Goodbye, 2015

Goodbye, 2015. Thanks for your delightful twists and turns. It's been nice knowing ya. Thank you. Go away now.

I can't even tell you how happy I am to see 2015 end. There have been so many ups, but just as many downs this year. What. A. Year. It doesn't even feel like December to me. The weather is unseasonably warm here. We've been so busy with life that the holiday has showed up with almost no warning. I couldn't even get stoked about decorating this year, but I finally did. Much, much later than usual. I finished the gift shopping on Dec. 20. While I did pick up a few gifts earlier (as in Black Friday) most of the shopping was done the weekend BEFORE Christmas. My first gift was placed under my tree on Dec. 20 as well. Geez.

So as this year winds down, I'm focused on 2016 and how we will make it a million times better. It's starting to come into focus, and I can just see all of the possibilities. 

I see a March wedding that I have dreamed about for almost 13 years. I see the man of my dreams giving me his last name. I see my new initials. I see a marriage that lasts a lifetime. I see a honeymoon full of smiles. I see a family vacation that our children will speak fondly of for years to come. I see 12-year-olds becoming teenagers. I see my son finally earning his first degree black belt. I see career success and professional fulfillment. I see a sweet little niece that I get to meet. And, I see 365 unwritten days that I get to make the very best of, filled with endless possibilities with of the people I love.

Sometimes life gets so hectic and busy that I forget that I get to decide how the day will go. Heavy stuff happens in everyone's life. There will be ups and downs all of the time, but I get to choose how it affects me. It's so easy to let the downs drag me down, but it's my choice to let it. Or not allow it to create my mood. In 2016 I choose to be happy, positive and present. Hello, 2016. I'm glad you're here.

It Gets Better

Today is an awesome day for me. I've had several crappy, God awful ones, but today rocks. Today I turn 37. I'm so very grateful. And thankful. My 36th year was filled with so many ups and downs. It was kinda awful at times. But today is different. Today marks a brand new beginning to a fresh new year - one where I'll marry my best friend (in six months). One where I get to live life more fully and to its maximum potential. 37 is gonna be grand. I can already tell.

Today I've heard from my family, friends, coworkers and acquaintances with wishes for a great day and year ahead, and I can honestly say that my heart is full. The blessing of a scary, awful medical experience is that you feel so much more completely whole in moments where you are so fully blessed. You don't take things for granted as easily. Life is truly a gift and you feel blessed to be alive.

If I could tell you one thing as you get ready to go through your DCIS journey, it's this: it gets better. You WILL feel better. If you are in pain, it's gonna pass. If you are uncomfortable because you have to sleep on your back, you WILL get to feel comfy in your own bed again. If you're scared about upcoming surgeries or procedures or test results - you'll get past it, and you'll surround yourself with a rockstar medical team who will guide you through it all. The crappy day you're having right now - the feeling that you're not "yourself" - the days when you are sad or angry or scared or uncertain. All of that DOES pass, and you'll feel better. One day you will.

There also could be speed bumps and twists and turns in the road. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. What if you get test results that change the diagnosis? What if the journey of fighting cancer must be repeated later down the road? What if things actually get worse? That's certainly a possibility too - for all of us. There are no guarantees, and I'm not naive enough to think that everything always works out in the end. Life is full of uncertainties and ups and downs. It tests your faith and your convictions. It always seems like you've either just gone through something, or you're in the middle of something, OR you're just about to go through something. That's life - no guarantees. Sometimes the news sucks. But I'd like you to consider that you are strong and that you will find a way to get through it, no matter what it is. And - God willing - once you're through it, you'll feel like a brand new person.

I'm at that place today where I can finally say that I am happy. I didn't know if or when I would get there. I've had many crummy, awful days. Days where I didn't think I could motivate anyone with my words here because I couldn't even motivate myself. It sucks.

My wish for you as I blow out my birthday candles today is that you'll soon get past this icky, awful time too, and that it will get better for you fast. I'm here to say, it gets better.

The Truth

So, the truth one week post-op is, I hate my boobs. I'm soooo trying to keep an open mind about this, but I'm bummed out. They aren't the shapes I had hoped for. They are smaller than I expected. And the right side - the side that did NOT have cancer - has a weird dent in it parallel to my incision. At my pre-op appointment the nurse warned me to remember that they are "sisters" not "twins," and I get that, I really do. But man, this sucks.  I know things have to settle and swelling has to subside (which will make things SMALLER?!) And I know my surgeon has told me I might want a revision to address symmetry down the road (yeah, ANOTHER surgery), but today I just want you to know how I'm feeling about it, in case you feel the same way too. This whole process sucks. There's no way around it. And I am sad.

I've been stressed out about weight loss too, with a new passion around that. I'm trying to find enough willpower to overcome my stress-eating ways. After being told that I can't for so long, I am truly ready to start moving and finding activity and exercise that I enjoy. Stuff that won't feel like punishment or work. I've got to refine my diet and improve my nutrition. 

I'm questioning what caused this in my body. What am I doing that made my body welcome these icky cells, and can I change it? Do I have the willpower to change it?

Ok. Rant over. Again, I count my lucky stars every single day because my worries are nothing compared with many who have fought and are fighting cancer. I'm lucky. These worries are nothing compared to some, and I'm truly blessed. But I just wanted you to know that it's OK to feel crummy about your outcome. Not everyone will look as perfect as some of the reconstructed breast images you'll see online. Only time will tell if I can get used to the new way that I look.

