God's Goodness

These past few days I have been reminded of God's goodness to me when I was actively battling my cancer.  I doubt I am the only one who takes for granted good fortune.

Early Saturday morning, a young seven-year-old boy we know,  died due to surgical complications.  Last week this young boy was diagnosed with leukemia.  Friday's surgery was to put a port in him to use for needed treatments for his leukemia.  He ended up dying from internal bleeding that occurred after the surgery  It was a known risk at the outset; but like most who deal with cancer, it is a risk you take without a lot of thought. 

Initially I did not give this much thought.  But when my husband and I were talking about the events of Saturday -- I had been out of town for a few days and he was bringing me up to speed on thing here at home -- he made this comment, "You had a port put in, didn't you?"  I said that I had -- he had been there at the time.  I am not sure that he was familiar with what a port looked like and how it is put in, other than making an incision.  I said to him that I could understand a problem arising, as a port has a small tube that is inserted into a vein near the neck.  It works better in situations in which a person will get a lot of needle-jabbing over a period of time.  For me, it was for my chemo; but I also had the medical staff do blood draws there.  It is meant to save on the veins in the arms.

My port was inserted by a surgeon when I was sedated.  Before I was released to go home, my surgeon had a portable x-ray machine brought to the room.  He wanted to see that everything was looking right with that port before he let me go home.

Was there a risk to me in having a port put in?  Yes.  Did I know that?  Yes.  I had to sign off on the procedure.  Did I give any thought to the possibility that there would be complications?  No.  I think that most of us fall into that line of thinking -- unless we are, by nature, worrywarts. 

I look back at my surgery, implant of my port, chemo, radiation . . .  I really was fortunate to get through it all without any real complications.  I really ought not take that for granted.  God was good to me, and the past few days have been a good reminder of that.

Talan's dad and Dennis have been good friends for years, and so this has been a bit difficult for Dennis.  He can't begin to answer the questions TJ puts to him, as it related to life after death.  I am sure that this will be a point of discussion for weeks, even months, to come.

Milestones

Milestones are goals achieved as a cancer survivor gets farther and farther away from when the journey all began.

I remember thinking at the outset that it seemed all I was doing was adding doctors, having tests, and traveling to appointments.  There was the ob-gyn lady, the mammo lady, the ultrasound lady, the MRI guy, surgeon, the oncologist, the chemo people, the radiation people . . . you get the drift.  Week after week after week, that was all part of my life, starting the end of November 2011 and ending about the middle of October 2012.  The completion of radiation therapy was my first major milestone.  Aside from hormonal therapy (pills), I was done with my vigorous battle with this disease.  I had recovered from my surgery.  I had made it through chemo.  I had finished radiation.

So, what milestones have I reached?

By the end of 2012, I was seeing my surgeon only twice a year.  Getting my port out was the last "invasive" thing he did.  By 2013, I was switched to once a year.  Not sure if I will go back this year or just figure I am done.  My NP at the oncologist's office says that surgeons like to keep tabs on people like me for five years.  To me, it seems that all Dr. Bang checks for is lymphedema and how much I weigh.  Anything else he does, the NP does at the oncologist's office.

January 2013 I was told that if things were good January 2014, then I was done at the radiation oncologist's, since I had other medical people watching out for me.  Dr. Fallon was good.  I never felt hurried when he met with me.  I will always remember what a great waiting area there was:  Keurig machine, electric fireplace, tv, jigsaw puzzle, lots of space.  This office gave its patients $25 gas cards to help with travel expenses.

In the fall of 2014, I changed from every three months' appointments with my oncologist to every six.  My next goal is the yearly plan.  I know that as long as I am taking HT, then I will have to see my oncologist.  The "sad" thing, though is that this month, the Homer office closed.  To keep with Dr. Benjamin, I will have to travel to Syracuse.  Because I think he is very good AND because I like the NP (Patricia), I will travel up there.

Here's looking to the time when I will reach that last milestone -- no more oncologist appointments.

How Good Is God's Family!

 Last evening, Dennis and I went to calling hours for an older man in our church. Dennis knows more of his grown children than I do, and so he would introduce them to me as we went through the line. We came to the last son and wife. After Dennis introduced me, the wife said, "We prayed for you when you were dealing with cancer. You look so good!" Her daughter had dealt with leukemia several years ago, and we had done the same for her. The thing that the woman and I were sharing is that fact that during our difficult times, we experienced that "peace that passes understanding," a peace that is there and just can't be explained. She gave me a huge hug before we parted.

I have found myself amazed at the fact that there were people praying for me that I did/do not know. This is not the first time that I have had someone tell me that she prayed for me during those months three years ago. How good is God's family! 

