Over analyzing

Me: "Brent I can't tell if I'm wanting to cry because of post-surgery crash, hormones, lack of hormones, cancer, kids are gone, or if I'm just over-analyzing."

Brent: "Really? I'm going with over-analyzing."

Me: "Yeah, good call."

I have some pain, but minimal and I can get up and around pretty well. I definitely need to keep busy because otherwise I'm going to sit around thinking about and therefore creating pain somewhere in my body. With nothing to do I could stub my toe and decide it's inflamed and it's a side effect of something. I can get pretty creative when my brain really goes for it! 

I have some bloating still, but it's getting better. I should have taken a series of progression pictures. It would be like backwards of pregnant belly pictures. 1 day along bloated, 2 days minimal bloatage, 3 days ate a large dinner, 4 days normalish! Probably not gallery worthy...

I learned of someone today who has had cancer for 20 years and I had no idea. I'm obviously not thrilled that they have it, but it helps to hear stories like that. He doesn't advertise it, he's not venting about horrible it is, it's just a part of his life at this point. More proof that that Internet searching stuff is ridiculous. I should shut Internet off at my house at 9pm or something. Those late night what ifs are a rough gig. I'm still trying to figure out how to minimize those. Funny stuff helps, Tina Fey books and entertaining e-mails from Nell keep me distracted. Maybe I'll try some aversion therapy. Every time I have a negative thought I'll do push-ups as punishment to teach my brain that they're bad. I hate push-ups that would be horrible. I can imagine Brent wondering why his wife's on the floor in the middle of the night...

Enough rambling...

Ovaries clear

They tested the ovaries for cancer, and there isn't any. They had a board of people review the results to make sure it was accurate and they found none. Wheeeee!!!

Little bored

Just on ibuprofen at this point, which is all sorts of exciting. Less loopy, more awake, and good to drive. There's definitely some stomach bloating going on from the gas they had to pump into me. It's a unique experience to have that going on.

I'm basically sitting around reading, Internet surfing, crossword puzzling, texting anyone and everyone, and catching up on celebrity gossip through a giant pile of magazines. The first few hours were fun... I did walk the loop twice...

Tomorrow there will be a bit more venturing out, mainly for sanity. I can definitely feel some ache when I move around much, I walk with a pregnant-like waddle. We'll see what tomorrow brings!

Thankful

I feel great today! Some ache, but minimal. I'm still a little medicine headish from the half a pain pill I'm taking, but not bad. I'll be resting and reading and laying low today. Dr. Fox is the lady that did the surgery business. She said it went great, and while they were digging around in there they took some pictures, looking for anything cancerous. She said it looked clean. Apparently I have clean innards. 😊  Who knew!?

I go back for a post-op appointment next Wednesday. After that I should be able to start the new pill and work on shrinking those lung suckers.

I'm waiting for some menopausal effects, but they're not here yet thankfully! Maybe they'll show just in time for me to freak out in front of a room of freshman. I'll try not to scare them, but I make no promises. 

I really feel like I've had a pretty amazing group of medical people working for me. All of them have been very good at what they do, and kind. It relieves so much of the stress!

Thanks for your continued support and love and prayers!

Home

I'm wiped out, but I'm home. I will definitely not be running a marathon tomorrow, but I feel pretty good. Lots of books & magazines & a great caretaker in Brent. :)

Pre-surgery ritual...

I got to go back to school today! I totally mean that, I got to go to school today and see my school family. There are 1,000 reasons why I like these people. They make me laugh, they make me feel loved, they're caring and amazing. It is so incredibly clear to me why I work and live here. That thing in the background in the picture? Yup, that's a margarita machine. Where did it come from you ask!? From my school family. They surprised me and I was shocked and thrilled and of course flattered. There may have been some jumping up and down on my part, I don't recall. I have a bit(?) of a whining joke at school that teaching would be much easier if there was a margarita machine in the staff room. Some contributed money, the idea was thrown out there by the big bad principal himself, and the shopping got to be conducted by the wonderful office ladies that actually run everything. Our staff meeting today included the presentation of this beast along with some kind words and such. There were plenty of actual work type things that happened too, but who knows what they were. Seriously, how cool is this!!?? Also for the record. That sweet shirt I'm wearing, it was my Grandpa Leon's. He made the best margaritas in all the land. I know he'll be with me tomorrow too.

