For anyone who's seen the movie "Labyrinth" you will understand what I mean when I tell you I need to quit saying, "It's a piece of cake." I should have learned my lesson after my first chemo therapy treatment, which I felt wasn't nearly as bad as so many people had told me it would be. For the first few days I felt great, but then I ended up lying on my sister's floor, violently throwing up and spending nearly three days in the hospital recovering from nuetropenic fever. Just because something (particularly cancer treatment) starts off easy, doesn't mean it will stay that way.
Given how the first five weeks of radiation went, I thought it was going to cause nothing more than pink skin and fatigue for me, but this last week has proved quite different. Radiation burn gives the initial impression that it's like a sunburn; however, unlike a sunburn, it continues to get worse for quite a while after the area is no longer being radiated. I went from pink to fire-engine red under my arm and along the side of my breast, but figured that since my last week of radiation was not going to cover that area, it would begin to heal. Instead, it went from fire engine red to red-purple, to purplish gray, then it blistered, peeled, and blistered again. Even using the creams and soaks recommended by the doctor, moving my arm still makes me cringe in pain and wearing clothing hurts so bad I've gone around topless nearly 24/7 for the last five days (sorry, that's probably TMI).
The good news - Today was my last day of radiation!!! Now I have a break for a few weeks before I have surgery. Good thing, because I'll probably need that time to heal.
For any woman who might be having to experience radiation to the breast/underarm, I would like to offer one bit of advice: GET ELECTROLYSIS NOW BEFORE YOU HAVE TO GET RADIATION! Either that or go granola and grow out your underarm hair past the bristly stage. Bristly underarm hair is like searing needles against radiation burn; however, shaving is even worse. You can't win - so get laser hair removal while you can.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
My Radiation Oncologist's Office, aka The Tattoo Parlor
Today I got four tattoos on my chest. I know, I know, shocking for a prude like myself. I’ve never been particularly fond of the idea of a needle penetrating my skin and then having ink injected into it. It always seemed contaminating or toxic to me somehow. Plus, I never liked the idea of having something that permanent. I was sure I would wake up one morning and say, “What in the world was I thinking?”
These tattoos aren't that exciting, in fact, I can barely see them. They are, literally, just a single pinprick. I confess, for someone who never wanted a tattoo, I was a little disappointed when I saw how tiny they were. Certainly nothing big enough that I can whip them out in a bar when people start showing off their 'tats' - they would never show up under those dim bar lights.
So, you might ask, why even get these tattoos? Well, these little 'freckles' are my guides for the machine that gives me my daily dose of radiation. I lay under the machine, and the radiation techs shine a large red light that looks like a gigantic gun site on my body and align it with the marks, so that I only get radiation to the area of my body that needs it. The last few weeks I’ve been making due with blue Sharpie marks all over my chest, but I get some interesting looks when I wear V-cut tops, not to mention the fact that Sharpie smears in the shower. So call me a rebel - who knows, maybe next time I'll get a skull and crossbones.
These tattoos aren't that exciting, in fact, I can barely see them. They are, literally, just a single pinprick. I confess, for someone who never wanted a tattoo, I was a little disappointed when I saw how tiny they were. Certainly nothing big enough that I can whip them out in a bar when people start showing off their 'tats' - they would never show up under those dim bar lights.
So, you might ask, why even get these tattoos? Well, these little 'freckles' are my guides for the machine that gives me my daily dose of radiation. I lay under the machine, and the radiation techs shine a large red light that looks like a gigantic gun site on my body and align it with the marks, so that I only get radiation to the area of my body that needs it. The last few weeks I’ve been making due with blue Sharpie marks all over my chest, but I get some interesting looks when I wear V-cut tops, not to mention the fact that Sharpie smears in the shower. So call me a rebel - who knows, maybe next time I'll get a skull and crossbones.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Blog Begins...
I kept saying I’d do it, but believe it or not Grace, Stacy, and Robin (and anyone else I promised), after months of chemo fatigue and a few computer problems, I’m finally posting my blog. This first post will be pretty big since I wrote a few entries over the last several months, but didn’t ever get them online. If you want to read the entries in chronological order, scroll down to the bottom and work your way back up.
