Had port put in today. Ouch, it hurts. And I had to fast and didn't get to eat until after 1:00 pm. Pretty tough considering I ususally eat breakfast at 6 am.
Can’t bath until Thursday. Oh joy.
Barbara L. called. She made me feel a lot better about all this. We talked about her experience. She told me some things that happened that they didn’t warn her about. Like something they call "ants in your pants" while getting the chemo. Oh, joy.
Told Bobbi M. I have breast cancer. She waved her hand dismissively and said, "Oh, I've had that." That was the best response I've gotten yet.
Things I want to do someday: Take a whale watching cruise.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
PET scan
Had the PET scan today and some lab work in preparation for the day surgery Monday when they'll put a port in my chest for the chemo treatments.
The purpose of the PET scan is to see if there is any cancer cells in body organs. For the PET scan they give you radioactive sugar. It goes to your organs targeting cancer cells and areas of activity. So after they give you the contrast they want you to lay around for an hour and a half and not read or think too much because they don't want you to have a lot of brain activity. That can cause the contrast to go to your brain and not to cancer cells and then they could miss something. Do you know how hard it is to sit quietly for an hour and a half and not read, or plan out the plot of my work in progress or at least recite poetry memorized in junior high school just to avoid going crazy of bordom?
I lived through it somehow and she managed to do the scan so I guess I was sufficiently empty headed.
The purpose of the PET scan is to see if there is any cancer cells in body organs. For the PET scan they give you radioactive sugar. It goes to your organs targeting cancer cells and areas of activity. So after they give you the contrast they want you to lay around for an hour and a half and not read or think too much because they don't want you to have a lot of brain activity. That can cause the contrast to go to your brain and not to cancer cells and then they could miss something. Do you know how hard it is to sit quietly for an hour and a half and not read, or plan out the plot of my work in progress or at least recite poetry memorized in junior high school just to avoid going crazy of bordom?
I lived through it somehow and she managed to do the scan so I guess I was sufficiently empty headed.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Thursday
We’re about to leave for Shreveport to see the docs. Somebody stop this ride, I want to get off.
Later...We met Dr. Dasgupta, the oncologist. The Cancer Treatment Center at Schumpert was on the ball. If nothing else it inspires confidence. Not like going to NPH. Dr. Dasgupta explained how they determine the extent of the cancer and all the factors involved and I’m going to have to research this and absorb it much slower because it all made sense as he explained it and it all promptly disappeared from my brain after we left. The only thing remaining is this: in addition to the lump I could feel, there is cancer in the lymph nodes under my armpit and of course the one in my neck. We are at Stage IIIC. Not good.
We’re looking at one treatment of chemo every three weeks for four treatments then repeat with a different type of chemo. Expect to lose my hair after the second treatment or so.
Dr. Marler says we’ll do a lumpectomy after the eight treatments have shrunk the breast tumors. The one in my neck is a problem. We are hoping it shrinks because they can’t remove it with surgery.
Things I'm thankful for: Living in Natchitoches. So many people have expressed concern and asked how they could help.
Later...We met Dr. Dasgupta, the oncologist. The Cancer Treatment Center at Schumpert was on the ball. If nothing else it inspires confidence. Not like going to NPH. Dr. Dasgupta explained how they determine the extent of the cancer and all the factors involved and I’m going to have to research this and absorb it much slower because it all made sense as he explained it and it all promptly disappeared from my brain after we left. The only thing remaining is this: in addition to the lump I could feel, there is cancer in the lymph nodes under my armpit and of course the one in my neck. We are at Stage IIIC. Not good.
We’re looking at one treatment of chemo every three weeks for four treatments then repeat with a different type of chemo. Expect to lose my hair after the second treatment or so.
Dr. Marler says we’ll do a lumpectomy after the eight treatments have shrunk the breast tumors. The one in my neck is a problem. We are hoping it shrinks because they can’t remove it with surgery.
Things I'm thankful for: Living in Natchitoches. So many people have expressed concern and asked how they could help.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Wednesday
Called Sherry @ Dr. Marler's. Asked her if she could make us an appointment with the oncologist for the same day. I’d like to reduce the number of trips to Shreveport as much as possible. If you want something done go to the person who does the job. We have appointments for tomorrow with Dr. Marler and Dr. Dasgupta.
