SO...gosh darn...H-O-T!

Tamoxifen! Damn you!

I hate these hot flashes. I get them every hour or two at night--just enough to insure I never, ever feel rested. I wake up....I realize a hot flash is beginning. I push off every cover. I sleep. I wake again twenty minutes later....I'm cold. Lather, rinse, repeat. Six times the other night.

I can't believe I'm looking at years of this garbage. Please God tell me it will even out at some point.

And we won't speak of the mood swings...when I'm under stress (which seems to be about 90% of the time) I alternate between just purely pissed off at the world or despondent.

My, this is so much fun.

Happy birthday to me this week...this year has sucked. I sure hope the next one is less dramatic!

Tamoxifen......ICK.

I have now taken 10 tamoxifen pills...that stuff BETTER stop more cancer, because I'm not impressed with the side effects.

My mood swings have been EPIC...
My head hurts all or part of every day...
I am getting more and more hot flashes especially at night--I wake up and kick off covers or pull on covers a dozen times a night....
My mouth has this horrible taste...metallic...rancid...blah....

Oh goody...I get to take this stuff for five years. I sure hope the first month or two is the worst.

I don't recommend breast cancer as a hobby.

October 1...Begin Next Phase!

Today I start to take the anti-cancer drug tamoxifen for five years....I guess my hormones are in for a wake-up call (a go-to-sleep call?).

I also have several doctors debating whether tamoxifen alone is enough....

...or whether I should take a shot every month to squash my ovaries (and kill my life as a somewhat happy productive person, by some accounts!)....

...or whether I should just have another lovely surgery to rip out my lady parts altogether! Get it all over with quickly (?) and take away the estrogen production AND the risk of tamoxifen giving me endometrial cancer.

Decisions...decisions...this girl-stuff is so FUN. What will it be...estrogen naps, ovary comas, or slash and burn?

For now, it's tamoxifen and PUNT! Tomorrow is another day.

A taste for more "adventure"

So what happens when Lisa finishes radiation treatment and moves on with the rest of her life?

She slips in her kitchen (cleaning up after her semi-incontinent dog), smacks the back of her head against the kitchen table on the way down, and starts to bleed profusely. Off she goes to the ER for a fun late night adventure of pressure bandaging, cat scanning, X-raying, and a stitch to finish off the fun. The doctor (who fancied himself Cumberland's very own Jay Leno) decided to use a bandaging strategy which made me look like a cross between a bank robber and a Snow Baby.

So here I am...with enough blood left in my hair to stand the back up like a ghoulish Kate Gosselin....waiting until tomorrow (!) to wash the whole thing away...

I am okay...sore, embarrassed, cranky...relieved I don't have a concussion or a brain bleed.

What did I do to deserve 2009, I ask you?

Cancer wisdom from my friend Bryan

My cancer scare changed my life. I'm grateful for every new, healthy day I have. Olivia Newton John
So true...but I'd like to look like Olivia as my reward. Jeff seconds the motion.

My veins are filled with carpet cleaner once a week, and I am as bald as an egg. However I still get around and I am mean to cats. Life is good.
John Cheever
I didn't do chemo, but I love this quote. This one's for you, Renee Kiddy (not the cats part!).

When the Japanese mend broken objects they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe when something has suffered damage and continues on, it becomes more beautiful.
Barbara Bloom
This one made me cry.

A positive attitude may not solve all your problems but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.
Herm Albright
Sounds like the Democrats need this one.

Treatment ends....future begins

I have run the race...and now I get a little rest.

Radiation is done.

No more hanging out with strangers five days a week!

Two more

Two more treatments....

My breast hurts most of the time now--intermittent stabbing pains and then dull pain like a toothache. There is swelling, but the skin has calmed down.

I can't imagine having this done to my head or my abdomen like the people I sit with.

I saw a new lady in the waiting room this week. She's probably my age...hair growing in from chemo baldness...so weak she can barely stand up from her wheelchair. Today she was wheeled in and parked by a man who left, and she stared vacantly at the giant aquarium while she waited. Her daughter came later and talked to her in a loud, sing-song voice. The daughter told her mother to "say thank you" as they were leaving as if her mom were a four year old. The poor woman. What is she dealing with, I wonder?

I come and go into these treatments like Hurricane Lisa. The doctor told me today I walk like I'm in a rush to get somewhere (as I nearly collided with a nurse in the hallway).

What's the rush? I running toward a simpler place, with no doctors or machines for a blessed few weeks...months....

#30

I have passed the big-30...3 more to go. Can I tell you how ready I am to be done?

My skin is looking a little worse....c'mon Thursday! I'm almost there.

The Boost

So, today is the beginning of what I hope is the end of the Big C. "The Boost" has begun.

I have seven more radiation treatments directly into the area where the cancer started, and then we see if my cancer adventure ends...or takes a holiday. I hear so many stories of both outcomes.

