Cute Plastic Surgeons and the Mighty Middle Finger

Here we are, the end of another year. 2013 has come with it's share of challenges, that's for sure. But I can't say it's been all bad. To highlight the positive aspects of 2013, I must include my husband's graduation from nursing school and subsequent move back to Tucson from Oklahoma. The move to the bigger house topped off the summer, followed by his getting a job as an RN. This fall I transferred to a trauma unit at my hospital where I'm sure I would be very happy to work as trauma is in my blood. I looooove trauma! Ya know, in a nurse kind of way. You see, I only worked on my new unit for 5 weeks. Then I had my mastectomy and haven't been back to work since. Funny how life can change in the blink of an eye. The normal life that you once had takes on a new "normal" and you forget your old normal life. 

For instance, I can't remember what it's like to sleep on my side or stomach. I can't remember what real boobs feel like, as these suckers are high and hard and have no cleavage. I can't remember the wonderful feeling of taking my bra off at the end of a busy day because these expanders are like wearing an iron bra...all the time. I constantly have to worry about getting an infection or getting sick because my weak immune system can't fight these things off. My new "normal" involves drinking a gritty cocktail of Glutamine powder 3 times a day to help stave off side effects. It involves juicing, making healthy smoothies, not eating too much sugar, eliminating (almost completely) all alcohol, controlling diarrhea, keeping hydrated, and fighting the worst acne of my life. Oh! And monitoring the hair that falls from my head and obsessing over when the day will come that I shave my head. 

The sad part is, I forget how to be a nurse. I'm scared to go back to work because I feel like I have forgotten. With this chemo brain fog, I feel like I can't be a good, safe nurse. Hell, I fail at every day activities (my husband has "funny" stories), there's no way I can hold someone's life in my hands. I know that it's not my fault, and I know that I just need to concentrate on my recovery but I just want my old life back. I appreciate the perspective I've gained by having cancer and going through this treatment but I'm afraid I'll never be the same. Maybe that's a good thing. I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason and I'm not arguing against that at all. I guess I just hope I can go back to nursing soon and start my new "normal" life, whatever that is. 

So on Friday I saw my plastic surgeon. I figured, while I'm going through chemo, I'll start my expander fills again. I planned on doing 100cc a month until I liked the size and then wait for surgery in the Spring. Well he put the kabash on that real quick! He very gently explained to me in a "you're a nurse, you should know this but I'm going to humor you" kind of way that due to chemo, my tissues won't heal and so why would we stretch skin and muscle and everything else with no hope that those tissues will heal from the trauma. See! I can't be trusted with my own health, let alone the health of a total stranger! It's a good thing my surgeon is sweet and cute, otherwise I'd be mad at him for patronizing me. I guess someone needs to point out the moments when I'm thinking like a total idiot. 

Tomorrow I go for my fourth chemo infusion. I really like the Cancer Center and I'm thinking that may be my new career choice once I'm healed. My favorite part of being a nurse is getting to know my patients and being a part of their lives, seeing them get better or comforting them if they get worse. The Cancer Center is all about that. It's definitely something I will think about over the next few months. Until then, I have a date with an oncology nurse every Tuesday for the next 9 weeks. 

Cheers and the middle finger to 2013! See ya next year :) 

 

Scars and bandannas and wigs...oh my!

As we very rapidly approach Christmas, it dawns on me. This is the first year in a long time that I haven't been stressed about Christmas. Don't get me wrong, I still hate the traffic. I still hate the pressure. I still worry about not having enough money. But this year, I haven't let it get to me. All of the same pressures and frustrations are still there. But this year, I don't care. Funny how having cancer really puts life into perspective. Yes, this sounds cliche' but it's also very true. It has taught me very quickly to let go of the things that I cannot change and concentrate on what I can.

