Protected: Orange River Grafting
As in Bugs Bunny’s on my butt, in band aid form. Peggy, one of the nurses at Swedish Cancer Institute, put it there after she gave me a Lupron shot. This one is good for three months instead of one month like the two previous shots. I can feel the difference. I also have a Daffy Duck band aid on my upper left arm. Peggy also gave me a flu shot. I have a simple gauze and paper tape dressing over the inner bend of my elbow. That’s from my blood draw. The phlebotomists are old school. Too bad because if they’d given me a Porky Pig band aid I would have had a Warner Brothers’ trinity on my left side.
Last but not least, I have gauze and dressing over the small portion of missing skin on my breast. I found out yesterday that I lost all of the skin in a little area. Dr. Welk told me that what I had been looking at and thinking was deeper skin was actually subcutaneous fat. That was mildly disconcerting since I was unaware that I had been peering at a deeper layer of my insides all this time. He also told me that the skin would heal from the edges in by forming a bridge over the wound. That skin will not form connections to the fat below, however, He did say that the area had revascularized (the blood supply has returned to the area) and the tissue was granulated (a stage of tissue healing), which are good things.
Overall, Dr. Welk was happy with how things were proceeding so he added a bunch of saline to my tissue expander. He did, however, recommend that I have about a square centimeter of skin grafted from my abdomen to my breast. In his usual way he said, “It’s no big deal. It’s just a pinch of skin. It will take less than 20 minutes.” I was feeling brave so I said, “Dr. Welk, last time you told me something was only going to take 5 minutes, it hurt like Hell.” He said, “This won’t even hurt like Heck.” “How about Purgatory?,” I pressed. “Not even like Purgatory. No big deal.”
So I agreed. I met with Dr. Rinn for my medical oncology appointment and she also said she thought it was a good idea because it would reduce risk of infection. So I had a good appointment with her, got my shots, scheduled my next appointment for next January (yay, three months away!), and went home.
This afternoon, I’m going to see if Dr. Welk is right about this little “no big deal” skin graft. If he’s wrong, I’m not just going to give him Heck, I’m going to give him Hell! 🙂
T minus 5 months, that is. At long last, I have scheduled my TRAM surgery date. If all goes as expected, it will be on March 11th. Yes, that’s a long time from now but it was the earliest available surgery date and I am fine with waiting. For one, I need to make some money to pay for it! This way, I’ll get to enjoy the holidays as well as my 23rd wedding anniversary on March 10th. Almost more importantly, I should be able to enjoy the summer of 2013, more so during the summer of 2012, which included three surgeries between June 27th and August 8th followed by a medical leave that lasted until September 10th. I spent the majority of that summer in and out of the hospital and then another month in recovery. I’ll need to take some time off after this next surgery, I’m thinking at least four weeks.
I had a particularly good appointment with Dr. Welk today. He asked me a bunch of questions about what it’s like for me to be a psychologist. He is usually not very chatty. Maybe he ate his Wheaties today!
Ha! If you found this blog entry via Google when you were looking for some porn, you have been punked! This is a middle-aged lady’s breast cancer blog. And when you add the word “cancer” to the name of a body part, even an ordinarily sexy one like the breast loses its allure. Now to my other blog readers, if you are worried about my glee in naming a post “fun in bed” and fantasizing about leading porn readers to my site, let me explain.
A few years ago, I was searching on Google for “free holiday clip art.” I was trying to find border art for our annual Christmas letter. You know, just another day in the life of a mom and wife, engaged in a wholesome family-oriented activity. So I saw a link titled, “Free holiday clipart. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Valentine’s Day.” I clicked on it and much to my horror, I entered a couple’s home made porn site! Aaaaaaaaagh, my eyes! And by the way, they were not cute. And double by the way, if I were ever to meet these folks, I would say, “I have a little suggestion for you to help improve your photographic skills. I’m glad you have a zoom on your camera but a tight shot like that really detracts from the subject. You might want to zoom out a little and use a light diffusing filter. You may also want to take future photos with the lens cap on. And, Dude, so sorry about your scar. The trauma you must have experienced with a circumcision gone awry. Other than that, big props on keeping it spicy in the bed room!”