Bed time! Four days post op

It has been 4 days since my implant surgery, and I am finally feeling better. My weekend was rough. For most of it, I had a low-grade fever, a low appetite and low energy. I slept a lot. But my pain level has also been very low (yay!!!). That is both good and bad, to me. This pain is lower than my tissue expander discomfort, but it's partly because I am numb. I know I need to take it easy to heal, but because I am not feeling pain, I could over-do it without realizing it. I do have some minor muscle soreness. But it is nothing compared to everything else. I'm on my third day without my prescription pain meds. And all my systems seem to be back to normal post surgery (hallelujah!). I'm attempting to sleep in my bed tonight surrounded by pillows. Since my mastectomy on June 1, I think I have tried 3 full nights in the bed. I would wake up multiple times - every time - so, I would default back to the couch the next night. My only real fear is turning over in my sleep and hurting myself. I have to remember that I have stitches and healing incisions. So, that's why I have the pillows. In the couch recliner it is almost impossible for me to turn over. I'm giving the bed another try. My back feels sooo much better without the expanders. I don't miss those things at all. Wish me luck!

Selecting Treatment for DCIS

Every cancer diagnosis is unique and dependent on many individual factors. It is full of individual characteristics and variables. Once you begin your journey, it's unlikely that your diagnosis will be identical to another person's.

I'm not a medical professional. I've never been through this before, and everything I share is based on my own personal experiences guided by a medical team that I trust. Just like the diagnosis is unique, the course of treatment is also unique. I encourage you to research everything recommended to you by your medical team. It will be based on your complete medical picture. What's right for me, might not be right for you. I can't tell you what's right for you, but I will share with you some of the information that I used to make my decision and some of the facts that I researched. I feel extremely lucky and blessed that with my diagnosis there were choices. I'm saddened that many cancer patients aren't offered any choices.

My diagnosis was Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS). That is considered to be Stage 0 breast cancer, and is non-invasive. Before I had my diagnosis, I chose to do a surgical biopsy of the tumor - or lumpectomy - where the entire tumor was removed for biopsy. When my diagnosis came back as DCIS, I had a choice of following up with a second surgery to remove more tissue that would ensure all of the cancerous tissue was removed followed by radiation treatments, or to do a mastectomy that would not require radiation or any further treatments. I chose to have skin-sparing bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction that would be completed in phases. My surgeon also recommended a sentinel lymph node biopsy to try to ensure that no cancer cells had spread to my lymph nodes. I chose to do that as well.

Why did I choose mastectomy? It's a major surgery - my first in fact. Because I chose mastectomy, my treatment did not include radiation or drug therapy. (Chemotherapy is not usually associated with this diagnosis, so none of that either.) I believe that I have reduced my chances of recurrence as much as I possibly could have. There are certainly no guarantees, but I sleep better knowing that I don't have to go through this testing and these surgeries to follow up on a lump in my other breast years down the road. When I met with a radiation oncologist he told me that either way I went, I couldn't make a wrong decision. But he also told me that if I had another lump in the future, that my medical team would likely recommend mastectomy at that point. That would mean going through every single step that I've been through all over again. Finding the lump. Worrying. Mammogram. Ultrasound. Biopsy. Waiting for results. MRI. And then - surgery again. Likely a mastectomy.

I'm a worrier. If I had chosen lumpectomy and still had breasts, I would be constantly scared that I'd find another lump. I'd be counting down the days and hours until my next mammogram, and I would be living in fear. I'd lose sleep over it. Some women know that they will have body image concerns, but I honestly am not one of them. I don't care at all about losing my breasts and having scars. My fiancé also doesn't care. I don't feel like less of a woman at all. I don't plan to have any additional children in the future or breastfeed again. And I don't have a need for functioning breasts. I'm totally comfortable with the idea of having reconstructed breasts.

The language of cancer is foreign to someone who hasn't been exposed to the terminology before. I had never heard of DCIS before my diagnosis. I knew about stages of cancer, and that women that I have known have gone through the journey before me, but I didn't have to memorize the terminology. Here's a rundown on my diagnosis, if you're uncertain about the terminology and would like to learn a bit more.

Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS) is a noninvasive condition in which abnormal cells are found in the lining of a breast duct. The abnormal cells have not spread outside the duct to other tissues in the breast. In some cases, DCIS may become invasive cancer and spread to other tissues. At this time, there is no way to know which lesions could become invasive.

DCIS is classified as Stage 0. The breast cancer stage is based on the results of testing that is done on the tumor and lymph nodes removed during surgery and other tests.

Most patients with breast cancer have surgery to remove the cancer from the breast. Some of the lymph nodes under the arm are usually taken out and reviewed to see if they contain cancer cells. A sentinel lymph node biopsy is the removal during surgery of the sentinel lymph node - the first lymph node to receive lymphatic drainage from a tumor. It is the first lymph node the cancer is likely to spread to from the tumor. A radioactive substance and/or blue dye is injected near the tumor. The substance flows through the lymph ducts to the lymph nodes. The first lymph node to receive the substance or dye is removed. A pathologist views the tissue under a microscope to look for cancer cells. If cancer cells are not found, it may not be necessary to remove more lymph nodes.

