a very small area of tissue in my right breast that didn’t look like the rest of the tissue. She recommended an ultrasound guided biopsy. I had the biopsy done on 5/22.

Today is May 24th. At about 10 am, the radiologist called to tell me the results of the biopsy. As soon as she identified herself, I figured that the biopsy showed malignancy. Why would they have a physician call with news that the results were benign? That’s a lot of phone calls plus people receiving that happy news probably wouldn’t have technical questions. Anyway, the doctor, whose name still escapes me, told me that I have the most common kind of breast cancer, invasive ductal carcinoma. Based on the imaging, the size of the tumor appears to be 1 cm but they won’t really know until surgery.

Within an hour, I was contacted by Dr. Beatty’s office to schedule a 1 1/2 hour long consultation about surgery, at 10 am tomorrow. I was happy to hear that I was referred to Dr. Beatty as he was highly recommended to me by my friend, Nancy, a cancer survivor and fellow psychologist who worked for four years overseeing cancer support groups in Seattle. When I told her what I knew, she was extremely reassuring and said (paraphrasing a bit), “Your cancer sounds straight-forward and boring. All of the surgeons at Swedish have done thousands of surgeries like this.” Then she said, “Well, I know it’s not boring to you” but I said, “I like to hear that my cancer sounds boring.” I do not want to be the star of a medical text book, no thank you. Nancy also offered to change her client schedule to be at the surgeons appointment with us. I am so grateful.

The last fact for today is that my hubby and I decided to wait until tomorrow to tell our 13 year-old daughter about this. We don’t want to tell her today and then send her off to school tomorrow. I hope the conversation goes as well as can be expected.

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The purpose of this blog is twofold. First, the obvious reason is that writing about having cancer will be therapeutic for me. Thanks to my mom for the idea. Second, it gives all of you loved ones, whom I invited to this blog, an opportunity to get an update on what is going on and how things are going. I am keeping my last name off of the blog so that it doesn’t come in people’s Google searches for information about my professional services. I’d rather not have one of the first things that people learn about me is that I have breast cancer. I haven’t hidden my health status from people in my practice, the parents anyway, but I would rather explain it to people directly.

Finally, since I am a psychologist in private practice, I know how to communicate with authority, as if I know what I am talking about. And in my job, I have the knowledge to back it up. However, in my blog, I talk about medical issues. So although I am knowledgeable about medical stuff for someone who does not work in medicine, please don’t confuse my know-it-all communication style with actual actual expertise. I am learning as I go along and often go back to correct errors in my posts after I’ve learned more. And then there are the mistakes I make that I don’t catch. Moreover, cancer is not one illness and even for breast cancer, there are multiple different diseases. And even for those of you who might also have, or know someone with ductal carcinoma, every case is different. But the common element among all individuals with cancer is the stress of facing a life threatening illness while still trying to be a full person, not just a cancer patient. So whether you and I are in the same boat or if a loved one is in this boat, I send you my most healing prayers and wishes.

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

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George Lakoff

George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. His newest book "The Neural Mind" is now available.

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