Ann, my very favorite Southern accented math teacher gave me some supplies for managing the mood swings. Books to make me laugh, and other things that I can beat on in times of duress without harming myself or others. :) My beautiful friend Ali made us dinner we'll have for tomorrow, and I of course have some pretty purple flowers that say "get ready for Aunt Flashie." Hahahaha.

The kids are on their way to Tillamook right now to hang out with Rick & Debbie. Cannon is thrilled to get to have dinner on the boat one night, back to school shopping, etc. They'll be back Saturday night ish. While Brent and I really have no idea what's in store for us for the next couple of days/weeks/years, we are somewhat looking forward to a few days of quiet. We have a great excuse to not have to go anywhere, relaxing and sleeping are the only things on the agenda. Oh and some possible vicodin. Promise I won't try out the margarita machine while that's happening.

I feel really really good about tomorrow. Apparently I'm on a huge upswing on the roller coaster of emotions (or the margarita is kicking in). I'm sure there are downs out there, but we'll recover and keep going. They will take some pictures of my organs tomorrow while they're cruising around in there to make sure there isn't anything else floating around. I'm sure I'm good, Finn the cancer sniffing dog would have identified it by now. 

Some advice I received today made me smile. "A good mindset will work wonders, but there will be times when it won't, and you have to be forgiving of yourself because you are human."

Let's do this!

PS - if you didn't get a margarita machine at work today, I'm sorry that your coworkers are not as awesome as mine. 

PPS - I promise I'll drink lots of water shortly so my body's ready for tomorrow too. 

So loved

I love this card! Thank you Cindy!! I'm eating a box of chocolates that were given to me, I have a new fluffy blanket to watch the storm under, and words of wisdom, kindness, and definitely laughter (thanks Melodie) in cards & letters. I love my friends and family, I feel spoiled. I am ready for surgery and whatever comes with it. 

Advocate!

I have learned you have to advocate for yourself in the whole medical world. I went in for a blood draw years ago, and Atilla the Hun dug around in my arm until I'm pretty sure the needle came out my elbow. I sat there quietly grimacing thinking it was just my veins, she was doing fine. Duh. I went in a week later because Atilla hadn't taken care of the sample in time and we had to have a do over. The next woman saw my bruised arm and was in shock. I finally realized that It wasn't normal to feel a needle stick through your elbow. 

After that awakening I started speaking up a bit. "Um, my veins are kinda hard to handle." I thought this would do it, but no. Blood draws have been an experience of Atillas, women with twitches, raise your hand over your head, slapping the veins, etc. Today was a pre-op blood draw. I sat down and said "ok, it has to be my right arm, it's been a little difficult at times, they usually think the needle is in, then as they start to draw it pops out & we have to start again. What has worked is a tube like structure on the end of a needle." (Today I learned that situation is a butterfly) 

One attempt, needle in, no elbow, no bruising, blood drawn, home. 

They have a lot of training in the medical world, I have to train them for me.

Thoughts that go...

So here's where I'm living... About 90% of the time I am great, I know I'm fine, I will be fine, all is good. Everyone has emotions that fluctuate whether there is stress in your life or not, right? Maybe that 90%, is a little lower, maybe 80%? There are times when I can feel myself start to go down the scary road. I know it's normal. I know human nature needs something to stress about, so of course when my emotions need an outlet, that's where we go.

The upswings are great, literally no fear of the future, I just enjoy the moment. I know in my heart I will be 90 years old, I know that medical advances are being made as we speak, new drugs, new methods, new stuff is happening all the time. Even if my drugs don't work forever by the time they wear off there will be another one to try. There are still bumps out there, but we can do it.

The downswings are tougher. It's not very often, and I can usually attribute it to not eating well, not sleeping well, or just a normal down in the roller coaster of emotions. This part of the menopause worries me. I feel like downswings are more likely. It is somewhat entertaining to explore where the brain goes in these times. Last night I was tired and didn't eat very well all weekend. I coughed once, and immediately I thought "is that the spot!? Am I feeling it? Does it hurt?" I then of course focused on my lung and was convinced it was growing and I was coughing because of it. Today for the record, there is no feeling/pain/cough in my lung. Finn, my dog, was following me around the house last night too. She's a lab, of course she's following me. However, in my rational state I thought "dogs can sense things, can she sense that I'm getting sick? Can she sense that something is in there!? Do I have the wonder cancer sniffing dog!?" Really Melissa? That's the thought process? That this dog that eats camp chairs can sense cancer. Yeah, good call!