The standard recommended courses of treatment for DCIS may include:

• Breast-conserving surgery (like lumpectomy, which removes the tumor and a small amount of normal tissue around it) and radiation therapy with or without tamoxifen
• Total mastectomy (surgery to remove the whole breast that has cancer; some of the lymph nodes under the arm may be removed for biopsy at the same time as the breast surgery or after) with our without tamoxifen. In a bilateral mastectomy, both breasts are removed. If a patient chooses mastectomy, breast reconstruction (surgery to rebuild a breast's shape after a mastectomy) may be chosen. Breast reconstruction may be done at the time of the mastectomy or at a future time. The reconstructed breast may be made with the patient's own (non-breast) tissue or by using implants filled with silicone gel or saline.
• Breast-conserving surgery without radiation

I researched and considered alternative treatments as part of my plan as well. Each patient is entitled to be their own advocate and ultimately be in charge of every step that you take. I'm learning about, and taking steps to improve my nutrition every single day. I also believe that increased activity will benefit me. I believe that everyone can benefit from that no matter what.

I used Navigating Cancer and Blood Disorders, a web site founded and developed by accomplished professionals from the healthcare and technology worlds, as my primary source for describing DCIS and treatment options in this blog. This web site was provided to me by my oncologist, and is one that I trust. I encourage you to use sources provided to you by your medical team as well. There are tons of sites out there, but please spend most of your time at the ones your medical team refers you to.

Expanders Out - Implants In!!!

Tonight I'm home in absolute awe over how EASY today's surgery was. I keep thinking I'll start to feel worse at any minute, because I don't feel that bad at all right now! (Thanks, pain meds!) The hardest part - legitimately - was all the WAITING I had to do before my procedure began. 

I had to make sure that I didn't eat or drink anything after midnight the night before, so I got a snack around 11 p.m. That was a smart move since things were slower than planned. This morning I showered with anti-bacterial soap, and shaved my legs in case I can't for several days. I got my driving pillow for the seatbelt, my pain medicine, changed into my glasses, and chose comfy, loose clothes (and a button-up shirt.) My procedure was scheduled for 1:15 p.m. We arrived at 11:30 and got checked in with the receptionist. In 15 minutes or so I was called back to get in my fancy gown and weird grippy socks to get prepped for surgery. That part was quick. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. 

I was so happy to see a nurse that has been in all THREE of my surgery pre-ops/recoveries. She even remembered me. It made me feel comfortable instantly. As she was reading my paperwork, she asked me if she was in my other surgery. And later she remembered that she was in both of my other surgeries. (I thought so too, but was afraid it was a delusional moment post surgery.) The nurses did all the standard questions and typing into the computer - when did you last eat, last take meds, did you leave the country, blah, blah, blah. And they took my temp and blood pressure. For some reason my temperature was 99.8 - I was really nervous that would be a deal breaker, and I had no clue why I had a low-grade fever. I wasn't feeling sick - just really nervous and anxious. There was no other mention of it, but I was really afraid they'd tell me I had to postpone.

At around 1:05 p.m. the nurse told me that the surgery before mine hadn't ended yet, and that it would be a few more minutes. 

Around 1:45 p.m. my surgeon came by to talk with me. He told me it would be a breeze, and that he'd place the implant size that looked the best. 

About 10 minutes later I met with the anesthesiologist. He put me at ease too. 

Usually after the doctors talked with me at my other surgeries, things started to progress quickly, and it wasn't long before the OR nurse arrived and introduced herself. Before she materialized, I went to the restroom really quickly, and then sometime after 2, it was time to go back. I handed over my glasses (which meant that I could only see blurs and outlines from that point on), and I said "see ya later" to my fiancé.

In the operating room they had pop music playing. I told myself I'd remember the song, but of course, I don't. The nurse leveled out my cot so that I could get up on the operating table. I did. I remember them untying the gown around the back of my neck as I positioned myself in the right spot on the table. They placed a few sticker sensor things on me, and then I got the mask for the deep breaths. I think I took 3, or maybe 4, breaths. I heard the anesthesiologist tell me to pick something good to dream about, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery! It was a little over an hour later, in reality.

My eyes felt super heavy when I first woke up. I struggled to keep them open. I didn't feel any pain - or at least nothing compared to the pain waking up after my mastectomy - just some soreness. And my arms felt a bit sore too, for some reason. I had an oxygen mask on, and I hoped that breathing in deeply would help me feel normal faster. I hoped that I wouldn't say anything stupid and incoherent to the nurses while I was coming to. I reminded myself to keep my mouth shut. :) The nurses let me rest for several more minutes, and said they'd go get my fiancé to come back with me. They also let him pull the car around to patient pick up, so I knew I'd be moving out soon! When he arrived back there, my eyes were still feeling heavy, but it eventually got better. The nurses got me some ice water to sip on. And offered me some Sprite. I had a yucky taste in my mouth, and they said the Sprite would help. The biggest win of all - NO QUEASINESS this time! At 4 p.m. they gave me some crackers, and I took one of my pain pills. I went to the restroom again, got dressed, and it was time to go home!

