Saturday, I woke to news that the hurricane was a category 5. I tried calling my sister, Cheryl, who planned to stay and ride out the storm and beg her to leave. The lines were all busy and I couldn't get through. Then I called my niece, April, that lives in Many and together we decided to keep calling Cheryl and April's sister Lisa, who also was staying. I took Lisa thinking I'd convince her she needed to get her mother to safety. I was sure April would pull out all the stops and tell Cheryl she needed to leave so Lisa would and come visit her grandchildren.
Neither of us ever got a clear line and we were both sick with worry until we finally got a call from Lisa who said they were on the road and headed for Aprils'. I was much relieved. By the time they left the city the traffic was all being directed west so they had to drive a long way through Mississippi before they could go north and then east. April lives just a few miles from the Texas border so they had a long way to go in slow traffic. As they got further north and then turned east the storm and winds could be seen behind them. They couldn't stop because they didn't want it to catch up with them. I think it took them about 22 hours, but I'm not sure exactly.
My evacuees arrived in the afternoon. They were already on the north side of the lake when they left in the morning and didn't have too much trouble getting here. It was one of my oldest friends, Susan, her husband, Adam, their two kids, Susan's and Adam's mother, Adam's sister, Donna, her husband, Don, and their two kids. Sounds like a big burden, but they are self-sufficient house guests, especially with the two grandmothers there. With blow up beds and mattresses on the floor we managed to spread them around and found sleeping space for everyone.
Now we just wait to see what Katrina will do. It looks like it's going to be a long haul.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Luke and Jeremy "hit the road".
Alright I'm guilty. I can't resist horning in on Dawn's blog and throwing on a few pics here of me and the boy having fun at the James Burton Guitar Festival trade show.
James Burton Guitar Festival
James Burton Guitar Festival
Still Draining After All These Weeks
On Wednesday we made a return trip to the surgeon. The appointment was a disappointment and a waste of time. The infection is clearing up nicely (which I could have told him over the phone) but I’m still getting too much drainage to lose the drain. I’m tempted to name the thing.
The surgeon hadn’t looked at the slides from the lumpectomy yet, so he couldn’t advise us on whether I should have more surgery. He’s going to talk to the pathologist and fax my info to the radiation oncologist then discuss it with both of them. It may be that the radiation will be enough. If I have more surgery it has to be done now and not after the radiation treatment, because the radiated area won’t heal well. I also have another appointment with the chemo oncologist on Wednesday. I’m afraid he’s going to suggest we do the last two chemo treatments that we skipped. I don’t want to do it, quite honestly, but it may be necessary.
I have a brand new problem that started last week. My joints are very stiff and painful if I’ve been sitting or lying down. I have great difficulty standing up and walking if I’m been resting. It’s as if I’m trying to move my legs and feet in directions they aren’t made to go. Curiously, if I move around a lot and do things I can “work” it off and feel okay only to become nearly crippled again if I sit down. And never in my life have I experienced so much difficulty and pain getting up from sitting on the floor. Again I feel like I’m 80 not 41. I don’t know what this is from. I don’t think the docs have a clue. I think it may be that I take too many meds and they are interacting in naughty ways.
The good thing that happened: Luke and I finished a filing project we started last week. Let’s just say it was a major project, but I’m really pleased with the end result.
The interesting thing that’s about to happen: Hurricane Katrina is headed to New Orleans and we’re expecting a couple of carloads of refugees tomorrow. However, most of my family is staying there to ride out the storm, unless they make evacuation mandatory. Then I guess we’ll have a few more carloads of guests. I’m worried about them and the whole city.
The surgeon hadn’t looked at the slides from the lumpectomy yet, so he couldn’t advise us on whether I should have more surgery. He’s going to talk to the pathologist and fax my info to the radiation oncologist then discuss it with both of them. It may be that the radiation will be enough. If I have more surgery it has to be done now and not after the radiation treatment, because the radiated area won’t heal well. I also have another appointment with the chemo oncologist on Wednesday. I’m afraid he’s going to suggest we do the last two chemo treatments that we skipped. I don’t want to do it, quite honestly, but it may be necessary.