My biggest fear: Many people already know this about me, but I've been afraid all of Jeremy's life that I would die before he grew up. Strange that this would happen when he was sixteen - the age I was when my mother died.
Not to worry. I haven't watched my kidneys, blood pressure and cholesterol so carefully only to die of cancer. I'll jump whatever hoops I have to to be around to know my grandchildren.
My biggest fear: Many people already know this about me, but I've been afraid all of Jeremy's life that I would die before he grew up. Strange that this would happen when he was sixteen - the age I was when my mother died.
Not to worry. I haven't watched my kidneys, blood pressure and cholesterol so carefully only to die of cancer. I'll jump whatever hoops I have to to be around to know my grandchildren.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Tuesday
Called the doc today. Still didn’t have the path report back. Hopefully I’ll know something tomorrow. I want a plan.
Spoke too soon. Dr. Marler just called. No doubt about it now, definitely cancer in the breast. I’m to call Sherry tomorrow and set up another appointment to go in and discuss a course of action and then he’ll set up with the oncologist. Here we go.
Spoke too soon. Dr. Marler just called. No doubt about it now, definitely cancer in the breast. I’m to call Sherry tomorrow and set up another appointment to go in and discuss a course of action and then he’ll set up with the oncologist. Here we go.
Monday, February 21, 2005
College touring
We toured UL (University of Louisiana at Lafayette) today. Emily came for the ride with us. The campus was a lot bigger than I thought, but it’s all very exciting. They spent a lot of time with Jeremy and showed us all around the art department. It reminded me of touring the Gibson Guitar factory in Memphis. Dust and works in progress everywhere. They have a great program there as far as I can tell. They made me want to go back to college and major in visual arts! How cool is that? They showed us the dorms too. Wouldn’t want to do that. It was a good day. And great fun spending this time with Jeremy going over the catalog and discussing his future. We’re both excited about it. My little boy is nearly a man. I’m so proud of him.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Saturday
Luke is sick, sore throat, congestion all over funk.
Called my sisters - not home. Called Susan and gave her the good news. I don't think I can call anyone else today.
Took Flo to Shreveport to pick up Emily at the airport.
Called my sisters - not home. Called Susan and gave her the good news. I don't think I can call anyone else today.
Took Flo to Shreveport to pick up Emily at the airport.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Thursday
Big day today. Still covered with hives. I took benadryll, which helps, but after about 3 hours they start to itch and swell again. The mammogram hurt and she kept coming to get me for more pictures. Finally she was satisfied and she took me in for the ultrasound. There’s my lump. I wonder if it is really as big as it looks? I was afraid to ask.
Dr. Marler is the surgeon. later in the afternon, at his office, I started to get indignant waiting to be seen. Somehow I feel like I should be treated better. Preferential treatment for the cancer patient! Can’t they see I don’t have time for this!
Finally they put me in a room. His nurse, Sherry, came in to take the health history and asked, “What brings you here today?”
What?!
“Cancer,” I say.
Pause. Then, “Don’t say that. It might not be.”
I was stunned for a minute because I expected her to know why I was there. I explained the pathology report on the neck lump and that the radiologist who did the ultrasound was definite it was a tumor in my breast. I told her, “Dr. Badeaux’s nurse said he called and told Dr. Marler we were coming and why.”
Dr. Marler came in and said he hadn't gotten a call from Dr. Badeaux.
I spread my arms out and said, “Surprise!”
He laughed and I was relieved he had a sense of humor.
Then Dr. Marler pulled open the paper shirt to examine my breast and jumped back at the sight of the hives. “What’s that?”
I laughed and said, “Hives, I think. It’s been too long since my last dose of benadryl.”
Luke said, “Funny thing. She spontaneously broke out in hives when they told her she was going to die of cancer.”
Poor Sherry looked stricken so I quickly told her that they really said it much nicer than that.
Although Dr. Marler would usually schedule a breast biopsy for Friday, he offered to do it that evening after he finished with his other patients since we came from Natchitoches. It was good of him to not make us come back.