When I got home I ate some crackers and chicken noodle soup since I wasn't able to eat beyond midnight the night before surgery. I started my antibiotics. I've felt great ever since! I can move my arms like normal! I didn't need help to get to the restroom. I could get in and out of the car on my own. It is AMAZING how awesome I feel! Now, I know that tomorrow I'll probably feel sore and achy, but I can totally handle this, so far. :) I'm on my recliner/couch with my pillows around me. I've got ice packs to use intermittently to help with pain and swelling reduction. And I feel great! I did have some bleeding on one side - I was told that would be normal, and to change the gauze as needed. We did that right before bed. It's a slow staining, but I'll keep an eye on it. I can see my incisions through the steri-strips. I'm wearing an elastic binder that closes with Velcro in the front. That is holding the gauze against my incisions. I can see that the same mastectomy scars were used, and that they are not cut the entire length. The ends in the middle of my chest aren't cut. I'll take some photos tomorrow. And the best part - THERE ARE NO SURGICAL DRAINS!!!!!!!! I really hate those darn things.

All in all, I am so pleased. The surgeon told my fiancé that everything went great. I have one side that expanded differently, and that might cause some symmetry problems, but we won't know for sure for a few months. I'm really pleased with the results. My skin feels way more normal when I press on it. When I put my hand over my heart I don't have to cup my hand around a bulky tissue expander. And, from what I can see so far, the placement is way closer to a natural breast placement. Thank. Goodness.

We'll see what tomorrow - and the weekend ahead - brings! Thank you so much for your well wishes and prayers. I was so nervous all day today, and I thank you for thinking of me.

Ugh, I hate IV's, but today's nurse told me to take a deep breath when she inserted it, and it hardly hurt at all! The stinging when one of my medicines started was way worse.

My oncology facility gave me this super cool reusable (it has a snap) lymphedema alert bracelet. The nurses thought it was awesome. Not sure they've seen it before. It's hot pink, and it's way cooler than the paper one that I usually get.

Surgery #3 is Tomorrow - Silicone Implant Day

Tomorrow - July 30, 2015 - is surgery #3. I'm going in to get my tissue expanders removed and replaced with silicone gel implants. I'm very excited, but I am also trying to keep my expectations at a realistic level. I know that I might not be 100% thrilled with the outcome. They won't be perfect. They definitely won't look like my original breasts. But they'll be breast-shaped. I'll feel more normal. And I'll be on my way to resuming my life. I never lose sight of the fact that I am lucky, and that there are no guarantees - ever. No guarantees with the outcomes of surgery, and no guarantees in life at all.

I'm excited and a bit nervous too. But I'm definitely ready for an improved side view.

At my pre-op appointment with my surgeon, we talked about the placement of the silicone gel implants. I'm going to get shaped implants that are flatter on the top, to help compensate for the way I've expanded. My surgeon told me he thinks I'll be pleased with them and with the final placement, compared to where the tissue expanders sit on my chest.

My last saline fill was July 13, 2015. After each fill, I'd have 3 really sore days, then 3 pain-free days, then I'd head back to the surgeon's office the next day for my next fill. Today is my 13th pain-free day. I'm lucky that I've felt like preparing things and getting things done around the house to prepare for my recovery from surgery. I've spent most of this week trying to do preparations around the house. I've pre-scheduled all of the August household bills to be paid at the appropriate times. I've done all of the laundry. The dishes are done too. I sorted through some of the boxes left over from the move and tossed out some stuff I don't need any longer. I've tried to eliminate some of the clutter that's started to collect around the house. I've done school supply shopping. I even got my hair trimmed and washed today. I've got my anti-bacterial soap to shower with tonight and again in the morning. I don't have any polish on my toes or fingers, as instructed. My pain medication prescription is filled. I think I'm physically ready.

I also took some photos of my tissue expanders so that I can compare them once my swelling is gone. My tissue expanders have ended up being really high on my chest - too high to be natural breasts. They start expanding about an inch below my collar bones. My surgeon has assured me that he's not concerned about correcting the placement in my surgery. I can't wait to see the outcome - with realistic expectations.

Please say a prayer for me, and for my family, as we gear up to go in. I'll keep you updated.

Surgery #3 Pre-Op

Since my tissue expander fills are over, I was hoping I would be able to get through this whole week without any needles, but no such luck. Today was my pre-op appointment at the hospital, and it required blood to be drawn. I'm all set for surgery #3 next week to get rid of my tissue expanders and place my implants. I can't wait!

What is a Mammogram like?

I never spent much time worrying about what a mammogram would be like. I just accepted it as a normal screening that I'd do when my insurance company started to cover it. (Under my plan it's covered at age 40 for women who aren't at high risk.) After my diagnosis, I mentioned to my surgeon that I had started advocating for early mammograms, and he told me that sometimes people who personally know someone who has had a cancer diagnosis become MORE HESITANT to be screened. I hadn't really considered that everyone would look at this differently. It's always challenging to see things through someone else's perspective. So if you haven't had a mammogram screening before, I wanted to tell you what it's like. I'm not a medical professional - just someone who has had to learn about it quickly, as a patient.

I'm absolutely NOT afraid of doctors. I view them as vital. If something is going wrong with me, I want to know as soon as possible so that I can start to fix it. I do annual exams with my gynecologist. I'm not at all afraid of it. I always chalk that up to having a child - once you've been through that experience, modesty goes out the door, and nothing seems awkward or painful at all about an annual exam. I had planned to be just as diligent about mammograms too. I've followed along several breast cancer journeys, and I knew the risks.