Flirting With Uncle Fester
Aug. 19, 2008
About a week ago, a guy flirted with me - I think. It's my first flirting experience since I started chemo four months ago and lost my hair. Talk about over analyzing! I managed to be pretty normal during the conversation, but when it ended, I couldn’t help wondering if it was a pity flirt, or if the guy had some freaky bald head fetish. Before this, I didn’t think I was really having any self-image issues, but I'm thinking there might have been a few buried in my subconscious (under being attacked by the neighbor's cat, seeing old men at the public pool in speedos, and other painful memories). I thought about the conversation I had with this guy several times this week, because I couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone genuinely flirting with me – I still can’t. They say that bald can be beautiful, but in terms of myself, I tend to think of it more as an advertisement for breast cancer awareness, and when I haven’t had enough sleep and I have dark circles under my eyes, I think of it as an advertisement for the ‘Addams Family’ (I kind of look like Uncle Fester). Thinking about the experience as I write this, I guess it would take a seriously brave or a seriously crazy guy to decide ‘I’m going to flirt with this girl that has cancer.’ Geez! *slap myself on the bald forehead* how did I let that guy get away?!
The Space Between ... My Blog Entries
August 15, 2008
MY LAST DAY OF CHEMO - HURRAY, WHOOPEE, HUZZAH! - I dance a little every time I say this, and sometimes hum Destiny's Child 'Survivor' (be SO glad I don’t have a webcam). I didn’t actually have my last treatment of Taxol, because my neuropathy was so bad my doctor was concerned another treatment might cause permanent nerve damage. I’m still getting over the numbness, burning, and tingling in my hands and feet, but I’m doing much better than I was a few weeks ago, and I’m in a great mood. I know I haven’t written much the last couple of months, but chemo has kind of worn me out. It seems like working 40 hours a week (most weeks, anyway) and touching base with family and friends has taken all the energy I could muster. I came back to Texas at the beginning of June and have been working with the doctors at Baylor (http://www.baylorhealth.com/locations/sammonscenter.htm)– another great academic hospital – to finish my cancer treatment. My wonderful medical oncologist, Dr. Joyce O'Shaughnessy, has a great tradition in her office: on your last day of chemotherapy, you sign the Chemo Graduation Book. It’s a place to put your advice to other women battling breast cancer, and to express your thanks. After I wrote my advice, I thought it might be a good thing to elaborate on and share on my blog. I know every person’s experience with cancer is different, but I found that when talking with other women going through breast cancer, we learn from each other, so I've posted my 'ways to cope with cancer' in one of the side boxes of this blog.
I Like Denial - It's Comfy Here
May 10, 2008 So, I think I had my first official breakdown last night. Since I was diagnosed with cancer, the only times I’ve cried were when I got emotional about the overwhelming amount of love and support from my family and friends, and when I first woke up from the mastectomy and felt like I couldn't breath because my chest had been torn apart (that sensation didn't last long - yea for intravenous pain killers!). Last night, I finally had the – wholly cow, I’m being treated for a life threatening illness, I fell nauseated, tired, and shaky, my chest is killing me, I don’t like my short hair, and in a week or two I’ll be completely bald – Cancer sucks! realization. I cried a little, but decided sleep would be a more productive activity. I was right - I'm feeling better about things this morning, It’s amazing what a few Z's can do for your attitude.
I’M A MUTANT! I Wonder If I Have Super Powers?