I have a brand new problem that started last week. My joints are very stiff and painful if I’ve been sitting or lying down. I have great difficulty standing up and walking if I’m been resting. It’s as if I’m trying to move my legs and feet in directions they aren’t made to go. Curiously, if I move around a lot and do things I can “work” it off and feel okay only to become nearly crippled again if I sit down. And never in my life have I experienced so much difficulty and pain getting up from sitting on the floor. Again I feel like I’m 80 not 41. I don’t know what this is from. I don’t think the docs have a clue. I think it may be that I take too many meds and they are interacting in naughty ways.
The good thing that happened: Luke and I finished a filing project we started last week. Let’s just say it was a major project, but I’m really pleased with the end result.
The interesting thing that’s about to happen: Hurricane Katrina is headed to New Orleans and we’re expecting a couple of carloads of refugees tomorrow. However, most of my family is staying there to ride out the storm, unless they make evacuation mandatory. Then I guess we’ll have a few more carloads of guests. I’m worried about them and the whole city.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Drainage Issues and Other Stuff
I notice I’ve mentioned pain a number of times. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s not terrible pain. I’m not writhing around wishing to end it all just to stop the pain. In fact I only took the pain meds once or twice a day and I haven’t needed it at all in the last day or so. I just complain about the pain because it’s with you all the time and prevents you from doing things. On the other hand, I’ve had a lot more use of my arm much quicker than I expected and if it weren’t for the drain sticking out of my side I’d be almost normal.
I know what’ll be fun. I’ll tell you how I deal with the drain. I’ve explained the tubing coming out of my side and the bulb at the end of it. Well, the tubing is kind of long, about 2 ½ feet, with the bulb at the end hanging down and swinging in the wind. Of course, allowing it to hang is unpleasant so you must contain it. At home I have a bathrobe tie that I tie around my waist and hang the bulb from. (The bulb has a loop on it). When I leave the house I stuff the bulb in my pocket with all the tubing and wear a shirt long enough to cover it. You see what I mean about inconvenient? And I’m sure I’ve told you way more than you care to know.
The good thing that happened: Last night our AC stopped blowing cool air.(No that wasn't the good thing that happened.) By coincidence I had called an AC service the day before to come this morning to clean my compressor and check the Freon, etc. Better yet, they came when scheduled! To put this in perspective one of my neighbors waited weeks for service with no AC a few months back. I don’t know why it took so long, but I’m thankful we didn’t have to wait any time at all.
I know what’ll be fun. I’ll tell you how I deal with the drain. I’ve explained the tubing coming out of my side and the bulb at the end of it. Well, the tubing is kind of long, about 2 ½ feet, with the bulb at the end hanging down and swinging in the wind. Of course, allowing it to hang is unpleasant so you must contain it. At home I have a bathrobe tie that I tie around my waist and hang the bulb from. (The bulb has a loop on it). When I leave the house I stuff the bulb in my pocket with all the tubing and wear a shirt long enough to cover it. You see what I mean about inconvenient? And I’m sure I’ve told you way more than you care to know.
The good thing that happened: Last night our AC stopped blowing cool air.(No that wasn't the good thing that happened.) By coincidence I had called an AC service the day before to come this morning to clean my compressor and check the Freon, etc. Better yet, they came when scheduled! To put this in perspective one of my neighbors waited weeks for service with no AC a few months back. I don’t know why it took so long, but I’m thankful we didn’t have to wait any time at all.
Monday, August 22, 2005
What I Did On My Days Off
I've been home and off work for two weeks now and haven't managed to do anything that I thought I might. At first, of course, the problem was energy and pain. Too little of one and too much of the other. The pain meds did take care of the pain, but they render you too sleepy to do much. I was proud to do some laundry and wash dishes. Two days of trips to doctors and another day at the local hospital for blood work and the biweekly shot also suck up the days. Everything takes more time and energy than it should.