Check Yourself Monthly
I always did self exams of my breasts in the shower. They always felt "lumpy" to me, so I wasn't sure I would know what I was looking for if I found something iffy. My doctor always does an exam of my breasts annually as well, and I'd always feel the same way that she does - circular motions, kneading dough motions, etc. I just wasn't sure what I was looking for - until, that is, I found it. In the shower, I noticed what I can only describe as a grape under my skin. I don't know the exact date that I found it, but I did. And, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I knew that I should have it checked out. How did I know?

1. It was new. It had developed and wasn't there before.

2. It was different. It was unlike any other area or bump or inconsistency I had ever felt before. Everything else within my breasts felt similar. If I felt a bumpy area, it was very similar to all the other bumpy areas.

3. It didn't go away. Breasts can change with our normal female cycles throughout the month. Sometimes breasts are tender and sore, and other times everything feels just fine. This place was always there; after I noticed it - it never went away.

Now, there are many things to look for with breast changes. Sometimes it's an indentation in the breast or an inversion. It could feel harder, feel like a lump, look like a dimple, etc. I found one illustration that shows 12 different signs of breast cancer that you should be looking for. But to best summarize it: you're looking for something that is DIFFERENT than before. Become familiar with how your breasts feel, and look for anything that is a change. Talk to your doctor if you have any questions, or if you notice anything. Don't be afraid. The sooner you find it, the better your outcome could be.

I've also learned that sometimes these things can't be detected by touch. Sometimes they are there, they are small, and they are bad news. That's why I can't imagine NOT wanting to be screened. If something nasty and deadly is lurking, I want to eradicate it. I hope you won't be afraid either.

After I found the lump and talked to my doctor, she set up a mammogram for me. The appointment was excrutiatingly FAR away from the date that I scheduled it. So I kept calling back to see if there were any cancellations. I finally got lucky, and got one - and got in 5 days sooner. That was important to me. By the time my original appointment rolled around, I already had the cancerous growth out of my body. Be your own advocate. Don't hesitate. Don't be afraid or timid.

I walked into my mammogram knowing that I had this lump that needed to be checked out, so I had a diagnostic mammogram. The technician took many images of the one spot in questions, from different angles, because we knew the spot was there. I wasn't intimidated at all. I wanted those images, and I wanted to deal with whatever it was. Was it uncomfortable? Yes. A little. Was it weird to have my breasts tightly pressed between plastic for photos of them? Yes. It was. But I simply did not care, because I had to know what I was dealing with. The technician told me to let her know if she was pressing too tightly on my breasts. I let her clamp it down as much as she wanted to, because I wanted the best possible images. I wouldn't describe it as painful, just really uncomfortable. But it was only until she could get the image, and then it was released.

I wore a shirt-like gown in place of my shirt. I removed it for the images. The nurse placed stickers on my nipples and on any place on my skin that was raised, so that it would be noted on the images. She also put stickers near the questionable area, since we knew about it. Then she walked me through each step. She told me where to stand and where to put my hands. She positioned my body into the machine and then told me to let her know if it was too much pressure. It wasn't for me. She took many images, and in 15 minutes or so, it was over. She told me she'd take the images to the radiologist to review and they'd let me know if I needed to do anything else.

So I waited in my gown-like shirt.

They did ultrasound images next. A new technician came to get me and we did that. It was very much like the procedure when you are looking for a baby, and I have been through that before, so this was easy. The technician used the cold gel on my breast, and took several images. When she was done, she told me either she, or the radiologist would talk with me about the findings. After several minutes she came back in and told me the radiologist would talk with me, and that I could get my shirt back on. I walked into the area where the radiologist sits to review images on a screen. It was dark back there, and there were several nurses lined up to talk with him. When it was my turn, he showed me the tumor. He explained to me that it wasn't fluid-filled, and that it had a blood supply. Ick! I saw both the mammogram images and the ultrasound ones. He recommended a biopsy as a next step, but the nurse said she'd also set me up for a consult with a surgeon. I wasn't sure why, but I went with it.

I met my surgeon the next day, and he set me up for surgery - a lumpectomy - the very next day after that. He explained to me my options regarding a needle biopsy or a lumpectomy. Getting rid of the thing sounded preferable to me from the very beginning. He told me I wouldn't have to feel it, or explain it to a doctor in every mammogram for the rest of my life if we just got rid of it, and that we wouldn't be messing around if it turned out to be something nasty. I'm very thankful that I listened to my gut on that one. And, I was super grateful that my surgeon's schedule was able to match my sense of urgency. I thought it would take days or weeks to be scheduled. When he said he could do it the next day, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I'm super grateful for my mammogram. It was able to rule out that I wasn't dealing with a cyst, and that it was something more serious that should be tested. I can't imagine my life if I had ignored it. I'm 36. What if I had waited four more years until I turn 40 to have a mammogram? I don't want to think about what could have happened if I had left it there for four more years!

I know that many things related to the medical world are scary and uncomfortable. Needles. Blood. Undressing. It sucks. But you know what sucks more? Not having a choice about your treatment plan because too much time has passed. I can deal with anything you throw at me, if it means that I can be healthy and alive longer.