Here’s what the breast biopsy is like. I couldn’t see, but Luke could. The surgeon anesthetizes the breast. Then he makes a slit with a scalpel. Then he takes a harpoon and inserts it in the breast. The harpoon is spring loaded so that it snaps back pulling and trapping tissue. He showed Luke the tumor tissue and I said, “I want to see.” He showed me the bloody harpoon. Oops! I really just wanted to see the tumor tissue.
The good thing about today: Dr. Marler and his nurse have a sense of humor and aren’t at all put off by Luke and I making tasteless cracks. This is important because I intend to survive this by making tasteless jokes whenever possible. You may have already noticed a thread of sarcasm running through this blog.
Dr. Marler is the surgeon. later in the afternon, at his office, I started to get indignant waiting to be seen. Somehow I feel like I should be treated better. Preferential treatment for the cancer patient! Can’t they see I don’t have time for this!
Finally they put me in a room. His nurse, Sherry, came in to take the health history and asked, “What brings you here today?”
What?!
“Cancer,” I say.
Pause. Then, “Don’t say that. It might not be.”
I was stunned for a minute because I expected her to know why I was there. I explained the pathology report on the neck lump and that the radiologist who did the ultrasound was definite it was a tumor in my breast. I told her, “Dr. Badeaux’s nurse said he called and told Dr. Marler we were coming and why.”
Dr. Marler came in and said he hadn't gotten a call from Dr. Badeaux.
I spread my arms out and said, “Surprise!”
He laughed and I was relieved he had a sense of humor.
Then Dr. Marler pulled open the paper shirt to examine my breast and jumped back at the sight of the hives. “What’s that?”
I laughed and said, “Hives, I think. It’s been too long since my last dose of benadryl.”
Luke said, “Funny thing. She spontaneously broke out in hives when they told her she was going to die of cancer.”
Poor Sherry looked stricken so I quickly told her that they really said it much nicer than that.
Although Dr. Marler would usually schedule a breast biopsy for Friday, he offered to do it that evening after he finished with his other patients since we came from Natchitoches. It was good of him to not make us come back.
Here’s what the breast biopsy is like. I couldn’t see, but Luke could. The surgeon anesthetizes the breast. Then he makes a slit with a scalpel. Then he takes a harpoon and inserts it in the breast. The harpoon is spring loaded so that it snaps back pulling and trapping tissue. He showed Luke the tumor tissue and I said, “I want to see.” He showed me the bloody harpoon. Oops! I really just wanted to see the tumor tissue.
The good thing about today: Dr. Marler and his nurse have a sense of humor and aren’t at all put off by Luke and I making tasteless cracks. This is important because I intend to survive this by making tasteless jokes whenever possible. You may have already noticed a thread of sarcasm running through this blog.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Wednesday
I woke up with round itchy welts all over my abdomen. I’ve never had hives but I’m guessing this is it. Went to Alexandria for CT scans. Uneventful trip. I dr0ve and we "crossed words" -Luke reads cross word clues to me. We have a stack that have been copied from the newspaper. We often do this on out of town trips. We try to complete at least one whole puzzle before we get to our destination.
We went home early and we both decided to go to work. Dr. Badeaux’s nurse called while I was there and said they have the results of the CT scans already – no cancer in my pelvis or abdomen region. That's good news.
We went home early and we both decided to go to work. Dr. Badeaux’s nurse called while I was there and said they have the results of the CT scans already – no cancer in my pelvis or abdomen region. That's good news.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Tuesday
There I was, innocently working at my desk about 3:30. Dr. Badeaux’s nurse called and said can you come over for a few minutes? I have an appointment with him in a few days so I ask can it wait till then? (Why did I ask that?) No, he’d like to see you right now. Okay that’s when I knew. But maybe not. Maybe he was in a hurry to give me good news so I wouldn’t worry, right? Somehow I couldn’t convince myself.
“It’s cancer. I’m sorry.” And so there we were. How does the faucet get turned on so easily? He spoke the words and the water flowed right out of my eyes as if on cue. And I suppose it was. You’d think it would take a few minutes for it all to sink in before I could muster up tears. I guess I must have known. I must have been waiting to hear the words so I could let the water flow.