I will not miss the constant fatigue and borderline discomfort...but I may miss the excuse of "I'm in treatment" to explain why I'm distracted or lethargic or cranky. Starting next week, I'm just Lisa....recovered (?).

Will I ever be the same? No. I will never live a day without the nagging doubts, but I won't take life and health for granted again. I have flirted with the boundaries of my own mortality, and I know I want to stay on this side of the fence. Let's hope I can cobble together a heathier way forward.

This has been a sad, sorry summer with some glimpses of grace.

I could use a boost and it's not the radiation kind!

Happy Days

Cancer treatment takes time...and I'm lucky to be one of the relative short-timers.

I'm happy to say today is a small milestone--treatment #25, 8 more to go. So I'll be passing the 3/4 mark. Today ends whole breast radiation and we head into "the boost" starting next Tuesday. The boost involves 8 treatments of radiation directly into my scar, in the area where the cancer actually happened. Can I tell you the weirdness of having four people drawing all over one's exposed breast with green magic markers, plotting their attack plans...

My doctor says my skin has come through very well, considering I'm about as fair and sunburn-prone as one can be. I'm really tired this week--combine radiation with "that time of the month" and you get Lisa...loopier than usual. I went to bed at eight-something last night.

We are celebrating Dan Stack's wedding festivities this weekend. I will nap....then party...then nap!

Sleep Schedule Disruptions

Here I am at 12:53 AM....looking at the magic picture machine. I guess radiation fatigue may be messing with my Z-z-z-z-z's. I crash and burn at 7 or 8 or 9 PM but then I'm awake at 1 or 2.

I'm starting to notice my skin changing with the treatments (18 down, 15 to go). I'm not uncomfortable, but the process is headed in that direction. My breast now hurts vaguely most of the time (with occasional shooting pains...normal, I'm told), and the texture of my skin is starting to feel like shoe leather despite the aloe vera.

I continue to be amazed at the tenacity of cancer patients with treatment plans far more challenging than mine. People make their way through grueling chemo regimens and THEN do this....impressive...and appalling. There are people all around us living through some incredible odysseys. Why am I just starting to clue in? I really didn't know I was such a self-focused creature until this experience.

Week 3 is History

I'm pleased to say I'm motoring on through radiation treatments....15 down, 18 to go. Still no side effects, although the tougher time is coming up.

Looking forward to Matt's arrival home next Saturday and to Dan Stack's wedding the following Saturday, although I'm a little sad to see Miss Jenna return to UMBC next weekend. Although she exists in a totally different time zone than the rest of us (awake until 3 AM...asleep until 12...or 1....), we enjoy our brief encounters.

Summer 2009 has been the weirdest ever--like no summer at all except it seems like a year since I started this process in May.

Alas.........

Lisa's Easy Bake Oven

This is where I hang out these days...

My very own linear accelerator (complete with a handy-dandy ladder standing by for ??)

I staged a pre-nuke photo op this morning. I'm sure the whole world is as fascinated as I am with the inner sanctum of the oncology suite.

So....radiation oncology trivia fans. The table (with Lisa lying on her back, arms overhead) slides back under the round part and moves up closer underneath it. The instrument rotates around me to establish the correct angle.

Total treatment time is roughly 3 minutes in 6-8 shorter segments.

The monster unmasked

I found my monster's picture....

...he's actually a "Multileaf Collimator."

Those little individual rods move around to shape the radiotherapy beams to go precisely where the doctor wants them to go. I still think it looks like a snarl when they treat me!

The Monster in My Cherry Blossoms

Have I mentioned the radiation machine has a face? No…really.

Each morning as the machine rotates into position over me, its innards begin to realign in a precise computer-generated snarl.

The counterpoint—a giant photo of sunshine, blue sky and cherry blossoms in full bloom…on the ceiling. Talk about surreal.

So anyway, there’s a monster in my cherry blossoms. He spits toxic cancer killer rays.

PS—I’m not feeling as cranky about radiation therapy as week #2 comes to an end. On Monday I was downright morose.

No skin side effects yet—I’m sure that will rain on my parade, big time.

The Monday Wall

The wall jumped out in front of me again....it was called Monday. For some reason, waking up to week #2 of the seven week radiation seige did not make me feel very chipper. I laid in bed this morning and contemplated the excellent prospect of running away from treatment...except my breast and the possibility of cancer recurrence would just go with me. SHOOT!

There are days when I think I understand the whole mastectomy choice--although I imagine the reconstruction process is no picnic either. Bottom line--breast cancer stinks.....but my situation is downright cheery compared to many.

Speaking of which--may I just say visiting the oncology center every day gives me a glimpse into the lives of my fellow humans. I met a lady today who had breast cancer (lumpectomy w/radiation) ten years ago and is back for chemo & radiation for her second bout of lung cancer. I guess hearing those stories gives me the blues, too. I worry I might not be finished with cancer, although I meet so many people who seem to be cured.