If you have any questions about my experience, don't hesitate to ask! I'm literally an open book about this. :)

Random Things I Did Not Expect

1) I no longer have nipples, but luckily (ugh) those stupid weird, random nipple hairs are still there,  just living in a slightly new address. Thank goodness for that.

2) Sneezing is extremely painful post op. I  am squelching all sneezes indefinitely. 

3) Hot showers are therapeutic. But not too hot due to all of the numb areas. Didn't expect to hold my hands over my chest to test water temp. 

4) I am numb across my chest, under my arms and around the sides of my back. I noticed it when my fiancé was rubbing my back. Putting on deodorant - and shaving under my arms - feels really weird. 

5) No BRAS! I remember how excited I was when I got on the school bus the first day of the new school year in like 5th grade and told my bus friend that I "had to" start wearing a (training) bra. I didn't expect that I would have that same ecstatic - but opposite - feeling at age 36. I don't have to wear a bra unless I just want to! Yippee!

6) It absolutely IS possible to sleep on my back with lots of pillows. In fact I can now go to sleep quite easily. I didn't expect that I'd ever be able to sleep on my back. I hated it before my surgeries. But, I haven't slept on my side or stomach since May 31.

7) I didn't expect to feel guilty about my diagnosis, but every time that I walk into the oncology center, I feel awful. I feel so guilty that I had options. I didn't have to go through chemotherapy or radiation treatments. I feel guilty sharing my story, because there are so many others who have had it so much worse.

8) I take people up on their offers to help me or bring me things. It's not a sign of weakness at all - it's letting others show you their love and helping you. Don't turn it down.

9) I didn't think that I would second guess everything I've ever done in an effort to try to prevent a recurrence. I didn't think I'd blame myself and start thinking through how I identify and eliminate all of the things that are potentially causing me (and my family) harm.

10) I didn't expect to feel blessed after going through this. I'm so lucky. I have been given a second chance. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I imagined what it would be like if I couldn't experience all of the things that I want to experience. I am so lucky that I get to adjust my approach and live every moment to the fullest. Tomorrow is never promised, and I'll approach life that way. I didn't expect to feel so blessed.

Tissue Expander Fill Time

So, yeah. Those needles look HUGE, but keep in mind two things. First, I'm mostly numb. And second, it has 50 cc's of saline in it, and that takes a large syringe. I'll be stuck with these things 5 times. My tissue expanders were placed with 400 cc's of saline at the time of my mastectomy. I'll get 100 cc's at each appointment - hopefully in 5 consecutive weeks - to get up to a total of 900 cc's in each side. At that point, I'll be overfilled, and ready for more comfortable silicone implants.

My Bilateral Mastectomy - Not Sugar Coated!

On Monday, June 1, 2015, I went in to the hospital for my skin-sparing, bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. I also had a tracer injection a few hours before my surgery that would identify the lymph nodes that would need to be biopsied. The injection was done near my areola, and I had to massage the breast regularly to distribute the fluid before surgery. 

Once I was settled into my pre-op room, there was a lot of waiting. I turned on the tiny tv to try to make time pass faster, but I watched nothing - it was just on. Each of my surgeons (general surgeon who would perform the mastectomy, and plastic surgeon who would place the tissue expanders for my reconstruction) and the anesthesiologist came in to talk with me before my surgery. The plastic surgeon marked on my chest and discussed what he'd be doing. And then finally, it was time to go back. Two nurses came to roll me back. I remember feeling sad, anxious, nervous, relieved and scared - all at once. I said "see ya soon" to Will, and the nurses pushed me back to the operating room. I remember the giant doors. The ride wasn't long, but my mind was racing. I'm certain my heart was pounding. I was trying to remain calm, but I was really nervous.

I remember there being several people in the operating room. I heard my surgeon's voice. Being a contact lens wearer, I couldn't see very clearly. I already had to hand my glasses over to the nurse. They asked me to move from the rolling bed that I was on, over onto the operating table. They told me where to place my arms. I remember being concerned about the IV getting hung up on something as I moved, but I got settled in. Once I was positioned there, I took a couple of deep breaths into the mask - as instructed - and it seemed like only moments later, and I was waking up in recovery.

When I woke up, I recognized one of the nurses from my lumpectomy surgery. I felt a little bit of pain. I remember them telling me that if I felt pain to ask for pain medicine, so I did. That turned out to me a mistake. This was my second time under anesthesia, and the first time I had zero problems. This time, I got sick. I don't know if it was from the pain medicine or the after effects of anesthesia. I stayed sick that entire day and into the next morning. The nurses switched me over to pain medicine taken in pill form. I tried to eat and drink water, or eat ice, but I couldn't keep anything down.

I stayed in the hospital until 4 p.m. the following day. I was in my room for around 24 hours. It seemed much longer to me. I tried to nap often, but that first night was hard. There are all sorts of beeps and alarms. When my IV fluid was empty, an alarm would sound, and I was the only one who would hear it. I'd wait for as long as I could stand it, and then I'd press my nurse alert button. I really hated bothering them, because I could tell that they were so very busy, and I didn't feel like my concerns were urgent. Every time I would stand up to go to the restroom I would need help because for some reason, I didn't yet have shoulder bags for my two On-Q pain pumps. They were giant balls - bigger than a softball - and they had to be held and carried each time I got up. And I had the IV stand to deal with too. On top of all of that, every time I would stand up, I would get sick. It was awful. I felt helpless and depressed on top of the pain and overall discomfort. I just wanted to go home, but I couldn't until I could keep food down, go to the restroom and manage my pain. I tried to time my requests to go to the restroom as far apart as I could stand. I'd note the time I got up and if I felt the need to go again, I actually rationalized in my head if it had been long enough since the last time I got up. I knew I'd throw up, and I knew I'd have to ask the nurses for help.