Take for instance, my hair. Since I found out that I need chemo, I have been preparing myself for the inevitable hair loss. I know that it's going to happen and I've researched scarves and turbans and have purchased a few fun wigs. I look at myself in the mirror wearing the wigs and I see a stranger. They're not me. I can't change that I have cancer, so why try to disguise it? Cancer has given me scars too. I'm proud of my scars, it means that I fought a battle and survived. While it's not socially acceptable to show them off (your welcome), it is ok to go bald or wear a scarf. While it may get me looks of pity ("poor woman, she must have cancer. She's so young!"), I'd rather be bald or wear a bandanna. I don't want to cover it up with pretty blonde (itchy) ringlets, pretending it doesn't exist. I will wear my ugly bald head proudly (with pretty accessorized bandanas!)

The doctor told me that I would probably lose my hair sometime after the third infusion, which for me is on Christmas Eve...tomorrow. It's funny because whenever I wash my hair or pull it back into a ponytail, I imagine the day when I will be holding it in my hands as it comes out in clumps. While this may sound scary to most people, for me it will be a relief. I can shave my head and get it over with and move on with my life. I've been educated on the side effects of my chemo and each day I take inventory of my mind and my body to see what the poison has done to me. Losing my hair is just an item to be checked off the list, along with mouth sores, blurry vision, brain fog and numbness in my fingers that have already staked a claim. 

Cancer is an evil bitch. In order to fight her, it requires the use of weapons that rob women of all that they hold dear, their vanity. Well Cancer, you can have my boobs and leave me with scars.  You can have my hair and leave me to wear scarves. But in the end, I will have fabulous foobs and my hair will grow back. And I will be a much stronger woman because of it. 

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night! 

Drunk goggles...and other side effects

Yay, you came back! Since you know a little bit about me now, there's no need for a novel to be written each time I blog (but there's no guarantee that won't happen. I tend to get carried away). Whew! Now, down to business...

Ya know the book/movie "Tuesdays with Morrie?" Well my life is going to be titled "Tuesdays with Nancy." Nancy is the nurse who accesses my port and draws my blood each week, to make sure my blood counts haven't dropped too low to receive chemo. She's "been a nurse forever, before they had these cool ports." She is excited that I'm a nurse and my husband is a nurse so she doesn't have to explain what she's about to do (it's a sterile procedure). When I leave Nancy, we begin the waiting game for an infusion chair to open up. As we sit in the lobby, I look around the room at all of the other people waiting. I like to people watch. And I like to eavesdrop (at least I admit it!). We are all so different yet very much the same. Our common bond is that something is trying to kill us and we are all here with the intention to destroy our bodies and our minds in an attempt to out-smart this killer. Some of us will win. Some of us will not. Sad but true.

So, I finally had my second chemo infusion. Not nearly as nerve wracking as the first one and I was much more awake this time AND I had a private room this week. Despite only getting 3 hours of sleep the night before due to a marathon of NCIS-LA on the USA channel that I couldn't seem to turn off, I managed to stay awake through 80% of my infusion. During my awake hours, I found out that I went to high school with the charge nurse and that a gal I work with was in the infusion suite next to me getting treatment herself. Small world! As I perused Facebook and Pinterest and watched a little Bethenny and Dr. Oz, the chemo and other drugs infused into the little disc in my chest. Despite being so sleepy, the steroid they gave me prior to my chemo had me amped up. I couldn't sleep. That could have something to do with the chattiness of my infusion nurse as well (note to self...take earbuds next time). My sweet husband sat in the uncomfortable chair next to me, feet propped up on the biohazard bin, plugged into a movie on Netflix, oblivious to my boredom. I really should take advantage of 3.5 uninterrupted hours in a recliner. That's prime napping time. But I never was much of a napper.