Well--my father says, "One day at a time," and that's what I'm going to say, too. My 2009 cancer is gone. THE END.

FOREVER.................

Four treatments down....29 to go. No side effects yet.

Saw the local medical oncologist yesterday. She was very agreeable and informative. The drug/s they will give me after the delightful Easy-Bake Oven treatments have a wonderful list of side effects as well. I've always gotten through medical stuff with a minimum of fuss, but breast cancer is going to give me a run for my money.

I sometimes wonder if the cancer will rear up and finish me off....or the "survival" therapies themselves!

But I must go with the flow and get nuked and de-estrogenized!

What an 'adventure', indeed. I can't even fathom the additional burden of chemo in this equation--those folks are amazingly strong people.

...Glowing...

Two treatments down...31 to go. Yay, me.

The treatment takes about 2-3 minutes of actual zapping time, plus the targeting time--probably about 5 minutes in the treatment room and 20 minutes getting in and out. Very manageable, but it seems like a long haul at this point.

I'm told I can expect the skin side effects to kick in after about two weeks.

This is progress, anyway.....

Our Son, the Pirate

Now that I have learned to use photographs in my blog, I would like to take this opportunity to share a non-cancer moment...

This is our son, the ever-so-serious scholar, working on his masters dissertation in English Literature in England...or not!

He entertains me....what can I say?

Whoa...technology!

So this, friends, is a linear accelerator....

I saw it for the first time today.

I will be starting to get my radiation-finally-on Monday. Thirty-three treatments every weekday through mid-September.

I feel like Future Woman....

Fortunately, they will not be pointing the thing at my HEAD like this poor person!

Insomnia!

It's 4:14 am and I'm awake....not worrying, just AWAKE!

I sounded so downtrodden the other day--not to worry, sports fans. It was just the periodic hit-the-wall time. Those episodes are getting fewer and less frequent, but increasing work time may up the stress level a bit.

Next week will be the test. Somehow two of our opticians are off at the same time so I will be working full time for the first time in a number of weeks--probably since May. We'll see how the energy level holds out for such a schedule after a few weeks of radiation. I'm told that about Week Three of radiation will be when the fatigue really sets in. So watch out in mid-August. My family is already accustomed to my mid-evening slumberfests on the Lazy Boy chair--I'm not sure how we'll know I'm MORE tired? Maybe I won't be on the computer at 4 AM......

So...I'm off to read.....or watch TV....or something that doesn't involve reading the NY Times political section.......politics does NOT put me to sleep, I'm afraid.

Good night (morning?)........

Return of the Late Night Worry Monster

He's ba-c-k-k-k!
Information=fretfulness.

I've been informed to pieces about radiation.....brittle bones...possible skin burns...fatigue...don't take antioxidants, do drink water, don't wear bras with wires, do this...don't do that--HELP!

And then there's tamoxifen for five years....it'll reduce your chances of breast cancer, but watch out for the risk of endometrial cancer, nausea, hot flashes, blah..blah...blah.....

The cures are starting to get more worrisome than the gosh-darn cancer!

I realized at dinner tonight that I'm feeling tremendous guilt for not wanting to rejoin the rat race at work full-time. My brain is just so full and I am totally exhausted when I work. I don't really enjoy getting complained at and yelled at, and work with the public these days involves a lot of both. My coping skills are a bit depleted, and my brain is not moving at full speed.

On the other hand, most patients--especially the ones who know about the cancer--are very supportive and lovely. Work is okay, but I'm just not myself right now. I find myself wanting to hunker down in my house. What's that phobia?

Tomorrow is my radiation "simulation." I'll have a cat scan and they'll plot my treatment angles. I guess I get the targeting tattoos tomorrow as well--no lightning bolts, unfortunately. Just little spots that will mark me forever as a radiation veteran.

This cancer dance is depressing some days. I'm tired.

The Plan

I was going to say the "final plan" but that's so May 8th. No finality for me, thanks.

So--I've now seen oncologists at Hopkins and Western MD Health System, and there is a plan. I will proceed with the conservative course of 6 weeks of radiation treatments/5 days per week, starting 7/27/09. There are treatment options in trials at Hopkins which take one week (I don't qualify) or three weeks (I might qualify), but there are reasons to stay with lower doses of radiation over a longer period--which I can do. At the conclusion of radiation (around 9/10/09) I will start the tamoxifen pill treatment for 5 years.

I have come to realize some women choose to skip radiation, especially for eensy-teensy cancers like mine, for a whole host of reasons--money, distance, time--but no medical person advocates this plan, and I can't see taking the increased risk of cancer recurrence. So, light me up, baby!