Will stayed with me all day long. I woke up after one of my naps - sometime around 10 or 11 p.m., and Will was still there in one of the super uncomfy chairs. I felt really bad. He told me he wasn't going to leave without me knowing it. I told him I was OK, and that he could go sleep in a comfy bed. He always gets up early, and I knew he'd be back very early. During the day my sister brought my son to see me. They brought me red roses, a teddy bear and a get well balloon. I was so happy to see them. I showed him my IV and all the things that were coming out of me. I also got a lovely flower arrangement from my team at work. I was grateful to have people thinking of me. Will was in charge of updating close family and friends that day, and I made it a priority to FaceTime with my mom. I knew she wanted to be there too, and I wanted her to "see" me. So we FaceTimed that afternoon when my pain medicine was at its best.

There were other unpleasantries during that 24 hours. My nurses would check on me and take vitals every 3-4 hours. I developed a low-grade fever overnight. One of my drains came apart and I got the fluid all over me. The nurses helped clean me up. I had to have blood drawn at what seemed like 4 a.m. I'm not sure what time it actually was, but it was before 7 a.m. - while Will was at home. I also had to do those breathing exercises to prevent pneumonia. Those lovely people came to have me do the breathing exercises 3 times while I was there. 

The next morning my general surgeon came to check on me. He told me that in order to go home I had to be able to go to the bathroom; I had to have my pain managed; and I had to be able to keep food down. After that overnight stay, I was determined to meet those requirements. He also told me that getting up to move around would likely help get rid of that low-grade fever. I was really afraid I'd be sick if I moved, but I tried it. I was so relieved when I could move around without feeling sick. I eventually took a few laps up and down the hallway - with Will's help. We got to peek into the nursery (there weren't that many babies in there that day). It passed the time to get up and walk, so we walked 2 or 3 times.

My boss and a teammate from work came by to visit me. I was feeling so much better by then. And the nurses were discussing releasing me, so I was feeling good. While I had guests, the nurse came in to take my IV out! I was thrilled. I was going home! Will helped me pack everything up into the truck, and he was able to drive the truck to the patient pick up door. We got everything we needed, and instructions for taking care of my drains, and I got to take the wheelchair ride downstairs.

Getting into the truck, and going over all of the bumps of the road wasn't fun. But getting to sit in my own house, in our recliner, in front of our TV made it all worthwhile. I was finally home.

When I got home I looked like this. I had an elastic binder that used Velcro to close it. I also had four attachments - two On-Q pain pumps that were contained in black zippered bags, and two surgical drains - the nurse navigator gave me pink bags with ribbon straps to hold the drains in. The very tiny pain pump tubes are visible above my binder. The larger drain tubes were coming out of each of my sides.

Close up of the bags. The clear thin tubes belong to the pain pumps; the red larger tubes are my surgical drains doing their job.

The drains truly looked like grenades. I used a lanyard around my neck to hold them while I showered, and I alternated a few different ways to deal with them. I used the pink bags for a few days. I used my lanyard sometimes as well. And, I used giant safety pins to attach them to my binder or camisole. I had my drains for two weeks. We had to use two fingers to "strip" all of the fluid and tissue out of each tube, measure and record the output and time of measurements during that time. The amount of fluid decreased over time, and the color of the fluid gradually changed from red to reddish to pink to brownish yellow.

I had sutures holding each of my drain tubes in place. These things were sore, and were one of the worst parts of this whole ordeal. Each time I'd bump one, or adjust my posture in my recliner, it would hurt. I would finally get one side to stop hurting, then the other would start hurting more. I also had one incident where a tube got stuck on a kitchen drawer handle. Ouch. I was way more careful after that incident.

On Friday, June 5, 2015, I had an appointment with my plastic surgeon to have my pain pumps removed. I didn't see the surgeon at the appointment, as he was in surgery. The nurses removed the pain pump tubes. The tubes were very thin, and the place they exited my chest was taped to my skin, so they weren't bothersome. The nurse simply removed the tape, and pulled the tubes out. There was a LOT of tubing inside of me - way more than I expected. The removal didn't hurt at all. It just felt really odd to have it exit my body. I got Band-Aids over the exit spot in my skin. The nurses also stripped my drains to show us how. THAT HURT. I was way more careful with tugging on the exit point during the stripping. It really made me hate the drain stopping procedure. But my drain tubes were indeed clear after that.

I got my appointment to return for my drain removal - Monday, June 15, 2015. If everything was going according to plan, this would also be my first saline fill into my tissue expanders.

Mastectomy Day

IV is in place. They used lidocaine to numb my hand a bit before inserting it. It really helped (compared to surgery #1 for my lumpectomy.) Now we wait. I had a tracer injection to identify the lymph nodes that need to be removed/biopsied. It takes a couple of hours for that to be ready to go, so I'm here. Waiting anxiously.