My New Reality

It has been quite awhile since I last blogged here.  That would be because life has gotten more normal, now that I am almost two years in remission from my battle with breast cancer.  My three-month checks with my oncologist have been uneventful.  My checks with my surgeon have been uneventful, becoming annual checks as of my last visit.

So far, so good.  I am tolerating the side effects of the tamoxifen fairly well.  I figured out that about two hours after I take my doses, one in the morning and one in the evening, I have a time when I am warm and perspiring.  Once that is past, I am good for the rest of the day or night,  My stiffness in my joints I am not sure are a side effect, as it could be my age . . . it could be my genetics, as I have parents with arthritic issues.

Before my most recent oncologist appointment, August 25, I had noticed a small lump just below my scar and just off the center of my chest to the left -- the area where I had the nastier problems to deal with.  The small mass was soft.  I could not feel any hard areas.  I knew that I needed to be sure my oncologist was aware of this, as I seem to be a marvel at growing things -- some harmless and some not.

Both the NP as well as oncologist checked it out and thought that this was not anything serious; however, with my cancer issues in that area, they both thought that I should get it checked out further.  I agreed.  It made sense to be as sure as possible.

I really was not unduly concerned about this mass, and so I did not spend time fretting nor did I lose sleep over it.

Two days later, I had an ultrasound on that area.  That went well.  It seemed odd to be there in that place, as last time I had been there was when I was there in December 2011 for those images which first showed that I had a problem.  That time, the technician had come back in to get more images, as she was sure the radiologist would want more.  This time, there were no extra images taken.  I took that as a good sign.  I would hear the results from that test after Labor Day.

Later that day I received a phone call from my NP.  The radiologist was not ready to give me clearance.  He made several suggestions as to what to do next -- CT scan, MRI, and/or biopsy.  My oncologist chose biopsy.  Because of Labor Day and my not wanting to miss the first day of school, the biopsy was scheduled for September 4.

I did wonder if it would be the same type as last time.  Would it be a simple fine needle aspiration OR would it be one of those core needles (ultrasound guided)? That type was not at all comfy, as each time before when the doctor was going for samples, it felt as if I was being shot by a staple gun.  Multiple samples were taken.

This time I again found it all so surreal -- same nurses as before, same information, same room.   I was familiar with it all because I had had this done before.  My one saving feature was that I figured it would not be as painful this time because so much of the area around my scar is still numb.  So, although I might smart slightly in spots, I probably would not hurt afterwards like last time.

I had another preliminary ultrasound.  The doctor gave me a numbing shot -- not that I felt much of it.  Then he got to work and took three samples.  Because of the size of it, he was able to go through the same small hole each time.  So, patching was minimal.  I had taken the day off school because I knew that I needed to take it easy the rest of the day.

Yes, I did share my situation with some friends so they could join me in prayer about this.  No, I did not lose sleep over this.  I had remembered comments made at the biopsy that made me think things were well . . . . that they, too, thought this was more precautionary than anything else.

I had an appointment to hear the results September 8.  BUT, the results were not yet in.  I had to wait another day.

I came home from school Tuesday to a phone message from my NP that she had good news to share about my results.  I called -- benign mass.  YES!  

I realize that this is my new reality, though.  Anytime I develop some type of mass, no matter how small, it will be checked out to be sure no cancer is starting up again,  I am all right with that.  I realize that can happen.  I also realize that the sooner something cancerous is dealt with, the better the outcome.

The other good news I received was that I now was going to be on a six-month plan for my appointments rather than three.  YEA!!!!!

Summer 2014 -- Physical Therapy

I have had some problems with my left arm/shoulder for years.  When I was in my early 30s, I had crashed into a gym wall as I chased after a volleyball and dislocated my shoulder.  I remember seeing the x-ray of it:  the nob of my humerous was in my armpit.  For a month I was velcroed together to keep my shoulder in place.

I did some physical therapy (PT) for about a month, as I had already made plans to go to California for a few weeks to visit family.  At that time, the PT was rather minimal -- especially as I compare it to what I have done now, about 25 years later.  I never did recover complete use of my shoulder and various activities and positions would aggravate it.  But, I learned to cope with it.

My cancer surgery, followed by rads, had an effect on that same area, although it took time for that to become apparent.  My arm would ache, especially during the night, making it difficult at times to sleep.  I had increasing challenges in certain movements, noticeable when I was washing my hair or turning the steering wheel of my car to make a turn, noticeable when I would turn my head to look back over my shoulder . . .

I mentioned the challenges to my surgeon on my regular follow-up visit in December.  Since he is always concerned about lymphedema, he sent me to a orthopedist.  That visit dispelled the idea that lymphedema was my problem. Probably the problem was rooted in my past injury PLUS the scar tissue of my surgery and the affects of radiation.  I could first try PT, if I was interested in giving that a try.