Here’s what I imagined myself doing on my time off: refinishing or painting furniture, sewing dresses for my nieces’ little girls, making mosaic tabletops, pottery, decoupage, designing an awesome backyard garden, writing, writing, writing…
I love doing creative things with my hands. I love the feeling of being lost in the project. You get fully immersed in what you’re doing. Like a spiritual experience. When you finish it’s like a release. And each time you look at it you get a little of that feeling back.
But now that I have a little energy, instead of doing those things I feel I need to get things in order and purge things I’ve been carrying around for years. I started with one box and then decided to tackle the files as we have stuff that’s at least ten years old in there. (Tell me, why do we keep pay stubs?) This file purging is turning out to be more than one day’s project!
Naturally I’m blogging rather than getting back in that room with my stacks; save, throw away, refile the misfiled papers, shred, don’t know what to do with.
I think I’d better go.
Here’s what I imagined myself doing on my time off: refinishing or painting furniture, sewing dresses for my nieces’ little girls, making mosaic tabletops, pottery, decoupage, designing an awesome backyard garden, writing, writing, writing…
I love doing creative things with my hands. I love the feeling of being lost in the project. You get fully immersed in what you’re doing. Like a spiritual experience. When you finish it’s like a release. And each time you look at it you get a little of that feeling back.
But now that I have a little energy, instead of doing those things I feel I need to get things in order and purge things I’ve been carrying around for years. I started with one box and then decided to tackle the files as we have stuff that’s at least ten years old in there. (Tell me, why do we keep pay stubs?) This file purging is turning out to be more than one day’s project!
Naturally I’m blogging rather than getting back in that room with my stacks; save, throw away, refile the misfiled papers, shred, don’t know what to do with.
I think I’d better go.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
A Little Seriousness
Oh my, totally forgot the blog. Update: oh yes, the dang drainage thang is infected. I've been taking antibiotics for it for a few days and it looks much better. Unfortunately the drain isn't coming out until next week due to the infection.
While at the surgeon’s office I asked him what we should do about the positive margins indicated by the pathology report. He said he wanted to look at the slides himself before advising us on what to do. Our choices are what you’d expect; another lumpectomy, a mastectomy or possibly the radiation might take care of it. Then he said something he’s said before, but I didn’t put on the blog.
He said, “You understand that we aren’t going for a cure? That as advanced as your cancer was … it has already left the breast and eliminating it in the breast (or removing the breast) won’t stop it.” I didn’t put this on the blog before because I just couldn’t type the words. His point in telling me this was to explain that a mastectomy would not rid me of the cancer as cancer cells have already left the breast. It would be locking the barn after the horse has been stolen. In my case a lumpectomy should be as effective as a mastectomy and the less trauma the better, because, “we can’t cure it. It’s already out.”
Because of this conversation I felt very down a few days ago and did some more web surfing and research on breast cancer, particularly Stage IIIC. I even called the American Cancer Society information line. He couldn’t really tell me any more than I already know (he was reading from a fact sheet, I think), except one thing he told me which I think is important. The stats they have on survival percentages are based (first) on all women with the disease, whatever treatment they had (or didn’t have) and (second) on data collected up to ten years ago. Anyway, I had a little break down and wallowed in self-pity for a while. I find it helps to do this now and again, when no one is around. Let it all out in a big cathartic emotional tantrum and then get on with life.
I want to believe the chemo took care of any cancer cells that made it out of the breast. In fact, it stays in your system and continues for work for a while even as you are recovering. I still get sharp pains (like pinches) in my breast that I started getting after the chemo treatments began. These pains, I believe, are cancer cells dying. I may yet have more chemo because the oncologist wants to do another CT scan before deciding for sure not to do the final two treatments. The radiation I have will be directed not only at my breast, but also at my neck (where I had a positive node).
I haven’t yet asked for a prognosis and I probably won’t until I’m well into the radiation treatment. As my sister-in-law, Marie, told me, “Don’t borrow trouble.” I feel like it’s going away and that's all that matters.