On April 29, my genetic testing came back positive for the BRCA1 mutation. This mutation gives me an 87% chance of getting breast cancer by the age of 70 (been there, done that), and about a 40-50% chance of getting ovarian cancer in my lifetime (plan to do everything I can to skip out on that party). The good news is that now that I know I have the mutation, my siblings can all get tested, because there’s a 50/50 chance they inherited the gene. Huntsman Cancer Institute has a High Risk Breast Cancer program that will do genetic testing and counseling for any of my female family members, and any males with daughters that are 18 or older, for free. Men are mainly carriers of the mutation. It increases their risk of breast cancer and prostate cancer, but only by a small fraction. If any of the women test positive for the mutation, they get yearly mammograms, breast MRI’s and other diagnostic tests for free. This can be especially helpful for younger women, since insurance often doesn’t pay for mammograms before the age of 40, and if you have the mutation, they recommend mammograms starting at age 25. We established that the mutation came from the maternal side of my Mom’s family – the Lovell’s. Apparently, they are currently the only known family in Utah that seems to exhibit this particular gene mutation. So, if any of you women reading this have Lovell blood or a family history of breast or ovarian cancer, contact Huntsman Cancer Institute and ask about the High Risk Breast Cancer Clinic (http://www.hopeguide.org/hope/TopicCMD.jac?topicID=10452). You can’t beat the price, and the peace of mind that prevention can give you is priceless. How’s that for advertising? I swear no one’s paying me, no one even asked me to, but I figure, if programs like this are available, I want to get the word out. With proper prevention and early detection, death from Breast Cancer could be nearly eradicated. Plus, the genetic counseling is really interesting. My sister, Stacy, attended one of my sessions and found it as interesting as I did. My friend, Melissa, attended my other session and laughed at me when she realized how much I was enjoying it. I couldn’t help it – the little slice of science nerd in me found it absolutely fascinating.
What do April Fool's Day, Halloween and Breast Cancer Have in Common?
May 9, 2008
After much persuasion from family and friends, I am finally jumping on the blog band wagon. I switched jobs and moved to Dallas, Texas a few months ago, and my life had been busy enough that I wondered if I would ever have the time to get this started, but sometimes, life puts little road blocks in your way that force you to slow down and take the occasional detour.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer on April Fool’s Day - no joke, although it is a bit ironic. For over a year, I had worked at University of Utah’s Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City, Utah. Last December, I said yes to a job offer with Bank of America in Dallas, moved, and started my new job in January. Three months after I stopped working at the cancer institute, I found out I had cancer.
I am now back in Salt Lake, going to Huntsman Cancer Institute (http://www.huntsmancancer.org/) for treatment. In my opinion, it’s probably the greatest cancer hospital on the planet –I’ve never been treated so well from a medical perspective. My breast cancer team includes my breast surgeon, Dr. Leigh Nuemayer, my plastic surgeon, Dr. Jay Agarwal, my medical oncologist, Dr. Saundra Buys, a host of nurses, interns/residents, genetic counselors and others – every one of whom has taken amazing care of me.
Last week, I had a bi-lateral, skin-sparing mastectomy, or in the words of my friend Melissa, 'I had my boobs scooped out like a jack-o-lantern at Halloween.' I’ve got unnaturally heavy saline implants in as temporary replacements until my reconstructive surgery. They’re like having rocks on your chest, so I’m a bit sore, but considering everything, I feel pretty good. I’ve been lucky enough to not have many of the self-image issues that come with breast cancer, at least not to any extreme. I’ve actually been a little bit excited about reconstruction – a tummy tuck and a boob job all in one shot, woo-hoo! With chemotherapy just started and complete hair loss on the horizon, we’ll see how things go, but right now my spirits are high.
I’ll be writing about my experience with cancer, but this isn’t going to be a breast cancer only blog. Breast cancer is not my life – it is not who I am – it is simply an obstacle that I am in the process of overcoming. I will jump on my soap box long enough to say: Women, do your self breast exams! Don’t use the ‘I’m too young to worry about breast cancer’ excuse. I was diagnosed at 31 and spent my 32nd birthday preparing to start chemo. My tumor was the most aggressive – grade 3, but because I went to the doctor when I found a lump, I caught it early enough that it hadn’t spread to anywhere else in my body. *stepping off my soap box*
I also have to do a shout out to all my incredible friends, family, and co-workers that have adjusted schedules, flown and driven in to Utah to visit, and everyone that has simply given kind words of support and much needed prayers. I couldn’t have done this without you – I love you all!