In truth, the radiation thing kind of intimidates me....stupid, after facing down the Big C. No one I've talked to who've had the treatments view them like much of a big deal. But when the doctor told me up to 5% of my lung tissue would be scarred (and thus killed off) in the process of nuking the breast area, I realized how potent this radiation is. ICK. Let's hope the ever-so-suave Dr Watkins has some good aim!

Why?

Why must wonderful people get so sick?
.....and I don't mean me.

My phone just rang on this lovely, sunny morning--4 weeks post-op. It was a beautiful lady who is the mother of one of my best long-time friends. She is terminally ill and so very, very fragile. However, she was checking up on me (of course) and thanking me for caring about her (as if I could do otherwise....she's the closest person I can think of to compare to my own gentle mother).

Why must this perfect lady--beloved wife, mother, grandmother and friend--face such a dire situation? I want my mother, and I know Chris wants his. Eighty years is way too short sometimes.

Do we love enough when we have the chance?

Live Young!

I love this...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eExHIzBKRU0

Time out for a happy non-cancer moment..........

Normal. (?) (!) (....)

I've gone to work for most of the past two days--woo-hoo.
I'm really not "normal" as predicted by the title. My right breast feels like a 15 pound water balloon--actually more like 25 pounds by 5:00 PM. However, my brain haze is dissipating to a large degree--my apathy is a little slower! Will I ever want to hear the din of work-whining again? (I think not..............)

I am humbled daily by the good will of my fellow humans. I've discovered two of the loveliest ladies in Cumberland are fellow Johns Hopkins breast warriors--with the very same surgeon. I can't tell you how I feel to stand beside two such formidable, beautiful survivors. I CAN DO THIS. One of the ladies invited me to join a committee of planners for a fall breast cancer walk and fundraiser. I want to turn this around and start to help others--so the answer is yes.
...................

Unrelated opinion--may I tell you how impossibly sick I am of the Michael Jackson death-a-thon and the Sarah Palin melt-a-thon. There is no one on the planet more delighted to see Palin withering like the Wicked Witch of the West (or disappearing like the polar ice cap--take that neocons!), but good grief--shut up already, Sarah-Victim-Queen, and all the pundits, right, left and other.

Could we put a feed of NPR on every channel, 24-7? That's my kind of news.

I'm just cranky that Jacko and Wacko stole the thunder from Governor Sanford--now that was entertainment. May my breasts someday inspire such poetry.

Recommended Reading

Thanks to Kayleigh for directing my attention to this article. I understand where he's coming from, even though my cancer and my battle are much shorter and less daunting than his. I recommend reading this article for some insight into the mind of someone with a serious illness--always useful information here on the planet.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/30/health/30case.html?ref=science

And the oncology decision is..........

I saw a medical oncologist at Hopkins yesterday. He was quite the dashing young fellow with a hint of a Latin accent (and a dashing resume as well!).

It's so very discouraging to take my fat 48 year old self to see such a guy...and for a stinking cancer appointment, for crying out loud. I've grown so used to my female medical army that I was rather daunted to face a male doctor. My weird medical fantasy life (that I don't really have anyway) just gets shot to h*#@, I'm afraid. I daresay Governor Sanford would not be waxing poetic about me these days!

Thank goodness my real-life dream doc is still on my team--he's the best fantasy man I know. Tomorrow is our 27th anniversary, and I can now look forward to many, many more.
.......................

I digress, as usual.

The medical oncologist does not--I repeat DOES NOT--recommend any chemotherapy. Hurray!!! I'm pleased I get to keep my hair. I guess I view my hair as my "one beauty" (Amy to Jo in Little Women).

I will start with radiation (consultation appointments scheduled 7/10 in Cumberland and 2nd opinion 7/16 at JHU) and then take tamoxifen pills (a "selective estrogen receptor modulator") for 5 years. Tamoxifen "reduces the risk of further invasive breast cancer by 50%" (and gives me a few fun new systemic risk factors, but tomorrow is another day--so says Katie Scarlett O'Hara). And tamoxifen will also give me the symptoms of menopause, but probably not the real thing!? Tell me that's fair! Jeff will be needing the asbestos pajamas.

To continue with today's cinema theme, I'm channeling Bette Davis in All About Eve....“Hold on to your seats, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!"

"Stage One...and an early one at that"

I had my surgical follow-up at JHU Thursday.

Nothing new after the fab pathology report, but I now have my official stage--ONE.

I just missed ZERO because my cells were a tiny bit invasive in the breast tissue and not just ductal.

I now need oncology appointments in both Baltimore (for guidance) and Cumberland (for the actual treatments). The likely scenario is radiology (for certain) followed by some type of drug therapy to discourage more cancer.

We've been at the American Optometric Association meeting for 5 days in Washington, DC. I am ready to go home!
.....................................................

My dad's house sells on Tuesday after nearly 15 months......goodbye to an era....but hello to less complexity.