While at the surgeon’s office I asked him what we should do about the positive margins indicated by the pathology report. He said he wanted to look at the slides himself before advising us on what to do. Our choices are what you’d expect; another lumpectomy, a mastectomy or possibly the radiation might take care of it. Then he said something he’s said before, but I didn’t put on the blog.
He said, “You understand that we aren’t going for a cure? That as advanced as your cancer was … it has already left the breast and eliminating it in the breast (or removing the breast) won’t stop it.” I didn’t put this on the blog before because I just couldn’t type the words. His point in telling me this was to explain that a mastectomy would not rid me of the cancer as cancer cells have already left the breast. It would be locking the barn after the horse has been stolen. In my case a lumpectomy should be as effective as a mastectomy and the less trauma the better, because, “we can’t cure it. It’s already out.”
Because of this conversation I felt very down a few days ago and did some more web surfing and research on breast cancer, particularly Stage IIIC. I even called the American Cancer Society information line. He couldn’t really tell me any more than I already know (he was reading from a fact sheet, I think), except one thing he told me which I think is important. The stats they have on survival percentages are based (first) on all women with the disease, whatever treatment they had (or didn’t have) and (second) on data collected up to ten years ago. Anyway, I had a little break down and wallowed in self-pity for a while. I find it helps to do this now and again, when no one is around. Let it all out in a big cathartic emotional tantrum and then get on with life.
I want to believe the chemo took care of any cancer cells that made it out of the breast. In fact, it stays in your system and continues for work for a while even as you are recovering. I still get sharp pains (like pinches) in my breast that I started getting after the chemo treatments began. These pains, I believe, are cancer cells dying. I may yet have more chemo because the oncologist wants to do another CT scan before deciding for sure not to do the final two treatments. The radiation I have will be directed not only at my breast, but also at my neck (where I had a positive node).
I haven’t yet asked for a prognosis and I probably won’t until I’m well into the radiation treatment. As my sister-in-law, Marie, told me, “Don’t borrow trouble.” I feel like it’s going away and that's all that matters.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
At Home with Healing Thoughts
The days are moving along. My arm still hurts but not as urgently. I can go much longer through the day without resorting to pain meds. In fact I feel like I probably won't need any today.
On Sunday I discovered that a sport bra that latches in front and is two sizes too big is just the ticket. I can have a little support and the elastic doesn't squeeze the drainage tube. This means I can leave the house, without shame. I was beginning to get a little of the housebound crazies, if you know what I mean. Since coming home from the hospital I've only left the house twice(other than to pace around the yard for the few minutes I could stand the blazing heat). Once to go visit at my mother-in-law's house and once to have dinner at my sister-in-law's house.
Since getting the bigger bra idea I've been to Walmart, the doc's office (local PCP) and the post office. Today I'm going to venture to the bank. Life is good again.
Or so I thought. The area around the drainage tube has started to swell and turn red. The wire stitches that were on the outside are now inside. My breast is tender to the touch, in an OUCH sort of way. I fear I may have made an error with the bra.
I've tried calling the surgeon's office, but they're all at lunch until 1:30. Hurry up and wait. I sure hope I don't have to go to his office (in Shreveport). Maybe I can have my primary care doc look at it instead. She's just around the corner. Funny thing is that yesterday when I saw her for the fluid retention (did I mention the extra 10 lbs I'm carrying around from fluid retention?) the dang thing was fine. I even had her look at it to be sure. Twenty-four hours later I'm getting worried about infection.
Ooops, spoke too soon. Just talked to Sherry, have to go to Shreveport tomorrow to let the surgeon see my swelling. Oh well, at least I'll get out of the house, right?
The good thing that happened: I received, in the mail, something for my Cancer Days (see how people care) Box. Was it a card? Well, yes I got one of those too, but this is something else. A letter? No. An autographed picture? No. Give up? Of course you do because this is something no one would imagine sending. My oldest (and dearest, he'll insist I add) friend in the whole world, Clint, actually sent me a braid of his hair. A big braid too, not just a few strands! Isn't that hilarious? And so thoughtful! After all what do I need, but hair?