Flirting With Uncle Fester
Aug. 19, 2008
About a week ago, a guy flirted with me - I think. It's my first flirting experience since I started chemo four months ago and lost my hair. Talk about over analyzing! I managed to be pretty normal during the conversation, but when it ended, I couldn’t help wondering if it was a pity flirt, or if the guy had some freaky bald head fetish. Before this, I didn’t think I was really having any self-image issues, but I'm thinking there might have been a few buried in my subconscious (under being attacked by the neighbor's cat, seeing old men at the public pool in speedos, and other painful memories). I thought about the conversation I had with this guy several times this week, because I couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone genuinely flirting with me – I still can’t. They say that bald can be beautiful, but in terms of myself, I tend to think of it more as an advertisement for breast cancer awareness, and when I haven’t had enough sleep and I have dark circles under my eyes, I think of it as an advertisement for the ‘Addams Family’ (I kind of look like Uncle Fester). Thinking about the experience as I write this, I guess it would take a seriously brave or a seriously crazy guy to decide ‘I’m going to flirt with this girl that has cancer.’ Geez! *slap myself on the bald forehead* how did I let that guy get away?!
The Space Between ... My Blog Entries
August 15, 2008
MY LAST DAY OF CHEMO - HURRAY, WHOOPEE, HUZZAH! - I dance a little every time I say this, and sometimes hum Destiny's Child 'Survivor' (be SO glad I don’t have a webcam). I didn’t actually have my last treatment of Taxol, because my neuropathy was so bad my doctor was concerned another treatment might cause permanent nerve damage. I’m still getting over the numbness, burning, and tingling in my hands and feet, but I’m doing much better than I was a few weeks ago, and I’m in a great mood. I know I haven’t written much the last couple of months, but chemo has kind of worn me out. It seems like working 40 hours a week (most weeks, anyway) and touching base with family and friends has taken all the energy I could muster. I came back to Texas at the beginning of June and have been working with the doctors at Baylor (http://www.baylorhealth.com/locations/sammonscenter.htm)– another great academic hospital – to finish my cancer treatment. My wonderful medical oncologist, Dr. Joyce O'Shaughnessy, has a great tradition in her office: on your last day of chemotherapy, you sign the Chemo Graduation Book. It’s a place to put your advice to other women battling breast cancer, and to express your thanks. After I wrote my advice, I thought it might be a good thing to elaborate on and share on my blog. I know every person’s experience with cancer is different, but I found that when talking with other women going through breast cancer, we learn from each other, so I've posted my 'ways to cope with cancer' in one of the side boxes of this blog.
I Like Denial - It's Comfy Here
May 10, 2008 So, I think I had my first official breakdown last night. Since I was diagnosed with cancer, the only times I’ve cried were when I got emotional about the overwhelming amount of love and support from my family and friends, and when I first woke up from the mastectomy and felt like I couldn't breath because my chest had been torn apart (that sensation didn't last long - yea for intravenous pain killers!). Last night, I finally had the – wholly cow, I’m being treated for a life threatening illness, I fell nauseated, tired, and shaky, my chest is killing me, I don’t like my short hair, and in a week or two I’ll be completely bald – Cancer sucks! realization. I cried a little, but decided sleep would be a more productive activity. I was right - I'm feeling better about things this morning, It’s amazing what a few Z's can do for your attitude.
I’M A MUTANT! I Wonder If I Have Super Powers?