Oh, Happy Day! (Spoiler Alert: ANOTHER Mood Swing)

My surgeon just called...the late night worry monster might get a vacation!

The suspense is over regarding pathology...the cancer is gone. There are no margins to trim because there weren't any actual cancer cells left in the lumpectomy tissue--it was apparently all gone with the biopsy tissue removal, weeks ago! My dear surgeon is the mistress of understatement--she says, "It's a nice report."

So--I still need my surgical follow-up and to meet with the oncology folks in the coming days, but the doctor said planning for radiation only is probably a pretty safe bet.

I am weeping...but it's the happy kind.

Tonight, I have the champagne I thought I'd have after my biopsy came back clean. Cheers!

Topic Shift! See Lisa's brain on overdrive

For those of you asking about my dad and his own set of head issues...

He had a follow up with his plastic surgeon yesterday, and Dr. Carpenter was pleased with how the area looked. He is now cautiously optimistic George's head will heal without the bigger skin graft surgery being necessary.

I told my dad it looks like a dime-size sand trap. The area "inside" now looks the same color as his outer skin--which is much less intimidating. The goal is to have the layers all knit together and heal over. He will continue to have the special dressings every other day--they are treated with silver (?!) to help stimulate healing (Aquacel, I think is the name). He can now have a large band-aid put over the area instead of gauze and tape. The dressings will continue for 6-12 weeks and his next visit is in 8 weeks. It will not be particularly nice-looking, I'm afraid, but it wasn't great before.

He is looking so much better with the extra weight he's gained at assisted living. May I just say how INCREDIBLE the Golden Living ladies are. Having him in a healthy nurturing environment is wonderful.

Surgery Fog Lifts....Worry settles back in

Jeff and I have stopped sleeping well...and it's not due to the blind, deaf, diabetic, occasionally incontinent, geriatric dog. The nagging late night worry monster is now peeing in our kitchen.

Jeff is swamped at work (2009 has been a lu-lu). His office manager has largely floated off into the ether and his wife has cancer--and she's the same crazy broad. Ouch! Talk about "no rest for the weary."

Lisa is swamped at home with a brain that won't stop functioning like Google on steroids (the real Google can often aggravate this condition, especially at 3:00 AM). I think the out-of-control cell growth is located in my frontal lobe. My brain is lurching through the "If This, Then That" road race, and my poor husband gets to hear my daily sportscast when he gets home from the office.

The good and bad news is this--on Thursday, we get to hear what the next hurdle will be: another surgery?....radiation in a few weeks?....chemo in a few weeks? The answer will be 1, 2 or 3 of those things. I'll jump, damn it, but it might not be graceful.

...........................................................................

On a happier note, breast cancer survivors are everywhere! I keep finding out about the struggles--AND VICTORIES--of women all around me. Weeks ago I was talking about the people around us fighting so many battles--who knew so darn many had breast cancer?

I love to talk to these Breast Warriors looking so healthy and beautiful. They are Kryptonite for the late night worry monster.

Day 4...and human

Happy Friday, sports fans.
I feel 85% human today. For some reason, the pain and yuk just "changed" this morning--my right breast feels like something I may just be willing to keep. The cough persists occasionally, but my throat feels like it may be healing.

Today's wish list...
1) Lovely wide, clear margins when they finish my pathology and no follow-up "tissue trimming"--keep me the heck out of that OR, if you please. They may have to drag me back kicking and screaming (or whimpering and whining.....).
2) No Chemo, thank you very much.

To end with the analogy I started with, I feel like I can be a good sport today.

Home...and reality

Good morning. We arrived back home yesterday afternoon and I kind of miss my hotel cocoon! Somebody else was doing the cleaning there. Don't worry--I'll make somebody else do it here, too.

My throat is still very raspy and sore. I am not in that much pain, although I am incredibly stiff and sore this morning. Too many weird contortions on surgery day, I guess. The dressings come off later today and I get to shower--I'm sure everyone around me will appreciate that development. I'm not really looking forward to seeing the surgical handiwork. My 48 year old form was less than glorious, but I have a feeling Monday's efforts will not add anything to the pretty picture. Oh well--cancer free will look good to me in any shape.

Continuing on the "Let's Make This About Me" front, I've had two dinner deliveries, a spa gift package with nice-smelling things (which I need!), and a much-appreciated "house call" from my dear doctor Huma and her family, complete with pink roses. We've had so many calls and e-mails expressing support and good wishes. You guys are so great--I hope I will live many long years to return the many favors!

Thanks again so much!

May you live in interesting times ?!

Ancient Chinese curse? Perhaps....It's real life for Lisa today!

Today was a long, arduous, "interesting" day. I hope surgery will not be a frequent activity for me because it's just not that much fun.

And may I just say I don't want to hear any belly-aching about routine mammograms, ladies. I had the two-hour mammo from you-know-where this morning as prep for my surgery and I'm still kicking. That five minute squeeze is NOTHING, girls.