For those of you going, huh? I'll explain. Clint had long and thick hair which he regularly grows and then cuts off and donates to Locks of Love. He did this long before I got cancer. This time, however, his hair was so long and thick they braided it in four braids to cut for donation. Only he saved one, which arrived in my mailbox yesterday. Thank you, Clint, and I'm relieved it isn't dead fish!
On Sunday I discovered that a sport bra that latches in front and is two sizes too big is just the ticket. I can have a little support and the elastic doesn't squeeze the drainage tube. This means I can leave the house, without shame. I was beginning to get a little of the housebound crazies, if you know what I mean. Since coming home from the hospital I've only left the house twice(other than to pace around the yard for the few minutes I could stand the blazing heat). Once to go visit at my mother-in-law's house and once to have dinner at my sister-in-law's house.
Since getting the bigger bra idea I've been to Walmart, the doc's office (local PCP) and the post office. Today I'm going to venture to the bank. Life is good again.
Or so I thought. The area around the drainage tube has started to swell and turn red. The wire stitches that were on the outside are now inside. My breast is tender to the touch, in an OUCH sort of way. I fear I may have made an error with the bra.
I've tried calling the surgeon's office, but they're all at lunch until 1:30. Hurry up and wait. I sure hope I don't have to go to his office (in Shreveport). Maybe I can have my primary care doc look at it instead. She's just around the corner. Funny thing is that yesterday when I saw her for the fluid retention (did I mention the extra 10 lbs I'm carrying around from fluid retention?) the dang thing was fine. I even had her look at it to be sure. Twenty-four hours later I'm getting worried about infection.
Ooops, spoke too soon. Just talked to Sherry, have to go to Shreveport tomorrow to let the surgeon see my swelling. Oh well, at least I'll get out of the house, right?
The good thing that happened: I received, in the mail, something for my Cancer Days (see how people care) Box. Was it a card? Well, yes I got one of those too, but this is something else. A letter? No. An autographed picture? No. Give up? Of course you do because this is something no one would imagine sending. My oldest (and dearest, he'll insist I add) friend in the whole world, Clint, actually sent me a braid of his hair. A big braid too, not just a few strands! Isn't that hilarious? And so thoughtful! After all what do I need, but hair?
For those of you going, huh? I'll explain. Clint had long and thick hair which he regularly grows and then cuts off and donates to Locks of Love. He did this long before I got cancer. This time, however, his hair was so long and thick they braided it in four braids to cut for donation. Only he saved one, which arrived in my mailbox yesterday. Thank you, Clint, and I'm relieved it isn't dead fish!
Monday, August 15, 2005
Saturday, August 13, 2005
A Week and A Day
It's Saturday now. I'm thinking more clearly. And since I'm thinking clearly I'd thought I'd take this opportunity to whine a little. I know, I know, so unlike me.
The drain site is raw and it hurts! But Luke puts Neosporin with pain relief around the opening and it helps. Wanna hear about the drain? Come on, you know you do! The drain is tubing, like IV tubing, that sticks out of a hole in the side of my breast under my arm. At the other end of the tubing is a bulb sort of like what's used to pump up a blood pressure cuff - only clear. It has a plug on it that you open to empty the fluid. Then you squeeze the bulb and plug it again creating a vacuum that pulls the fluid out (of my breast). The tubing is anchored in my breast by wire stitches. When I move my arm around the skin around my breast is pulled. Look in the mirror and move your arm around and you'll see what I mean. Can't see it? Are you naked from the waist up? Take off your shirt and bra, ninny, and you'll get it. Anyway, this movement pulls the tubing in and out (of me) and the stitches rub and that's what causes the rawness. Also, sometimes it leaks and gets the skin wet, which adds to the soreness. Disgusted yet?
My right breast appears to be a little smaller than the left, but not a bunch. Actually it always has been, but now it seems more obvious. I doubt it will be noticeable at all with a bra on, though. And speaking of that, I can't say I ever thought I'd miss wearing a bra (especially since I'm one of those women that sheds hers the minute she walks in the door of her house after work), but, because I can't wear one (the drain comes out at the exact spot the elastic from a bra should be) I really miss it!