And if you feel sorry for these people, don’t. I was lured to this site. For those of you who are unfamiliar with how websites are set up, let me explain. There are these things called “meta tags” that you attach to your website. Basically, they are key words. People can’t see them but when they use them in their Internet searches, they will be directed to your site. For example, for my business website, I assigned meta tags such as “psychologist”, “child psychologist”, “ADHD”, “Seattle”, etc. That helps people find my site when they search through Google or another search engine. So yes, that means that these do-it-yourself porn stars assigned “holiday clipart” as a meta tag to their site!!!!!!!!! They were just waiting for some unsuspecting mom to click on their link and view them in their gory glory!
Okay, so now that I have successfully accomplished my revenge on Internet porn, I’ll tell you the real story behind the title for this post. First, I had quite interesting dreams last night. In one of them, I traveled to some European country, it was probably Hungary since John was just there. However, in my dream it was a country that hosted the winter Olympics recently, as I was informed by a tour guide. I visited a mountainous area where the games were held. It was filled with glass sculptures (suspiciously Chihuly-esque) and there was a mountain in the background. It was a stunning scene so I started taking pictures. Of course, as soon as I started taking pictures it became instantly dark outside. The rest of the country tour was interesting. Despite the alpine climate, the area was full of tropical plants like palm trees. I remember thinking, “Wow, this is weird. Why is it warm with palm trees in Europe during this time of year?” Also, in the tour, we were doing a helicopter tour at times and a bus tour at other times. On the bus tour, we saw lots of architecture. However, the buildings were really cartoonish and the whole vibe was more like a Disney park. Maybe I’d made it to Euro Disney. (Hmm, I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that my husband’s business trip to Hungary was for his job at Disney. Let me ponder that one for a few hours.)
I remember less from the second dream but I have no idea where it came from. I was in college and Natalie Portman was one of my dorm mates. And she was famous in the dream. She was trying to get me to buy this special kind of underwear that she favored. They had a liner and an outer layer, which looked like a pair of board shorts. They were really bulky and dumb looking. Natalie enthused, “If you buy some, we can share!” I said, “Gee, Natalie I’m don’t really want to share underwear with you.” She clarified that she only meant the board short part. I was not convinced and also pointed out that we also would not wear the same size. I forget what else happened. Aha, I just pieced together the random thoughts that created this dream. I’m not going to say anything, I’ll let all of you speculate on my unconscious.
Finally, my last big of “fun in bed” occurred when I was doing my mindfulness meditation. Ollie, our monster-sized cat, decided that he needed some attention. Suddenly, I feel his full weight on me, including on my abdominal incisions. Not super painful but not my favorite, either. Then he started sniffing my face which is his greeting and request for petting. He got bored and jumped off of me. A few moments later, he did a do over and he was on me again. Ordinarily, I would have stopped what I was doing (meditating) because I wasn’t “doing it right.” Instead, I kept meditating and instead of trying to block him out, I tried to calmly notice what was going on. (That’s part of mindfulness.) So I thought, “Now Ollie has jumped on my abdominal incisions. Observing, without judgment, I’ve go to say that it hurts a little, etc.” I kid a little, especially about the “observing without judgment” part (it’s an ever present catch phrase in mindfulness). But I have to say that it worked in making what would usually be an irritating experience into a useful and slightly humorous exercise. It was a good start to the day.
Protected: Thanksgiving
As you know, I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself for the last few weeks. Yesterday, I was quite overwhelmed with the combination of work, family, and self-care responsibilities. The next two weeks are jam-packed perhaps even more so.
It’s time for me to put my blessings in the foreground:
-I have wonderful friends and family, whom I love greatly.
-I have a great chance at a long and healthy life.
-I have good health insurance.
-Today is my dad’s 80th birthday! Both of his parents died in their 50’s, making this a particularly big deal.
-I am making new self-care habits that make me feel better now, emotionally and physically, and will also help protect me from future illness.
-I love my job.
-My daughter is happy at high school.
-Despite all of the changes and stress in my life including instant menopause, I have lost 27 pounds since May 5th! In 3 pounds, I will officially enter the “healthy weight” category using the BMI.
-I have this blog as an outlet. It helps me now and I imagine it will help me in the future, as I look back at this period of my life.
-I have wonderful healthcare providers. Plus most of them are really nice, as well as technically skilled.
-I live and work in a great community.
-I am a strong and reliant person.
-God is love and love is great. God is great!