I am fully awake and lucid (I think) for the first time since 10:00 AM but I took the Rush Limbaugh drug-of-choice 30 minutes ago, so I'll be loopy again soon--and I have an excuse. Rush's loopy doesn't wear off with the Oxycodone.

Johns Hopkins was impressive. They took really good care of me, and I'm glad I made that choice. I'm in a bit of pain but nothing I can't deal with. I think my sore throat and raspiness from the intubation is as bothersome as the incisions.

Nodes are clear!

12:45pm just talked to Dr Lange. Nodes are clear - which is major good news!! We won't get to see her for 45 to 60 mins. More later. Jeff

Hurry Up and Wait

It's 11:40am Day Of Surgery. Lisa went to the OR almost 2 hours ago. My hope is she is done but no one has told us yet. We arrived over 6 hours ago and it's all been "hurry up and wait." I can't do much detail from my phone (lacking Jenna's tiny fast fingers) - but promised Lisa I would send an update to her fans! The only real news is that the mammography took a very long time and guided a decision to remove a larger lump than originally planned. I'm not really sure what that all means right now, but we came here to get rid of all the bad stuff - so all we can do is hope and pray for the best. Keep us in your thoughts today and I will try to update later in the day. Jeff

An Update on Mr. George

My dad is doing fine after his procedure on Monday--he took it very much in stride (probably because he wasn't watching!). I was there today and he's comfortable and relaxed. We'll take him back for a follow-up in a week.

We are so very lucky to have him in assisted living with the enhanced care.

I was out at my parents' house today looking through everything we're packing up--pictures, family history, my wedding dress (!). I brought the mantle clock from my grandparents' house home to live with me--the tick-tock of my childhood!

I am sad to say goodbye to the house where George and Ginnie spent over twenty happy years, but they aren't there......so it's time.

Boy, do I miss my mom right now. Thank goodness, she is still the voice I hear in my head.

In Bocca al Lupo

I hope my Italian sister Federica will forgive me, but I want to share a sample of the wonderful wishes I've gotten in the last few days with surgery approaching Monday.

This one really meant the world to me. I was an exchange student with the Avico family in 1977 and they are as dear to me today as they were then.

I am blessed.
Tanti baci e abbracci!
.................................................................

in bocca al lupo from Italians friends‏
From: federica avico
Sent: Sat 6/13/09 4:38 PM

dear Lisa I've joined your blog but I've to practise ...I 've to learn how to use it. How 's your father? I hope he is better. You can not imagine how difficult is for me to write in english and how much i would like to know this language better.There are so many things and feeling that I would like to share with you. You have to know that we all will be with you on monday with ours hearts .and ..we are sure that everythings will go in the best way.

IN BOCCA AL LUPO!!!
LOVE FROM ALL
federica andrea pietro tommaso maria federico chiara
..............................................................

By the way, the internet tells me "in bocca al lupo" is an Italian euphemism meaning "good luck." The literal translation is "in the mouth of the wolf" which is often said to someone undertaking a task; in response the person often replies "crepi" which means something like "may the wolf die," in a sense securing the luck. It's kind of like "break a leg."

Boy, am I ever in the wolf's mouth this time......CREPI !!

Icky...Icky...Icky

Today was a yuk day...

My dad had his in-office procedure on his head. I'll spare you the less than savory details, but suffice it to say, I bet few of you have seen the innards of your loved ones heads!?!
I am spent....

May I just say...I would like to divorce my right breast and turn back the clock fifteen years to revisit my happy healthy parents just out the road.

I need to sleep and refind my optimism.....

On a more positive note

While I'm playing computer, I want to take a moment to salute my best friends and allies--Jeff, Matt and Jenna.

We get along so well together when we travel (and at home, too). We laugh, we talk, we tease. It's just plain great to be around them 24/7.

Jeff and I marvel at our good fortune in birthing these two funny, smart people. Watching them together is fantastic--their close relationship gives me so much satisfaction.

The prospect of spending another 30 or 40 years with these people is too great to miss.

I will not fail.

Grey Skies

We came home from the UK Wednesday....the let-down arrived Thursday. After 10 days of sunshine and distraction, we had rain, fog and reality.

My dad needs some type of repair to his head--it's so very hard to know the right thing to do. After all, in his case it IS brain surgery. Or very close by.....

We have his house to empty if the sale is really going to happen....

We have a business to run....with two weeks of backlogged work....

And, oh gee--I still have cancer.
I need to make decisions and arrangements and get ready for THE SHOW.
.............................

Okay--I've whined. My cheery veneer does slip occasionally. I'm finding it's about every third day, actually.
But it's Saturday...the sun is shining...I've had my tea.

So, with due credit to my muses Barack Obama and Diana Krall, it's time to pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.

I'll take the high road....