Things that help in the downswings:
1. Max & Cannon. They are hilarious and kind and obnoxious all at the same time. They always make me feel like a normal mom. How can anything be that severe when Cannon has constant peanut butter and jelly on his face, and Max is dancing to "Bubble Butt." (Totally inappropriate song, don't let your kids listen to it, they've only heard the first 30 seconds).
2. Brent. I know it freaks him out when I get stressed, but he hides it and let's me do my thing. He doesn't try to point out the irrationality of a cancer sniffing dog, he just rolls with it. He pours me a glass of wine and waits for me to reel myself back in, or he finds some way to make me laugh.
3. My parents. They're really good at bringing me back to rational. They make me feel like I'm in control of the goings-on
4. Support. I read and re-read cards and letters from friends and family.
5. Stories and books about survivors. I seek these out as soon as I feel that lump in my stomach. I search the internet (carefully) for people that have had scary diagnoses and are doing great. I read their stories and follow their links to other stories. I just received a book from a friend of another survivor of 10 years. (The first thing I do is calculate the number of years since they've been diagnosed) There are plenty of people that have told their stories or are writing about their victories, and I know there are even more that haven't written about it. There are tons of them out there. It almost makes you feel like it's not all that remarkable. Surviving cancer is just a normal thing. Perfect.

Something else we all need to remember. People (myself included) are more likely to write about the bad stuff. It's an outlet and it feels good to vent it all out, or to seek out someone else in the same boat. If I seek out "side effects of arimidex" I will find all sorts of negatives. There aren't very many people that say they have none. I know they're out there, but it's nothing to have to write about. It's not a problem to have to solve, they're just living and doing great. This is not the end of the world. It's something people have been through/are going through and they are thriving. I'm just another one of them.

Finn just started growling at something outside. There's nothing there. Perhaps there's a cancer cell floating on air...

If you have stories of others that are doing great, I'd love to hear them.

Surgery scheduled for August 28th

I'm in! Well, I'm on the schedule anyway. Dr. Linda Fox will do the procedure, and after meeting with her today, I like her. The big (exciting?) news is that they will knock me out for this, so I won't have to know what's happening. Soooo relieved!

They basically fill my stomach up with gas and bloat it out so they can maneuver. There will be 3 scars, one in the belly button, and one on each side of my stomach. I'll go home that day, and have to take it easy for a while. The doctor says to plan to be away from work for a couple of weeks. As long as I'm careful, I should be fine. It's hard to judge how long recovery is because everybody handles things differently. I think they're more concerned with my emotional state than anything. Usually if menopause is involved, there are drugs to assist, but I can't take any of those. I recovered from my other surgery 5 years ago pretty quickly, so I think I'll be good.

Basically the side effects I'm looking at are all the glorious menopausal stuff, which means it's different for everyone. Of course it is. It could be a few weeks of bursting into tears in no time, it could be five years, etc. We get to wait and see. I will do some acupuncture to see if that helps my frame of mind, but I think I'll be fine. As long as I know why I'm bursting into tears then I think I can handle it. Until my mood stabilizes, I'll just stay away from the Hallmark channel, country music, sappy movies, and Nicholas Sparks books. No problem!

The kids will go to Tillamook for an extended weekend. They know I'm having surgery and they know I might get sad sometimes. They've seen a lot of that this summer, so I think we'll all be ok. There have been a lot of conversations this summer reminding all of us that it's ok to cry. As my Grandma Madge says, "just cry, it makes you feel better." Man she's a smart cookie. Both Max & Cannon are amazing little dudes. They take good care of each other and us, and they understand when mom's stressed to keep your distance. Max one time asked Joy what "negative" meant. He said "mom said it and I didn't know what it meant, but she was mad and I didn't think I should interrupt to ask." Ha ha! I love that kid.

I have an ultrasound tomorrow, a pre-op appointment next Wednesday, some blood work in there somewhere, and the ovary sucking on the 28th. Wheee!!! :) Next steps are on the calendar, it feels good.

Doctor visit today!

I meet with Dr Fox today about the ooph-da procedure. Side effects, process, etc. I think it's tentatively scheduled for the 28th. I have an ultrasound tomorrow just so the dr can know exactly what's in there. I'm prone to cysts, so she needs to know where they are, size, etc. I'm anxious for the next part of the process!