Then there’s my arm trouble. The underside of my right arm alternates between sharp pain and sore numbness. The stand-in surgeon who released me from the hospital said this surgery can damage the nerves there and the numbness can be permanent, but I'm thinking the sharp pains are signals that the nerves are waking up. We didn't get any instructions on how much or little I should use that arm except one nurse said I would probably be happier if I used it as much as possible. Luckily, I can use it a lot more than I expected and don't have to do EVERYTHING with my left arm.
Yesterday was our 10th wedding anniversary. Luke’s and mine! That makes today the beginning of decade number two. Nice of me to do the math for ya and state the obvious, eh?
I heard a great line on a TV program the other day. "My father always used to say, it'll all be okay in the end. So if it's not okay, it's not the end!" There you go, it's not the end.
The drain site is raw and it hurts! But Luke puts Neosporin with pain relief around the opening and it helps. Wanna hear about the drain? Come on, you know you do! The drain is tubing, like IV tubing, that sticks out of a hole in the side of my breast under my arm. At the other end of the tubing is a bulb sort of like what's used to pump up a blood pressure cuff - only clear. It has a plug on it that you open to empty the fluid. Then you squeeze the bulb and plug it again creating a vacuum that pulls the fluid out (of my breast). The tubing is anchored in my breast by wire stitches. When I move my arm around the skin around my breast is pulled. Look in the mirror and move your arm around and you'll see what I mean. Can't see it? Are you naked from the waist up? Take off your shirt and bra, ninny, and you'll get it. Anyway, this movement pulls the tubing in and out (of me) and the stitches rub and that's what causes the rawness. Also, sometimes it leaks and gets the skin wet, which adds to the soreness. Disgusted yet?
My right breast appears to be a little smaller than the left, but not a bunch. Actually it always has been, but now it seems more obvious. I doubt it will be noticeable at all with a bra on, though. And speaking of that, I can't say I ever thought I'd miss wearing a bra (especially since I'm one of those women that sheds hers the minute she walks in the door of her house after work), but, because I can't wear one (the drain comes out at the exact spot the elastic from a bra should be) I really miss it!
Then there’s my arm trouble. The underside of my right arm alternates between sharp pain and sore numbness. The stand-in surgeon who released me from the hospital said this surgery can damage the nerves there and the numbness can be permanent, but I'm thinking the sharp pains are signals that the nerves are waking up. We didn't get any instructions on how much or little I should use that arm except one nurse said I would probably be happier if I used it as much as possible. Luckily, I can use it a lot more than I expected and don't have to do EVERYTHING with my left arm.
Yesterday was our 10th wedding anniversary. Luke’s and mine! That makes today the beginning of decade number two. Nice of me to do the math for ya and state the obvious, eh?
I heard a great line on a TV program the other day. "My father always used to say, it'll all be okay in the end. So if it's not okay, it's not the end!" There you go, it's not the end.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Post-surgery Days
Crawling from the chair I've been poured into since I came home....
First day back, good day. Actually did some laundry and cleaned the kitchen. Then bad days. Just a haze. One day spent on the phone. That was good, except I had pain and took pain meds and felt like crap and slept and couldn't eat and still felt like crap. I managed to lay in the bed on my side for a few hours last night. The drain in my side is right in the way and I'm afraid of pulling it accidentally. I know I'm not making much sense, but it's how I feel. They told me (the sources I have who have been here before) that this part was the easy part. They lied. Or maybe they meant radiation. That's Phase III. We're still in Phase II - surgery. Phase I was chemo.
I do remember this. Yesterday the surgeon called with the pathology report. It wasn't good. Three out of twenty-three nodes were positive. To quote the surgeon, "That's very good considering the size of the thing." Yes, but what of the margins? Positive. That's bad. It means he didn't get it all. He said he may have to go in again. Or, I don't know. He said he had to look at the slides himself and we'd talk about it when I went back in to see him, when the current incision stops draining so much. From the looks of things, that could take a while.