They were oh so kind. Any questions? Questions!! Just tell me what to do. “Well,” he said, “it didn’t start in your neck. That much we know. Which means it started somewhere else and we have to find out where.” Breast lump! I know where. Scheduled another test – CT of abdomen and pelvis. Mammogram is already set up.
Oh no, I didn’t have my keys I was going to have to go back into my office to get them. Everyone would want to know what happened. The nurse offered to get them for me or call someone to bring them. Oh so nice, but no. No use putting it off.
I headed back to my office. How can it be such a beautiful day outside? But then how many times have I said that at a funeral. It always seems to be so beautiful outside when you are saddest inside. I stopped to lean on the brick wall because I was feeling a little weak and looked up to see Doris at the stop sign. That wouldn't do. I started walking and smiled and waved, please don’t stop to ask me what’s wrong. Stepped into my office and three coworkers were there in the reception area. What happened? It’s bad. It’s cancer. OMG, I said it out loud. Now there were more people. Somehow I told them what I knew. They wanted to drive me home, but I wouldn’t let them. I only live a few blocks away.
I had to call Luke so he could take off from work tomorrow.
I went home and told Jeremy.
I decide to wait to call my family (in New Orleans) until after the tests are run and we know something of what will happen.
There were some moments here, but I don't intend to relate personal conversations. I don't want people to fear having intimate moments published on this blog.
What I'm thankful for: I'm not alone.
“It’s cancer. I’m sorry.” And so there we were. How does the faucet get turned on so easily? He spoke the words and the water flowed right out of my eyes as if on cue. And I suppose it was. You’d think it would take a few minutes for it all to sink in before I could muster up tears. I guess I must have known. I must have been waiting to hear the words so I could let the water flow.
They were oh so kind. Any questions? Questions!! Just tell me what to do. “Well,” he said, “it didn’t start in your neck. That much we know. Which means it started somewhere else and we have to find out where.” Breast lump! I know where. Scheduled another test – CT of abdomen and pelvis. Mammogram is already set up.
Oh no, I didn’t have my keys I was going to have to go back into my office to get them. Everyone would want to know what happened. The nurse offered to get them for me or call someone to bring them. Oh so nice, but no. No use putting it off.
I headed back to my office. How can it be such a beautiful day outside? But then how many times have I said that at a funeral. It always seems to be so beautiful outside when you are saddest inside. I stopped to lean on the brick wall because I was feeling a little weak and looked up to see Doris at the stop sign. That wouldn't do. I started walking and smiled and waved, please don’t stop to ask me what’s wrong. Stepped into my office and three coworkers were there in the reception area. What happened? It’s bad. It’s cancer. OMG, I said it out loud. Now there were more people. Somehow I told them what I knew. They wanted to drive me home, but I wouldn’t let them. I only live a few blocks away.
I had to call Luke so he could take off from work tomorrow.
I went home and told Jeremy.
I decide to wait to call my family (in New Orleans) until after the tests are run and we know something of what will happen.
There were some moments here, but I don't intend to relate personal conversations. I don't want people to fear having intimate moments published on this blog.
What I'm thankful for: I'm not alone.
Monday, February 14, 2005
CT guided needle biopsy
They called it CT guided, but that was an ultrasound. No local or anything. The doc assured me that giving the anesthetic is more painful than the biopsy because it’s just a tiny needle. I watched the tiny needle go in and out of my neck lump on the screen in front of me. Everyone should have that experience once. Then I had to stay still with my head turned to the left (to maintain the sterile area) to wait for pathology to see if we had enough.
Of course then I itched because I couldn’t scratch and my glasses were pushed up where I couldn’t see. Nice. But at least I got to hear the techs standing behind me talking about their weekend.
Three times someone asked me if I smoked. That’s not a good sign. The doc came back – more neck stabbing. What a relief to finally go home.
The good thing that happened today: I got a parking space up front close to the door at Walmart.
Of course then I itched because I couldn’t scratch and my glasses were pushed up where I couldn’t see. Nice. But at least I got to hear the techs standing behind me talking about their weekend.
Three times someone asked me if I smoked. That’s not a good sign. The doc came back – more neck stabbing. What a relief to finally go home.