I waited until spring to contact the orthopedist, as I was still having problems.  She had me get x-rays and set my up for PT.  The x-rays ruled out anything really serious.  What my shoulder was showing was signs of osteoarthritis, along with rotator cuff problems/encapsulitis.

From the last part of May to about the middle of August, I went one to two times a week for PT.  My therapist was Jodie, a woman almost the same age as I.  We clicked.  She had me do exercises there that I would not be able to do at home because of the equipment.  She also gave me some exercises I could do at home with what I have.  While I was there, she would work at trying to loosen up my upper arm/shoulder area.  Although parts of the process was painful, it was manageable -- I knew I needed to have that done so I could get improvement and relief in that area.

My goal was to at least be how I was before my surgery.  If I bettered that, fine.  

I did meet the smaller goals that made up that bigger goal by mid-August.  I also found I was able to do some things I had not been able to do since I dislocated my shoulder.  Wow!

Was it worth it to go to PT?  Yes.

Will I lose what I gained?  Depends on what I do at home with what I have.  I have some bands for stretching/resistance.  I also have two one-pound weights as well as two two-pound weights.  

Will I ever be rid of the discomfort I get at times when I make certain movements?  Probably not, since some of my problems are arthritic.  I am thankful, though, that the aching is gone.  I can sleep through the night.  

Compare the Hair

Like most chemo patients, I lost my hair.  It started to flee from my head just as I was getting my second infusion, two weeks after round one.  Once it started to go, I went ahead and had my friend Becky come over and give me a buzz cut, as I thought it would make the whole process of losing my hair a little less messy and less disheartening.

One question that seems to arise, though is this:  What will my hair be like when it grows back?

• Will it grow in splotches?
• Will it be really curly and frizzy?
• Will it be thinner?
• Will it be the same color?
• Will it have the same texture?

It seems to me that all I knew of were survivors whose hair grew in curlier and wavier than what they had had before.  For some, their hair grew splotchy, although evening out later.

My hair was salt/pepper in color.  My hair was coarse.  My hair had a natural wave to it.  My hair was thick.  I often had women tell me they wish they had hair like mine because the salt/pepper mix was evenly distributed and my hair had a nice wave to it.  I wore my hair somewhat short, and so all I did was "wash and wear."

When my hair began to grow back, it at first looked whiter/greyer than it had been.  I thought I would be all right with that, considering what I had endured.  That would be something to be expected because of the trauma to my body.  My hair did not come in in splotches, and so about 10 weeks after my final chemo infusion, I had enough hair to opt to no longer wear a wig or hat when I went out anywhere.  I did not mind that my hair was short.  I just was glad to be able to let go of the coverings.  About a month after that, I had my sister-in-law give me my first trim, primarily around my ears.  The hairs she cut were white and fine.  Anyone who rubbed my head -- and it was funny ones who were curious and did -- DIFFERENT!

The challenge has been how to style it.  I do not like to put stuff in my hair; but, it tends to hang straight.  My hair is still soft.  My hair is thick, but not in the same way it was because of the texture of my hair now.  The curls I would get at the ends of my hair in the back when my hair was getting longer no longer happened.  I could, in a sense, go longer between haircuts. 

Some think that my hair is more a brown/salt color than it was.

So, take a look here and see what it looks like.  The pictures are pre-chemo and post-chemo.

 

Thoughts That Come and Go

Although I am considered NED (no evidence of disease), I have to admit that reading or hearing that someone has died and cancer is the attributing factor can give me a quick jolt.  A dose of reality, I guess.

Why is it, then, that I am a bit unsettled?  Statistically, on this side of the initial battle, I am in the 67% - 80% of cancer survivors who should make it to the five-year mark and beyond.  My type of cancer has a better chance of being subdued for years, compared to some types.  That figure is for someone categorized at the stage at which I was categorized.  Those I read or hear about could have been at a riskier stage, or they may have survived their disease for many years.  Rarely do I know.

I sometimes wonder, then, what will be written about me and my life, should I succumb to this disease before the Lord returns.  Will my life have made a difference in the lives of my family and of others?   What would I want my memorial service to be like?  Where would I want it to be held?  What am I doing with the time that I currently have?

I do not dwell on these thoughts for long, mostly because I am reminded that not one of us has the guarantee of another minute, hour, day, month, or year.  It does not matter if we are dealing with a disease or not.  Our lives could be over in a flash.  What matters is whether or not we are ready for what lies beyond the grave.  I am.

I think that being jolted a little when confronted with the reality that is cancer is another part of life as a survivor.

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This part of November takes my thoughts to my friend Val, who lost her cancer battle three years ago this month. ..