Wooooo Hoooooo!!!!

I love Dr. Lee. Brent and I spent an hour talking with her today, and both of us left feeling soooo much better and much more optimistic. She asked how the visit to OHSU went and I told her it was horrible. They gave us all negative information, with little optimism. Dr Lee's response: "yeah, that doctor is kind of new..."

Stage four is an automatic assignment when cancer has spread. Like Dad said, it goes from your toes to you nose, boom, "stage 4." It's just the medical world's way to identify it. "Incurable" was my other favorite word they threw at us at OHSU, and Dr. Lee said it's another technical term when it's stage four. It has the possibility to be cruising around in there, but it can also be thought of more like a chronic illness. For instance, high blood pressure is a chronic illness that you take a pill for for the rest of your life. Same case here. She said yes, sometimes people don't make it, but considering my health, age and attitude, she thinks I'll be just fine. WOOOO HOOOOO!! I love her.

Dr. Lee went over all the scans with me and showed us pictures of what's going on, which I so appreciate. She also had a picture of the biopsy needle going through my chest into my lung. Holy crap, that's a framer! The tumor board met this morning (what a fun gig that must be, huh?) and they reviewed my file. While they felt sorry that it's back, they were floored that anybody even caught it this early when it's so small. Nobody catches it this early, but Dr. Lee does! Give that woman a cape. They were also amazed at the doctor that did the biopsy. It had to be incredibly accurate to dodge ribs, hit a 1cm target, and not go anywhere near the heart. He was good, I may send him a thank you. Tumor board consensus: sucks that it's back, but best case scenario considering my health.

NO CHEMO!!!!!! Basically chemotherapy at this point wouldn't make sense considering the tumor isn't bothering me at all. I feel nothing, I am totally healthy, so there's no point in doing chemotherapy to shrink it from 1 cm to .5 cm when the Arimidex drug will probably shrink it/kill it/leave it dormant.

We won't do any surgery to try to remove it. Here's why. It's in the lung, so obviously a pretty intense surgery. There is actually more than one nodule that seems to be "concerning," that are crazy small. They can hardly see them on the scans, so there's the possibility there are more cancer cells cruising around in there that they wouldn't be able to see. If they do surgery, they'd scrape out all they can see, obviously leaving scarring, etc. Cancer cells that they can't see would love the scarring and could go nuts and grow faster in that environment.

The drugs: I currently take tamoxifen, which has the goal of bonding to estrogen cells and killing them. Because I am estrogen central (all girly all the time), tamoxifen isn't finding them all. Surgery to remove ovaries will drop estrogen levels within 24 hours (more on that in a bit), then Arimidex will block any remaining estrogen that's trying to hang out in there. Arimidex has pretty good info so far, and somewhat hard to record because there are so many women still cruising along beautifully with it.

Why didn't we do the ovary thing five years ago? The tumor board said this morning they wouldn't have let me because it's a bone density issue. Menopause and Arimidex not so great for your bones. This will be something we'll have to monitor and keep track of in the future, but at this point there are several drugs to help with that. I got some supplements from the chick yesterday for that as well. This is the biggest downside to the whole ovary sucking.

I asked Dr. Lee about the homeopathic stuff as well. She said the only thing that is recognized by the cancer society as being beneficial is exercising at least 4 times a week for at least 20 minutes (yeah, got that covered), and eating a balanced diet, not too hard core into protein, not all carbs, just balanced. I asked her about the gluten free, she said my body isn't gluten intolerant so gluten isn't necessarily causing inflammation, so it may not be helpful. Brent and I both feel like being much more conscious of fruits and veggies, and less packaged food, etc would be smart, and we have done that already this summer. I will take the supplements that I got yesterday, they should help with bone density and helping my liver to process calcium more effectively, but I'm not going to do the injections, or go nuts on any one diet. I am healthy with my morning coffee and creamer, and an occasional beer. A little bit of doctor world and a little bit of homeopathic world feels good, and feels like the right thing to do.