On April 29, my genetic testing came back positive for the BRCA1 mutation. This mutation gives me an 87% chance of getting breast cancer by the age of 70 (been there, done that), and about a 40-50% chance of getting ovarian cancer in my lifetime (plan to do everything I can to skip out on that party). The good news is that now that I know I have the mutation, my siblings can all get tested, because there’s a 50/50 chance they inherited the gene. Huntsman Cancer Institute has a High Risk Breast Cancer program that will do genetic testing and counseling for any of my female family members, and any males with daughters that are 18 or older, for free. Men are mainly carriers of the mutation. It increases their risk of breast cancer and prostate cancer, but only by a small fraction. If any of the women test positive for the mutation, they get yearly mammograms, breast MRI’s and other diagnostic tests for free. This can be especially helpful for younger women, since insurance often doesn’t pay for mammograms before the age of 40, and if you have the mutation, they recommend mammograms starting at age 25. We established that the mutation came from the maternal side of my Mom’s family – the Lovell’s. Apparently, they are currently the only known family in Utah that seems to exhibit this particular gene mutation. So, if any of you women reading this have Lovell blood or a family history of breast or ovarian cancer, contact Huntsman Cancer Institute and ask about the High Risk Breast Cancer Clinic (http://www.hopeguide.org/hope/TopicCMD.jac?topicID=10452). You can’t beat the price, and the peace of mind that prevention can give you is priceless. How’s that for advertising? I swear no one’s paying me, no one even asked me to, but I figure, if programs like this are available, I want to get the word out. With proper prevention and early detection, death from Breast Cancer could be nearly eradicated. Plus, the genetic counseling is really interesting. My sister, Stacy, attended one of my sessions and found it as interesting as I did. My friend, Melissa, attended my other session and laughed at me when she realized how much I was enjoying it. I couldn’t help it – the little slice of science nerd in me found it absolutely fascinating.
What do April Fool's Day, Halloween and Breast Cancer Have in Common?
May 9, 2008
After much persuasion from family and friends, I am finally jumping on the blog band wagon. I switched jobs and moved to Dallas, Texas a few months ago, and my life had been busy enough that I wondered if I would ever have the time to get this started, but sometimes, life puts little road blocks in your way that force you to slow down and take the occasional detour.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer on April Fool’s Day - no joke, although it is a bit ironic. For over a year, I had worked at University of Utah’s Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City, Utah. Last December, I said yes to a job offer with Bank of America in Dallas, moved, and started my new job in January. Three months after I stopped working at the cancer institute, I found out I had cancer.
I am now back in Salt Lake, going to Huntsman Cancer Institute (http://www.huntsmancancer.org/) for treatment. In my opinion, it’s probably the greatest cancer hospital on the planet –I’ve never been treated so well from a medical perspective. My breast cancer team includes my breast surgeon, Dr. Leigh Nuemayer, my plastic surgeon, Dr. Jay Agarwal, my medical oncologist, Dr. Saundra Buys, a host of nurses, interns/residents, genetic counselors and others – every one of whom has taken amazing care of me.
Last week, I had a bi-lateral, skin-sparing mastectomy, or in the words of my friend Melissa, 'I had my boobs scooped out like a jack-o-lantern at Halloween.' I’ve got unnaturally heavy saline implants in as temporary replacements until my reconstructive surgery. They’re like having rocks on your chest, so I’m a bit sore, but considering everything, I feel pretty good. I’ve been lucky enough to not have many of the self-image issues that come with breast cancer, at least not to any extreme. I’ve actually been a little bit excited about reconstruction – a tummy tuck and a boob job all in one shot, woo-hoo! With chemotherapy just started and complete hair loss on the horizon, we’ll see how things go, but right now my spirits are high.
I’ll be writing about my experience with cancer, but this isn’t going to be a breast cancer only blog. Breast cancer is not my life – it is not who I am – it is simply an obstacle that I am in the process of overcoming. I will jump on my soap box long enough to say: Women, do your self breast exams! Don’t use the ‘I’m too young to worry about breast cancer’ excuse. I was diagnosed at 31 and spent my 32nd birthday preparing to start chemo. My tumor was the most aggressive – grade 3, but because I went to the doctor when I found a lump, I caught it early enough that it hadn’t spread to anywhere else in my body. *stepping off my soap box*
I also have to do a shout out to all my incredible friends, family, and co-workers that have adjusted schedules, flown and driven in to Utah to visit, and everyone that has simply given kind words of support and much needed prayers. I couldn’t have done this without you – I love you all!
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