There's a volcano on Maui that people drive up early in the morning before the sun rises. Then everyone rides down at dawn on yellow bicycles. It's a beautiful thing to see and someday, I will do it myself.
First day back, good day. Actually did some laundry and cleaned the kitchen. Then bad days. Just a haze. One day spent on the phone. That was good, except I had pain and took pain meds and felt like crap and slept and couldn't eat and still felt like crap. I managed to lay in the bed on my side for a few hours last night. The drain in my side is right in the way and I'm afraid of pulling it accidentally. I know I'm not making much sense, but it's how I feel. They told me (the sources I have who have been here before) that this part was the easy part. They lied. Or maybe they meant radiation. That's Phase III. We're still in Phase II - surgery. Phase I was chemo.
I do remember this. Yesterday the surgeon called with the pathology report. It wasn't good. Three out of twenty-three nodes were positive. To quote the surgeon, "That's very good considering the size of the thing." Yes, but what of the margins? Positive. That's bad. It means he didn't get it all. He said he may have to go in again. Or, I don't know. He said he had to look at the slides himself and we'd talk about it when I went back in to see him, when the current incision stops draining so much. From the looks of things, that could take a while.
There's a volcano on Maui that people drive up early in the morning before the sun rises. Then everyone rides down at dawn on yellow bicycles. It's a beautiful thing to see and someday, I will do it myself.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Cancer Days Box
On my last post I asked people to send me a letter or a card, if they are so inclined, to add to my "Cancer Days" box. Then someone asked on a comment what a "Cancer Days" Box was. I guess it was a little confusing. I'm talking about a Keepsake box, a box of memories, like you keep letters in a shoe box or whatever. For example, I have a "baby box" with stuff relating to Jeremy's birth. Since I found out about the cancer some people have sent me get well cards or little gifts. (I have a post card from my sister that she sent from Egypt.) At first I didn't think I'd want to save the cards, because I thought I wouldn't want to be reminded of this year of cancer. But actually, the cards remind me that I have friends, old and new, which is something I do want to remember. I hope that clears things up.
So, as I said, if you are so inclined, please send me a card, funny or serious, or a letter or a note or a blank sheet of paper with your signature on it, or anything that will remind me of you that I can put in my box of "good" memories from my "bad" "Cancer Days."
If you need my address than email me directly. You can get my email address by clicking on my name at the top of the page under "contributors."
That's about all I can write tonight. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the surgery. Today I'll just say it all went well and I'm feeling better than I expected to.
So, as I said, if you are so inclined, please send me a card, funny or serious, or a letter or a note or a blank sheet of paper with your signature on it, or anything that will remind me of you that I can put in my box of "good" memories from my "bad" "Cancer Days."
If you need my address than email me directly. You can get my email address by clicking on my name at the top of the page under "contributors."
That's about all I can write tonight. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the surgery. Today I'll just say it all went well and I'm feeling better than I expected to.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Surgery Day
No time left to blog. Thought I'd have time to remember what I had put down and lost, but people and work keep you busy. I mostly didn't get a chance to call anyone either.
Oh well, off to the hospital. I may not be able to type for a while.
Wish me luck!
Oh well, off to the hospital. I may not be able to type for a while.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
DAMN
I just spent 45 minutes making a post and the damn thing is gone! I've lost it. Now I have to go to work and can't even try to recover it. Sometimes I hate modern technology. I just don't know what happen.
Oh well, maybe I'll remember some of what I had to say when I get home from work, tired and brain dead. Hmmm, not likely. Well, I'll try again later anyway. Should have saved it as I went along.
Oh if you're so inclined, send me cards and letters for my "Cancer Days" box.
Oh well, maybe I'll remember some of what I had to say when I get home from work, tired and brain dead. Hmmm, not likely. Well, I'll try again later anyway. Should have saved it as I went along.
Oh if you're so inclined, send me cards and letters for my "Cancer Days" box.