The procedure: When Dr. Lee doesn't want to tell me something, she pauses and kind of "hmmm"s at me. I asked her about the oophorectomy, which is a laproscopic deal. They make 2 incisions in my stomach, go straight in and suck out the ovaries. I asked her if I would be knocked out for this procedure, which is when she paused and started "hmmmmm." Cool, more awake surgery situations. RADICAL. There is an epidural involved, didn't think I'd have another one of those after Cannon, and Dr. Lee said she had it done, and the smell wasn't pleasant. However, it's an in and out procedure that just has some intense emotional side effects. If somebody goes with me, it can't be Brent because he'll pass out, so if they'll let anyone else, it'll be my dad. If not, I'll put Vix under my nose, and have my iPod full of songs by Pink.

Next: Wait. Again. Dr. Fox (female, can't remember the first name) was recommended by Dr. Lee for the ooph - a - ... She says she's really good. I wait for her to call (Monday at the latest) to schedule a consultation so we can talk about all the gloriousness that is menopause. Then we schedule the procedure. I asked if we could have it done before I go back to school, they're trying hard to make that happen. I asked about hormones after this procedure, and apparently the estrogen levels drop in 24 hours. Some women have estrogen levels dropping over the course of a few years, mine will plummet in a day. The next 1-2 weeks could be an emotional train wreck. Brent is currently looking for places to stay for these 2 weeks. :) I think we should invite anybody that wants to come to watch the chaos ensue. Bring a video camera, a journal and some popcorn because it's going to be interesting.

We will monitor protein levels in the blood (our first indication this time) to make sure they are diminishing after I start the drugs. We will probably have a CT scan in December ish to make sure the tumors aren't getting any bigger, then regular blood work should be all that is needed to monitor and maintain the goings-on. We will do regular liver function checks (also through blood work) and do some bone density things to check on those conditions.

At the end of the appointment, Brent and I both hugged Dr. Lee. She said she loves my attitude and we can do it. Three other people in her office poked their heads in to say hi while we were there. I love it. Gary has been fielding my calls for the last 2 months, and has been amazingly kind and patient with me, Christina was my surgeon's assistant 5 years ago, so she came and said hi, and the nurse Jeanette always remembers to ask about Max & Cannon. So so nice. I feel great, ALL IS WELL IN MY WORLD.

Thank you for your continued thoughts, prayers, hugs, support. If you're interested in a front row seat for the menopausal dialogues, let me know. Love you.

Anthroposophical

I went to see an anthroposophical doctor yesterday. Yeah, I think that's all the letters... Kind of like a naturopath, homeopathic doctor. I was curious to see what ideas she would have about diet or supplements that would help me stay healthy. We talked for about an hour and a half, and everything she said made a lot of sense. I don't know why, but I left feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it's just hormones, but it was frustrating. I should have been excited there were that many options I guess. There was so much that she suggested that I think it just seemed like a lot all at once. There are supplements she suggested, mistletoe injections even, foods to avoid (alcohol, dang it!), and she suggested I look at a gluten free diet. Gluten basically causes inflammation and cancer cells love inflammation, so minimizing that makes sense, but ugh.

There is so much information to wade through, and everybody thinks they have the right answer, so how do you know which answer is the right one for you? Everybody is different, and everyone handles things differently... just ugh. On one hand I obviously want to try anything that will help me, but how do I know it will really help?

I head to my oncologist today. I am looking forward to seeing her. I feel like she takes good care of me, but we will see what she has to say. All appointments lately have shown high blood pressure which is rare for me, so apparently there are some nerves at play. I am hoping that we will get the oophorectomy scheduled (ovary sucking), and get that part of things going, but who knows. I'll talk to my doctor about the anthro lady and see what she thinks. I'm guessing she won't be into it, but who knows. I'll keep you posted!

No chemo??

We have spent the week in Montana and are now headed home. It was beautiful and relaxing and great. I have scheduled an appointment with a sort of naturopath for Tuesday, and I finally meet with my regular oncologist on Wednesday. I'm a little nervous just because its another doctor that has the potential to scare the crap out of me, but I am anxious to have decisions made. If Doctor Lee agrees with the OHSU lady, then the good news is no chemo. I keep my eyebrows, I won't have to miss any of the little dudes stuff, and I can work and live normally. I love that! I will always have this in the back of my mind, but everyday it gets a little easier. Every day there's a longer period of time that I don't think about it. There are countless stories of women in similar situations to mine that are doing great. I kind of want to be angry at the OHSU dr for trying to kill my hope, but anger won't get me anywhere, so I'll let that go.