I'm pretty proud of the fact that I've made it this far with no Valium or other anti-anxiety drugs. Well, except for the evening Margarita, but does that count?
My plan to focus on work and kids' activities and house chores has also gone pretty well. And today my mom even got me to sit still long enough for a manicure and pedicure. I'm hoping that bright red, pretty toes will make up for at least a little bit of the crapiness I'll be feeling tomorrow and in the coming days.
So, I was doing OK until tonight when the anesthesiologist called. If you haven't had surgery before, the anesthesiologist gets his schedule at the end of the day and then calls the next day's patients to check on allergies, potential problems with any of the drugs they generally use, etc. His call suddenly stripped away all of the tasks and things I've been using to avoid dealing with losing my breasts tomorrow and made it all too real. I called my husband and told him to come home because I'd just lost it.
I pulled myself together in a little while and thought long and hard about how I want to deal with all of it, the cancer, the loss of my breasts, the fear of what comes next, and then I remembered my prayer; God, Please give me the strength to do what I have to in order to live a full and active life with my family, and the grace to do all of it in a way that honors the life I've built with my husband and my relationships with my family, my friends, and my God.
I'm afraid, though, that the hard part is still to come.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
What to do while waiting
My surgery is in 5 days. Friends have been asking me the past couple of days how I'm doing, am I ready, and is there anything I need.
I'm managing, mostly I'm just working, trying to get things in order before I have to be out for more than a week, getting ready for the Bible study we host on Saturday, stocking the kitchen, writing tons of notes for my husband and my mom about the girls' schedule, lunch box foods, homework and upcoming tests, and mostly trying not to think about what will happen in 5 days.
And, in perfect honesty, I'm also trying to wear every good bra I own and every cleavage-requiring top I have because I won't get to wear the bras again and the tops won't fit the same ever again. Fake breasts, whether prosthetics or implants, don't sit the same as real breasts. (Warning, boob discussion comes next) Most women who nurse end up smaller and saggier than before. I didn't. Yes, the boobs are less perky than when I was in my 20s, but they are fuller and I have actual cleavage. Nursing for 3 1/2 years didn't flatten me out, it gave me boobs I didn't have before. Like most women, my boobs aren't foremost in my mind, especially since I stopped nursing. But, the thought of not having any breasts at all because of a cancer I can't even feel, and even more so, the thought of having an implant that is not me and has no feeling at all, saddens me in ways I never thought possible. I need to not think about that.
So, for the next 5 days, I'll work, take care of my girls, spend time with my husband, prepare for the Bible study, write notes for my mom, and try my best not to think too much about what I have to do next Wednesday.
I'm managing, mostly I'm just working, trying to get things in order before I have to be out for more than a week, getting ready for the Bible study we host on Saturday, stocking the kitchen, writing tons of notes for my husband and my mom about the girls' schedule, lunch box foods, homework and upcoming tests, and mostly trying not to think about what will happen in 5 days.
And, in perfect honesty, I'm also trying to wear every good bra I own and every cleavage-requiring top I have because I won't get to wear the bras again and the tops won't fit the same ever again. Fake breasts, whether prosthetics or implants, don't sit the same as real breasts. (Warning, boob discussion comes next) Most women who nurse end up smaller and saggier than before. I didn't. Yes, the boobs are less perky than when I was in my 20s, but they are fuller and I have actual cleavage. Nursing for 3 1/2 years didn't flatten me out, it gave me boobs I didn't have before. Like most women, my boobs aren't foremost in my mind, especially since I stopped nursing. But, the thought of not having any breasts at all because of a cancer I can't even feel, and even more so, the thought of having an implant that is not me and has no feeling at all, saddens me in ways I never thought possible. I need to not think about that.
So, for the next 5 days, I'll work, take care of my girls, spend time with my husband, prepare for the Bible study, write notes for my mom, and try my best not to think too much about what I have to do next Wednesday.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Peg Leg Store
I started calling it the peg leg store to help alleviate my boss' distress at having me mention prosthetic breasts in the office. Have I mentioned I work for a church? Fair warning, this post is all about the peg legs.
This week my friend, Kathryn, agreed to go with me to pick out the t-shirts I'll need after my mastectomy. They have little pouches that hold the drains I'll have after surgery and they are supposed to be very very soft and easy to put on and take off while recovering.
The ladies who run the shop are so very nice. They set me up in a very sweet dressing room to try on the shirts and then took care of all of the insurance (insurance covers 2 of the t-shirts, since they cost more than $50 each, I'm very grateful!). Once the shirts were fitted, they showed me the prosthetics that they have for younger women. These are lighter and perkier than their standard prosthetics, with lotion on the skin-side to help even out any rib or scar lumps. They were also glad to show me the bras so I could see that they were not all staid, old designs. Now, I have to admit they were nice, not the type of bra I'm used to wearing, but I suppose none of this is what I'm used to anyway.