This week's side effects are brought to you by Jack Daniels. Just kidding. Seriously though, I swear it feels like I 'm wearing drunk goggles. If you haven't had the opportunity to use the "drunk goggles" that some institutions use to teach kids what it's like to be drunk, you really should. Unless of course you know what it's really like to be drunk, then you get the point. I'm dizzy, my nose is stuffy, my throat is sore, my mouth is sore and my tongue feels like I took a drink of too hot coffee. Not to mention my fingertips and toes are slightly numb. And everything tastes like shit! And this vision thing is going to make me crazy. Everything is blurry! I took my son to school this morning because he missed his bus due to a bloody nose (again). I worried for both of our lives the whole way! I can see large objects, such as cars. But I can't read street signs or license plates. If it's further than 12 inches away, it's a blur. I looked up the side effects of Taxol (my chemo) and low and behold, blurry vision is a side effect (that affects very few people). Lucky me! However, blurry vision et al. vs. nausea and vomiting...I'll take what I got! I just need a seeing eye dog. I wonder if Jack, my very large Dane/Mix puppy, can be trained? Thank God for a teenage driver to chauffeur me around when the hubs is at work. Won't break his heart to tote his blind mom all over town, as long as it involves lunch.

“I give myself a good cry if I need it, but then I concentrate on all good things still in my life.” 
― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays With Morrie

This Blogger's Maiden Voyage

I have been tinkering with the idea of having a blog since being diagnosed with Breast Cancer on Sept. 11, 2013. I set up this blog back in September and haven't posted since. I love to write and find it therapeutic to talk about my situation but when putting it in writing, I become very critical of myself. I worry about what others will think when reading it. I worry about my grammar. I worry I will offend someone with the thoughts in my head that I want to express in writing. I read other people's blogs and love their candid, no-holds-barred approach to revealing what's on their mind. So today, I decided...Fuck it. This is my cancer. This is my blog. If I want to swear, I will. If I want to feel sorry for myself, I will. If I want to celebrate, I will. If I want to rant about stupid shit, I will. I tend to have a sick and twisted sense of humor. It goes with the territory of being a nurse, being married to a nurse and being the mother of 3 boys. 

A little history to get you started (Cliff Notes version)...

My husband and I just recently graduated from nursing school, myself in May, 2012 and him in May of this year. Keep in mind, we are both in our 40's. Many unfortunate life events caused us to have to file bankruptcy, foreclose on our family home and lose everything we had. In order to get our lives back in order and support our 3 boys, we both opted to make the tough choice to go back to college. After 5 years of blood, sweat and tears and a whole lot of sacrifice, we both graduated college with our RN, BSN. 

Which brings us to...

We both landed jobs as nurses at the facility of our choice. We had dreams of getting back on our feet, being able to buy our own home, take our kids on vacation, have a REAL Christmas that didn't involve robbing Peter to pay Paul. Before we could even rack up a couple of dual-income paychecks and get ahead on bills, September 11, 2013 hit. While the world recalled where they were when the twin towers were attacked on September 11, 2001, I sat in my GYN office and listened as she carefully explained to me and my husband that I have Breast Cancer. That day, attack of the twin towers took on a whole new meaning. I don't mean to sound cheeky or insensitive but it's kind of ironic to me. 

Once the family was informed, tears were shed, a plan was made. Get this shit outta me, no matter what. I opted (insisted) on a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Weirdly enough, I was the calm one in the family. I wasn't scared or nervous. Can't say the same about everyone else around me. Although on a few drunk tequila nights, I did lose my mind a time or two but I blame that on the tequila. When sober, I could keep it together. No more tequila.