I know there are more but I am starting to feel better.
I had back to back appointments with both of my surgeons today. My skin has continued to heal and the fluid build up problem appears to be subsiding. So using “The Little Engine That Could” alarm scale, my skin healing situation has gone from “I think I can” to “I know I can.”
There is a chance that Dr. Welk will recommend a minor surgical procedure to graft a small piece of skin from my abdomen to the troublesome skin (about 1 inch wide by 2 inches long) but we seemed to have avoided any need for radical measures.
Fingers crossed.
Well Count Dracula may have wanted it, but I’m not sure about the phlebotomists at Swedish Medical Center. Actually, they do, but they are short-handed. I’m at my neighborhood clinic for a blood draw. My naturopath wants to check my vitamin D levels (very important Northwest people, and for more than breast cancer), my thyroid, and my vitamin B12 levels. My fabulous internist agreed to order the lab work so my insurance will pay for it, since my plan doesn’t cover naturopathy. (It does, however, cover acupuncture.)
The waiting room is full. There are just enough seats for the number of people in the room, all of whom are waiting for blood work. There are three seats empty, however. Three of the men are standing because how better to make time fly than to be on your feet for 45 minutes? I’ll stop being mean. Maybe they have bad backs or something. Or maybe they have compromised immune systems and don’t want to sit in the chairs so close to the other patients. Wait, one of the stand up guys hasn’t taken his heavy looking Boeing briefcase off of his shoulder. He is also hovering close to the sign in desks. Given that he is carrying excess weight and is brave enough to hover close to the potentially germy people at the sign up desk, I feel comfortable calling him, “Impatient” and judging him silently in my mind. Taking time to negatively judge a fellow human helps me pass approximately 50 seconds of wait time.
Hey, a lady just sat next to me and asked how long I’d been waiting. I respond, “About 15 minutes.” Then I try to ensnare engage her with my scintillating small talk. She responds, but only with politeness and no apparent interest. Foiled again, but that 90 seconds just seemed to fly by. Oh hey, an older lady takes a seat across the aisle and starts to talk to me. She seems to have real possibilities! She makes a comment about someone being so happy to have their name called. Then she makes a little sideways nod, smiles, and makes a small raspberry-like noise as if to say, “Can you believe this crazy world we live in? I, for one am determined to enjoy it.” After awhile, I realize that she is not consistently coherent, says the same phrase when each person goes to get their blood drawn. The head move and raspberry noise are repeated. In other words, instead of saying, “Can you believe this crazy world we live in”, she is saying, “I have a combination of vocal and motor tics.” While I’m digesting this, I do feel a little bit happy that her neurological issues give her a certain flair and noting her leopard print socks and colorful clothing, decide that despite the tics, her personality is coming through. Maybe she really is making a positive statement about life while simultaneously experiencing tics. This is what I choose to believe and the animal print clothing clinches the deal. My combined mental efforts as an amateur neurologist, fashion observer, and self-deluder took up at least 30 minutes. Goooooal!!
My name is called. I have a short conversation with a very pleasant phlebotomist with gnarly tattos. Noting that there is evidence of multiple recent needle marks in my arm he says, “Good times.” I tell him about my cancer. that I am doing well, and that I am getting excellent care at Swedish. He says something generic but it is communicated with an air of hipster sweetness so I feel supported. All in all, the blood draw and conversation take less than 3 minutes.
My total wait time was 50 minutes. It was not so bad. I am trying to think about time and waiting differently these days and it seems to be working. I also try to make sure that I don’t try to squeeze medical appointments into my schedule.
If they hired one vampire they could take care of this problem, stat. Just sayin’.
I forgot to mention the lovely fact that my breast looks like it is jaundiced or has carotene poisoning or something. This is because during surgery, Dr. Welk used betadine as an antiseptic, which contains iodine. Dr. Beatty, my breast cancer surgeon, never did that so I wasn’t expecting to be re-traumatized once again by having a part of my body turned Oompa Loompa color. It is a pretty wonky boob at this stage of the game and wonky is close to “Wonka” so hey, life is just having a little word play on me because it knows I’m always on the look out for good blog material. Maybe they’ve been reading my blog over at the Polyclinic and they actually used Clairol Basic Instincts, “Dark Auburn,” instead of betadine. (I’m totally kidding, wonderful people at the Polyclinic. I know you would never ever do something like that. I’m just getting my daily dose of humor about my breast cancer. Tee hee hee! Ho ho ho!!!)