The good thing that happened today: I got a parking space up front close to the door at Walmart.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Mardi Gras
A wellness exam at Dr. Long’s. Did I mention it was hard to feel the lump in my breast while lying down doing a usual exam? I found it for her and showed her. “That’s pretty deep. How did you find it?” Well you can easily feel it if I sit up. So I sat up and put her hand on it. “Wow, that’s pretty big.” Yep. Scheduled mammogram. Can’t do it on the same day as the CT guided biopsy – scheduling problems. Take more days off of work
Monday, February 07, 2005
Fast Forward
Visit to Dr. Badeaux’s office. After three series of antibiotics there is still a small lump under my collarbone, though no swelling. Doc said, “Maybe I missed the center (with the needle biopsy) because of the swelling.” A CT guided needle biopsy was scheduled. At this point I’m beginning to think he’s just “practicing” medicine on me and taking my money.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Then things sped up
Today, I was dressing and as I adjusted myself into my bra, OMG! there’s a lump and it’s huge. As big as an aggie. (For those of you who haven't been children in a while, an aggie is the big marble you use to shoot the other smaller marbles) . Guess it’s time for the yearly wellness exam. Okay so I'm only 2 ½ months behind on that. But not to worry. Last year I had a couple little lumps in my left breast that were just fluid filled cysts. No doubt this is the same in the other breast. Sure is big though...
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
How it began
“It’s cancer.” Two little words and everything changed. I didn’t want to believe it, but in a way it was just what I expected to hear. Or not. Consciously, while going through the needle biopsy and taking the antibiotics and continuing to feel the lump in my neck, I believed that the doctor was just spending my money and time and inconveniencing me. But if I believed that then why did I keep catching myself rehearsing how to tell people? And yet, this couldn’t happen to me because, as I’ve said many times, I don’t have any risk factors for cancer. My family’s health history is full of other ailments, but cancer? No way. I was almost a snob about it. Other people had cancer; we had heart disease, kidney disease and diabetes. These were the names of our health failings. We were a cancer-free family.
Never say never. It isn’t fair really. Oh, I know everyone feels that way. But really! I already have a potentially fatal disease. I’m dealing with my share, aren’t I? I truly think one per lifetime is enough. This is so unseemly. And how did this happen? I did the self-breast exams. I never felt the menace within. It’s only been a year (well, okay, 14 months) since my last mammogram. How did this thing in my breast get so big and spread to my neck so quickly?
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I want to chronicle this experience because I have a feeling it might be one of the more profound of my life. Dah, ya think?
So where do I begin?
It was January and the soccer season was winding down. I decided to start riding my bike to work. One night at bedtime, after a couple of days of riding to work, my neck and right shoulder started to hurt. It felt like muscle pain. I thought I must have been straining it somehow on the ride. By morning there was swelling and I could feel a lump in my neck. I thought maybe it was a spider bite. Dr. Long agreed and gave me antibiotics. The swelling went down but the lump was still there so she sent me to an ear, nose and throat doc (Badeaux ). He gave me more antibiotics and did a needle biopsy in his office.
A few days later:
Good news! No malignancy. But the lump was still there. More antibiotics. Come back in a few days.
Never say never. It isn’t fair really. Oh, I know everyone feels that way. But really! I already have a potentially fatal disease. I’m dealing with my share, aren’t I? I truly think one per lifetime is enough. This is so unseemly. And how did this happen? I did the self-breast exams. I never felt the menace within. It’s only been a year (well, okay, 14 months) since my last mammogram. How did this thing in my breast get so big and spread to my neck so quickly?
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I want to chronicle this experience because I have a feeling it might be one of the more profound of my life. Dah, ya think?
So where do I begin?
It was January and the soccer season was winding down. I decided to start riding my bike to work. One night at bedtime, after a couple of days of riding to work, my neck and right shoulder started to hurt. It felt like muscle pain. I thought I must have been straining it somehow on the ride. By morning there was swelling and I could feel a lump in my neck. I thought maybe it was a spider bite. Dr. Long agreed and gave me antibiotics. The swelling went down but the lump was still there so she sent me to an ear, nose and throat doc (Badeaux ). He gave me more antibiotics and did a needle biopsy in his office.
A few days later:
Good news! No malignancy. But the lump was still there. More antibiotics. Come back in a few days.
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