On October 25, 2013, I underwent a bilateral mastectomy with lymph node dissection. Surgery went fine, recovery went fine. Lymph nodes were negative for Cancer-woo hoo! The worst part of my recovery has been the nasty ass JP drains that hung from my body for 3 weeks and the liquid filled bricks (tissue expanders), that take up space where my boobs used to be. Otherwise, my recovery has been fairly uneventful. What people don't tell you is that you can't lie flat in bed during recovery. It's too painful. I spent 6 weeks (and occasionally still spend a night or 3) in a La-Z-Boy chair. Best thing ever! During the time I was recovering from surgery, I (impatiently) awaited an appointment with the medical oncologist to determine the next stage of my treatment. And in the meantime, I went to my plastic surgeon weekly to inject more saline into the bricks in my chest to help stretch my muscles and skin to make room for my new "foobs" (fake boobs). One thing you need to know is nothing is ever black and white for me. There's almost always a gray area of my life where things tend to hang out. It's never "this" or "that". It's always a "not quite this" or "not quite that". This is where my pathology report findings were hiding. We knew I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma Grade 2. I am ER+ PR+ which means that my cancer feeds off of estrogen and progesterone. It's my HER2/neu status that remained on the fence. Unfortunately this finding determines the need for chemotherapy. And my finding was 2+ which lands in the gray area of "could or could not" need chemo. Lucky for me, my wonderful new medical oncologist didn't like this "gray area" and sent my sample to the "specialist of all specialists" and this time the findings came back concrete. The actual result was not 2+ as originally thought but 3+ meaning my cancer is aggressive. I bet you can guess what this means...I get to ride the chemotherapy train. 

"Foobs" will now have to wait...

Since chemotherapy is now in my cancer regimen, my plans for surgery to replace the water bricks in my chest with soft silicone "foobs" has been put on hold until Spring. And I've put the expander fills on hold as well. 475cc is a pretty decent size to hang out at while I see how this chemo thing is going to affect me. The silver lining is, I actually have something that looks like boobs (but more square...and uneven) and I don't have to (and DON'T) wear a bra. 

And here we are in "chemo-ville"...

On December 17, 2013, I reported to the Cath Lab of the hospital where I work. I had a port placed into my right chest just above my expander (more fake bumps). This round disc, roughly the size of a quarter, lies just under my skin and runs into a vein in my neck that ends close to my heart where it will stay for at least a year. This is where the toxic chemicals that are intended to kill my cancer will enter my body. Still quite sedated from the port placement, my husband and I headed over to the Cancer Center for my very first chemotherapy infusion. I must admit, this is the very first time I've been truly scared of what's to come. Anyone who knows me, knows that I don't do nausea and especially vomiting well. Not that it's pretty for anyone but I literally CANNOT throw up. My body makes the most grotesque noises when attempting to heave but nothing ever comes out. Not quite sure why, but I've been this way for years. I'm prepared to lose my hair, I'm prepared to be tired. I am NOT prepared to get sick. My oncologist assures me that the type of chemo I will be getting is not known for causing nausea and vomiting. I'm totally counting on this to be true. I can handle anything else. Infusion #1 went off without a hitch. Mostly because I was asleep the whole time. In addition to the sedating drugs given when my port was placed, they gave me Benadryl and Decadron prior to starting my chemo. These are intended to combat any possible reactions that may or may not occur due to the poisons that they would be putting into my body. I was also given Ativan (an anti-anxiety drug), because apparently many people are anxious about their first chemo infusion (go figure!). All of the above mentioned drugs are sedating so you can imagine I probably looked like Molly Ringwald's sister on her wedding day in the movie "Sixteen Candles". 

The side effects from chemo #1 were pretty mild as far as I can tell. The next day, my face was swollen and felt sunburned. I felt drained but not sleepy. I had some mild aches through the week but mostly, I just felt like I had a mild flu. I was able to attend my son's Christmas band concert. He and his drum line all wore a pink bandana in my honor. Proud mom moment! I was able to Christmas shop and live a mostly normal existence. I've heard of the "chemo brain fog" but didn't imagine that it would hit so quickly and now I'm scared of the "fog" to come. The next morning after my first infusion, I was scrambling up some eggs. I went to the fridge to get the milk to add it to my eggs. I shook the bottle to get it all to the opening (is this necessary with milk?) Before I could realize what I was doing, I had dumped chocolate Hershey's syrup into my eggs. My husband will NOT let me live this down. I have had a few of these out of body experiences. Not one of my proudest moments. 

And now here we are...

Which brings you to this week in my cancer journey which will be unfolded in the next chapter of "when life hands you lemons." If you made it this far in my blog, thank you for reading. I hope to continue writing throughout my journey, as my brain cells allow. Stay tuned...