I read online that hydrogen peroxide would take it off. It took off a little so now it’s slightly more yellow than orange. My skin is really sensitive so I should probably just leave it along for a few more days. But again, I blame Roald Dahl.
Couples will say, “We’re pregnant”, but they don’t say “We have cancer.” For the record, I hated the phrase, “We’re pregnant.” “We’re expecting a baby.” That’s fine. There’s only one person who is pregnant. I would never want to have missed out on the experience of pregnancy, but I’ve got to say that most of it from a physical standpoint was terrible. This was not due to a bad attitude on my part. I believe this blog attests to my positivity in the face of adversity. I very much wanted to get pregnant, especially since the first almost year long period that we tried to conceive a few years before, was unsuccessful. Every pregnancy is different but I was beyond fatigued, nauseous, and throwing up until I was 5 months pregnant. I remember taking a short walk across the Indiana University campus and having to sit on a bench for a couple of minutes because I’d gotten motion sickness from walking. After I hit the 5 month mark, I was fatigued, my brain was foggy, my legs ached if I stood still for more than a minute, and I had acid reflux unless I slept upright in a reclining chair. John was ecstatic to be a dad and was wonderful most of the time. It was a stressful time for both of us, though. We hadn’t settled down to a geographic area and John was really sick of moving around the country after different academic positions. He really wanted to go back to Seattle. There was also anxiety about the health of the baby and becoming parents. There were times, when John’s anxiety and stress got the better of him. He once complained that I was walking too slowly (at 8 months pregnant), twisted my arm into going hiking with his parents (I was 8 months pregnant. I slept in the car, in the 90 degree heat, with the windows and doors open), and he once asked me when I was going to start making money. Yes, I am making him look like an a-hole. I also acted like an a-hole from time to time maybe even more frequently than he did. But I did feel, whether fairly or not, that it was his job to “be the better person” because I was bearing the load of, well the child-bearing.
So I have cancer. It impacts the family. My husband has a lot of care-giving responsibilities that he hasn’t had before. He’s got to deal with his own fears about my health as well as his fears that he does not take care of me well enough. (He did have the courtesy this time to get sick before my surgery instead of afterwards.) Our friend, Michelle, who is a psychologist who specializes in treating cancer patients and their spouses, told me that cancer is as hard or harder on the spouse. In many ways I can see how my disease has infiltrated my family and larger social network. So one could say, “We have cancer.” After five surgeries, countless blood draws, meds, radioactive substances, shots in the butt to “shut down my ovaries”, “We have cancer” sounds a lot like “We’re pregnant.” I have cancer. It’s me.
This reminds me of the show, Thirty-Something when the character, Nancy had ovarian cancer. She got involved in a support group and got kind of carried away with a friend she made in the group. The friend was saying things to the effect that having cancer was cool. Nancy was spending a lot of time away from her husband and kids. When her husband, Elliot, complained that their son, Ethan missed their mom, she said something to the effect, “You don’t know what it’s like to have cancer.” Elliot’s response was something like, “No, but Ethan knows a lot about what it’s like to have a mom with cancer.” He actually made a nice little heart felt speech and woke Nancy out of what was depicted as a somewhat self-absorbed reverie. I remember agreeing with his point when I watched the show and empathizing with her.
It is times like these when I am not feeling well but still don’t look or act “sick enough” that I feel this pull the most. I’d like to say, “My eyes are down here” and be defined by the cancer because I feel a little overwhelmed by the expectations of my family and of my job. With my husband, there’s only so many times I can say, “Cut me some slack, I’m being treated for cancer.” It’s true that it’s harder for me to keep an even keel, bite my tongue, and otherwise behave like a mature person. But I still have the responsibility to try my hardest to do so, just as I expect from him.
It’s a tightrope walk and we’ve mostly done a really good job. But I worry some. The next surgery is going to be a lot harder. I’m going to need help getting up and down from bed and the couch, I’m guessing for several days. I know that we’ll get through it but I still feel anxiety about the whole thing.
Oh and did I tell you that increased anxiety has been a side effect of taking Percocet for pain? I’m hoping today is the last day I need to take it.
My Eyes Are Up Here 