Surgery #2 is Here

It's bright and early on surgery day. June 1, 2015. I'm here early to allow time for the tracer injection to pinpoint the sentinel node during surgery. Bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Sentinel node removal/biopsy. Here we go.

Relaxation

Pre-surgery bubble bath!

Nails Off!

It's Saturday, May 30, 2015. Time to get my acrylic nails and toenail polish removed before surgery. See us later, little guys. We'll meet again soon when I get a brand new, fresh set! Surgery is on Monday, June 1, 2015. Let's do this.

Lumpectomy Progression

On April 29, 2015, I had my first surgery - an outpatient surgical biopsy of the lump that I found in my left breast. A lumpectomy. I took photos immediately after surgery (May 1, 2015), as my bruising progressed the following week (May 3, 2015), and then after my steri-strips were removed (May 8, 2015). My surgeon did a wonderful job with the incision. I hated to have to mess up his work! I'm fully convinced that I wouldn't even notice the scar if I still had it today.

Ultrasound after Mammogram

My first mammogram prompted an ultrasound. I knew it wasn't good when the tech brought me back to speak with the radiologist. When he said that the lump had a blood supply I knew it really wasn't good. Next up: meeting with a surgeon to figure out what's going on for sure.

Note to Self

Oh, geez. I guess next time I will remember to say something like please don't place the washcloth you used to shine your shoes on top of my toothbrush. 

Twelve Years

I can't count the number of times I was told how fast time flies for a parent. I heard it many times. Each time I was focused on the moment and didn't care to consider beyond it. No doubt I was rushing around to keep up with my schedule or worrying about the ups and downs of life. And I was remembering how long it took for me to graduate high school and finish college. Perspective is certainly dependent upon age. In 2003 it certainly didn't seem like time was quickly passing, as a tiny baby boy was in my arms. 

Now here we are - 12 years later. Twelve. If I hadn't been there for every moment of it, I simply would refuse to believe it.

Twelve years ago at this very hour - 11 p.m., I was just arriving at the hospital in Northwest Arkansas. The arrival of my one-week-past-due baby boy came without any fear or fire drills. The signs that he was coming came very calmly while I was in the restroom peacefully at home. I could not have planned it any better. In my estimation it would have happened at an embarrassing moment. While I was at work perhaps or in the car. There was certainly no need for the plastic shower curtain I had been sleeping on top of, strategically placed underneath my bed sheets. Thankfully. I was terrified that I would be speeding to a medical facility in extreme pain, panic and terror. Fueled by dramatic television portrayals of how it happens, I had convinced myself of the worst possible scenarios when I imagined the day. Thank goodness that was not the case.

No, in fact, it couldn't have been a calmer arrival. I called my doctor to ask if I should come in. My water had broken but nothing felt any different. Nothing was really happening. I wondered - and even asked - if I could just sleep at home and come in when it was closer to time. The medical professional told me it was best to come in. So I did. 

I calmly got there. Checked in. Got to a room, still calm, and still not sure it was even time to be there. I spent the night of January 13, 2003 in the hospital room where I would meet my baby boy the next day. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Too nervous to sleep. With the help of some medical and pharmaceutical support, I became a mom the next morning. 

It blows my mind that earning the title of "mom" requires no qualifications or prerequisites. Sure, you have doctors and nurses who make a few fast suggestions before they send you off on your way to figure out how to care for a child back at home. But when it really comes down to it, you're on your own. I have learned every single day. And I continue to learn. I am in no way perfect, but I trust that I am perfect for my son. I believe that God's plan is a perfect one. I trust that He knows exactly what He is doing. I've been a single mother for all but those first 5 months of my son's life. That didn't feel perfect when I was living it. That certainly wasn't how I pictured things. Though painful, it was absolutely the plan. Better things were coming. A happiness that I hadn't even considered was possible. And it was coming, years down the road. And I would be a better mom if I was on my own. In fact, I am.

Now I can see that I trained for this role my entire life. God gave my son one of the bossiest and most independent moms in the entire world. One who could handle the path. Shakily at first, but eventually with confidence and certainty. I was made for this. Was it easy? No way. I definitely could not have done it without the support of my family that first year. But I did it.

I often have said out loud that every year of motherhood is better than the previous one. First you have a baby. That's cool. But then all these awesome milestones start to happen. Then words. And sentences. And questions. And conversations. And before you know it there's school. And activities. And martial arts. And band. As we approach the teenage years I hope the trend continues. May I always find more joy and appreciation year after year. 

Just as I felt 12 years ago, I don't feel prepared to raise a teenager.  But I am certainly up for the challenge of figuring it out. Bring. It. On.

I get six more years to figure out how to prepare a young man to be his best self in this great big world. Only six more years before college, career and hopefully adventures and a wonderful life of his own. But the world isn't easy, or fair. I pray that I'll be guided to make the right decisions along the way as I help him be the very best grown-up that I possibly can.

Happy birthday to my sweet, sweet T. I love your laugh, your blue eyes, your quick-witted sense of humor and tendencies to start random collections. Your appreciation of music, movies, television and technology makes my heart smile. I love how you value family. I love your ability to adapt and see the possibilities ahead. I love you, baby boy of mine. Happy 12th birthday. 

Love, 

Mom