Countdown to Phase Two
I'm calling the lumpectomy and everything involved with it "Phase Two." Chemo was Phase One and the radiation treatment will be Phase Three.
I thought it would be a calm week leading up to the surgery. A time to contemplate my life and be introspective while waiting for the beginning of Phase Two. Yea, right! Would you believe I've had to go to the doctor or run to Shreveport everyday this week? Will it never end? (I think this is becoming my mantra.)
I'm going to the doctor, my PCP, in town because my legs are swelling and I'm retaining water. I'm taking something for it and I'm hoping it goes away by today or she's going to call the surgeon and tell on me.
And I've been working trying to get things in order for the poor souls that may have to handle some things while I'm out. I'll be out of work at least two weeks.
I planned to call a few people this week but have been exhausted by the time I get home. Maybe today.
I guess Phase Two has actually begun because I've seen the surgeon, had a mammogram and set the date. Yesterday I went to Shreveport for pretests. I think I passed. They took urine to do a pregnancy test (they never believe you know you're not preggers). They took blood, did an EKG and a chest X-ray. It took forever to give the nurse the info about medicines and health history (that one's getting ridiculous). The poor woman kept saying, "Oh no! You poor thing!"
Then she said, "Your parents must be frantic." I had to tell her they were both deceased. And she said, "Dawn, no! When did that happen?"
"I was 16 when my mom passed (kidneys) and 24 when my dad went (heart)."
"No, no, no!" Then she asked if I had any siblings. At this point I started laughing and told her about my family and Chrissy. I had to explain to her that I wasn't heartless and I grieve for everyone but it just seemed so ridiculous that each question she asked led to another tragic answer.
Then she asked if my hair was growing back and could she see it. So I took off my hat and showed her my baby orangutang look. She said, "Awww." She was sweet and laughed at my stupid jokes. The whole time she was asking questions she was typing. She even asked how my husband was handling all this and if he was alright. I don't know why the computer needed this info, but she put it all in there.
The good thing that happened: I bought new shoes!
Places I want to go: Devil's Island, Lake Superior at Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Wisconsin
I thought it would be a calm week leading up to the surgery. A time to contemplate my life and be introspective while waiting for the beginning of Phase Two. Yea, right! Would you believe I've had to go to the doctor or run to Shreveport everyday this week? Will it never end? (I think this is becoming my mantra.)
I'm going to the doctor, my PCP, in town because my legs are swelling and I'm retaining water. I'm taking something for it and I'm hoping it goes away by today or she's going to call the surgeon and tell on me.
And I've been working trying to get things in order for the poor souls that may have to handle some things while I'm out. I'll be out of work at least two weeks.
I planned to call a few people this week but have been exhausted by the time I get home. Maybe today.
I guess Phase Two has actually begun because I've seen the surgeon, had a mammogram and set the date. Yesterday I went to Shreveport for pretests. I think I passed. They took urine to do a pregnancy test (they never believe you know you're not preggers). They took blood, did an EKG and a chest X-ray. It took forever to give the nurse the info about medicines and health history (that one's getting ridiculous). The poor woman kept saying, "Oh no! You poor thing!"
Then she said, "Your parents must be frantic." I had to tell her they were both deceased. And she said, "Dawn, no! When did that happen?"
"I was 16 when my mom passed (kidneys) and 24 when my dad went (heart)."
"No, no, no!" Then she asked if I had any siblings. At this point I started laughing and told her about my family and Chrissy. I had to explain to her that I wasn't heartless and I grieve for everyone but it just seemed so ridiculous that each question she asked led to another tragic answer.
Then she asked if my hair was growing back and could she see it. So I took off my hat and showed her my baby orangutang look. She said, "Awww." She was sweet and laughed at my stupid jokes. The whole time she was asking questions she was typing. She even asked how my husband was handling all this and if he was alright. I don't know why the computer needed this info, but she put it all in there.
The good thing that happened: I bought new shoes!
Places I want to go: Devil's Island, Lake Superior at Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Wisconsin
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
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