The Scottish West Highlands are amazing--the area reminds me a lot of northern Italy. We've driven around the most wonderful scenic lakes (lochs) and mountain roads.

The weather has been typical for a Poland trip, but not for the British Isles. We bring bizarre extremes to our travel destinations--in this case, a heat wave in England and Scotland, with cloudless sunny skies and temperatures in the 80's. It's tough to get enthusiastic about buying wool sweaters, for certain. Everybody packed for rain and 50 degree weather, so we're out of short sleeve shirts!

We head to Glasgow tomorrow, with a very early flight Wednesday morning.
...................................

Speaking of the high road, it time to return to reality....

My high road will be preparing for surgery and treatment with a positive attitude. As I've said--and I need to be continuously reminded--I don't have to fly this plane. I just need to be confident and take the ride (a Xanax or two may be in order!).

...................................................................

And speaking of planes.....we are out here in the hinterlands and a (freaking!) fighter jet just flew over our hotel....it sounded like it was about 100 feet over the tree tops. Scotland is weird.....

Cheers, and so long from the UK.

Travel--Good for What Ails You

We are one week into our trip to England and Scotland to see Matt. My disloyal breast did manage to follow me here--mighty nervy of her--but she is remaining relatively quiet.

York was the perfect Disney-esque English town, with the amazing York Minster towing over winding streets that look like 1709, not 2009. Edinburgh, Scotland is a cosmopolitan hiptown with the most wonderful old castle sitting way up on a dormant volcano right in the middle of everything. We drove to Stirling Castle yesterday--Matt's "favorite castle"--and had a grand time wondering around the ramparts in the uncharacteristic sunshine we've enjoyed through most of the week.

The countryside is a springtime dream (except for all the nuclear power plants!)--fields of flowers, grazing sheep with their new babies, tall grass rippling in the breeze. Matt of course loves to torment Jenna by telling her repeatedly how he's reminded to have a tasty lamb dinner later in the evening!

Today, we press onward to the Scottish Highlands.

I am so very thankful for this distraction. Jeff the travel guru timed this one perfectly.

............................................................................

On another happy note, my father's house apparently has finally sold after one year on the market--I am much relieved because this is the money which will keep him in comfort in assisted living.

On a less-happy note for my dad, he will need plastic surgery next week to repair some trouble at the site of his prior brain surgery. A very scary and dangerous situation I'm afraid.

The Brants are having a bumpy spring. Think positive thoughts.....we're going to need them!

People are great

May I just take a moment to say how very wonderful my fellow humans are........

I've had the best hugs, the sweetest--and funniest--phone calls and e-mails, beautiful cards, and a world of other heartfelt good wishes.

I think we all forget sometimes how these simple gestures really matter. I hope this experience helps me to be more aware of expressing my support or my concern.

Thank you, people.

Decisions, decisions

Today was Hopkins consult day.

Long story short, it's the right place at the right time. I will be having a lumpectomy there bright and early on Monday, June 15th (report time 5:30 AM!? for a 9 AM surgery).

Everyone there was extremely informative and helpful, and of course the facility is huge and impressive. It was the detailed attention paid to ME and to my case that won the day. Amazingly, the pathology slides from my biopsy were shown and evaluated at the "daily departmental quality assurance conference" to the entire pathology staff! How's that for attention? They actually fine-tuned my diagnosis a bit from the path lab in NY.

Also, the delegate my sister works for in Annapolis has a daughter who is a pathologist at Hopkins. We've been trying to connect for a few days to see if she could help me in some way. Anyway, she saw my slides at the department meeting before she realized they belonged to her phone-tag buddy! She called me this afternoon as I was headed up the road, and she is most optimistic about my prognosis. She said, "If you have to have breast cancer, this is the kind to have."

So, that's the scoop. HOPKINS, here I come (after a lovely sidetrip to England and Scotland!).

Happy Birthday, Sweet _ _!

My very dear sister Anne is celebrating a birthday tomorrow that ends with a zero..................

I'm looking forward to celebrating with many family members tomorrow evening in Baltimore. Then on Thursday, bright and early, Anne will take me to Hopkins.

I know the support of my family will be the glue that holds me together in the weeks and years ahead. So, a toast to my sister, a very important member of my "team." I know she'll return the favor and toast me on many birthdays to come.

I love you, Anne.

Manic Monday

Today I worked a full day and I'm exhausted. I guess my cut back in hours last week made me soft! I feel overwhelmed with details...cancer stuff, travel stuff, father stuff, blah...blah...blah. On a positive note, we have rehired a previous employee to help pick up the slack--she will be doing a lot of my stuff while I'm in and out. I'm relieved.

My Kindle came! It's so cute and easy to use. I love my prize. I've been a little cranky/sad today and it made me feel better.

I did my walk...impressive...two whole days in a row. Give me twenty years at this pace and I might be back in shape! Oh well--gotta start somewhere.

Tomorrow I will be sunnier.

35 minutes

Walked 35 minutes...it's a start.

It's that math again

My book says 80% of breast cancer occurs after age 50. The quote..."your risk of getting breast cancer before the age of 50 is very small."

Lucky me--I'm on the wrong side of yet another math equation.

Commitment

I've been reading about the possible causes of breast cancer and thinking about how I'm going to keep from getting it again once I'm fixed this time.

POSSIBLE CAUSES:
*Being overweight...more likely to get breast cancer...
*Not exercising....more likely to get breast cancer...
*Drinking alcohol...more likely to get breast cancer...
*Stress--?? Who knows.

THE PLAN:
*Try to exercise at least 4 hours per week--this lowers breast cancer risk a lot (58%). I need to walk at least 30 minutes+ each day. PERIOD. (And to the rest of you, take heed)
*Drop the vino unless it's a special occasion--farewell K-J Chardonnay. For those of you still partaking, the books say to be sure to take a multivitamin and especially to make sure you're getting enough folic acid.
*Find a way to eat less fat--one books recommends a diet of 20% fat or less, little red meat, etc., etc. So, Lisa--it's time to get your eating as well as your butt in shape.

I'm going to try, people.

Surgeon #1 + My Kindle Prize

On Friday I saw my first surgeon-Dr Stasko in Cumberland. On balance the visit was pretty uneventful.

He recommends a lumpectomy with radiation to follow--the need for chemo will be determined by the biopsy of the sentinel lymph node (which happens during the lumpectomy surgery). This sentinel lymph node procedure is a newer strategy that avoids a big armpit incision to remove all the armpit nodes if the first one is clear. If there's a sign of spread in the 1st node, they all come out later in the surgery. My MRI on Wednesday showed normal-looking nodes--they may not be normal upon biopsy examination, but so far it's positive.

So, at least in Cumberland, I would have a lumpectomy and be home same day unless I need the bigger lymph node removal. Then it's a one-night stay. The surgery would be at Braddock Hospital, aka Sacred Heart.

I'm going to the Johns Hopkins Breast Cancer Center next Thursday to see Dr. Julie Lange for a consultation. Her bio says she brought the sentinel node procedure to JHU--I guess that means she's a pretty heavy hitter.

I am leaning toward having surgery in Baltimore and oncology in Cumberland as my friend Shelly did, but I'll make my final decision after next week.

My brain is full, but I'm feeling okay. I bought myself a Kindle yesterday (the electronic wireless book gadget from Amazon). I figure I'll be spending many hours in waiting rooms and treatment rooms over the next few months, so I'll always have good reading. Dr Kim had one in the consultation room at the radiology office the other day, and he showed the details of the Kindle after showing me the details of my breast--WEIRD. He's a pretty serious fellow, but the Kindle-talk made him smile!

Final thought--I ran into one of our patients on the street in Cumberland last night at Friday After Five. She mentioned having a challenging week (although she was laughing and had a big smile), and I noticed the visible gauze under her armpit. I said, "Do you mind if I ask--did you just have surgery for breast cancer?" and she said yes. She hugged me and spent the next few minutes offering to help me when I said I'm newly diagnosed.....

The message: it's all around us--surgeries, money troubles, aging parents, troubled children. People are leading lives of quiet desperation, as Mr. Thoreau said. But optimism, perseverence and humor are also there in the face of daunting odds.

I admire her spirit to help me in the midst of her own troubles. I will try to keep my eyes open and to do the same.

And so the adventure begins

Monday, May 11, 2009
This is the e-mail I sent "to come out of the closet."

So...family and friends. I have some news.

I had an abnormal mammogram two weeks ago (no lump--just the routine annual deal) and I had a follow-up biopsy last Monday. The statistics were way in my favor--80-85% benign for microcalcifications.

However...the results of the biopsy are in...and as usual, a Poland is on the wrong side of a math equation. What can I say--we're word people.

Anyway, I do have signs of malignancy in my right breast--I guess it's time to say breast cancer.

On the good side, the first impression is that the cancer is at a very early stage. So--the adventure begins....I'll need more tests to figure out exactly what's going on and where.

Step #1--an MRI this week and then visits to a local surgeon and an oncologist. It looks like I'll also be headed to Johns Hopkins for a consultation at their breast cancer center. Then the decisions begin. I will certainly be having surgery, probably in early June, the extent of which is TBA. At the moment it looks like our previously planned trip in two weeks to see Matt in England will go forward--prior to the surgery.

Forgive the impersonal e-mail delivery, but I really can't picture walking up to people one by one and saying "Hey, guess what.....". The telling and retelling of crappy news is just exhausting. I'm actually considering setting up up a blog for those poor perverse few who want to keep up with this odyssey. I've always been a frustrated writer!

I appreciate everyone's support--I know I'll need you moving forward. Lisa