I still think Victoria's Secret should come out with a line of prosthetic bras since it seems that there are quite a few women my age and younger with breast cancer. We all won't want to immediately go with implants, so I think the market is there.
At any rate, I won't need to worry about the prosthetics for 8 weeks or so. They won't fit me for these until I'm completely healed. Until then, t-shirts and what they call "softies", which I plan to skip for now. They look more like little doll pillows than breasts and are stuffed with regular pillow stuffing. actually, they are closer to the "stuffing the bra with socks" method! They are so far off the mark that I would prefer flat to sock stuffing.
This week my friend, Kathryn, agreed to go with me to pick out the t-shirts I'll need after my mastectomy. They have little pouches that hold the drains I'll have after surgery and they are supposed to be very very soft and easy to put on and take off while recovering.
The ladies who run the shop are so very nice. They set me up in a very sweet dressing room to try on the shirts and then took care of all of the insurance (insurance covers 2 of the t-shirts, since they cost more than $50 each, I'm very grateful!). Once the shirts were fitted, they showed me the prosthetics that they have for younger women. These are lighter and perkier than their standard prosthetics, with lotion on the skin-side to help even out any rib or scar lumps. They were also glad to show me the bras so I could see that they were not all staid, old designs. Now, I have to admit they were nice, not the type of bra I'm used to wearing, but I suppose none of this is what I'm used to anyway.
I still think Victoria's Secret should come out with a line of prosthetic bras since it seems that there are quite a few women my age and younger with breast cancer. We all won't want to immediately go with implants, so I think the market is there.
At any rate, I won't need to worry about the prosthetics for 8 weeks or so. They won't fit me for these until I'm completely healed. Until then, t-shirts and what they call "softies", which I plan to skip for now. They look more like little doll pillows than breasts and are stuffed with regular pillow stuffing. actually, they are closer to the "stuffing the bra with socks" method! They are so far off the mark that I would prefer flat to sock stuffing.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Crazy Sexy Cancer Abounds
The DH is out of town, so no one is home to talk to after the girls are tucked in.
I've started reading Kris Carr's book, "Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips". I love that it is written by a woman who, despite a rare and incurable cancer, decided to use all of her talents and resources to tell the world that cancer abounds among young, active women. She wrote a wonderful paragraph about how, when someone says "cancer" you either picture a child or an elderly person, never a twenty, thirty or forty-something man or woman with a job, friends, kids, and a mortgage! Yet, despite the stereotype, there are thousands and thousands of young and middle-age adults living with one form of cancer or another. The point of her book, and of the documentary that will be on TLC, is that cancer is unmistakably redefining, but that there are ways to take your life back and make the most of it after cancer.
Today, while waiting for my youngest at gymnastics, I was reading this book and talking to my oldest about the pictures (which, by the way, are very cool) and about the women in the pictures and how they all have cancer, like mommy does. A few minutes later, the mom sitting next to me apologized for listening in, then asked me if I have cancer. When I replied that I do, she smiled and said she does, too. Hers is colon cancer. She'll be getting her 12th round of chemo next week to get ready for her 4th surgery. No family history, no risk factors, just colon cancer. Her matter of fact manner just made my heart ache. Today, she was watching her son at gymnastics.
We talked for a few minutes about the apparent rampent-ness of cancer among people our age (I have a whole theory I'm working out about the Baby Boomers and Millennials trying to squeeze out Generation X, but that can wait). Then we talked a bit about the book. She's going to check it out. I hope to see her again at gymnastics, to check on her and to see how her cancer posse is coming.
Here is the URL for the documentary and the book. Check it out: http://www.crazysexycancer.com
I've started reading Kris Carr's book, "Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips". I love that it is written by a woman who, despite a rare and incurable cancer, decided to use all of her talents and resources to tell the world that cancer abounds among young, active women. She wrote a wonderful paragraph about how, when someone says "cancer" you either picture a child or an elderly person, never a twenty, thirty or forty-something man or woman with a job, friends, kids, and a mortgage! Yet, despite the stereotype, there are thousands and thousands of young and middle-age adults living with one form of cancer or another. The point of her book, and of the documentary that will be on TLC, is that cancer is unmistakably redefining, but that there are ways to take your life back and make the most of it after cancer.
Today, while waiting for my youngest at gymnastics, I was reading this book and talking to my oldest about the pictures (which, by the way, are very cool) and about the women in the pictures and how they all have cancer, like mommy does. A few minutes later, the mom sitting next to me apologized for listening in, then asked me if I have cancer. When I replied that I do, she smiled and said she does, too. Hers is colon cancer. She'll be getting her 12th round of chemo next week to get ready for her 4th surgery. No family history, no risk factors, just colon cancer. Her matter of fact manner just made my heart ache. Today, she was watching her son at gymnastics.
We talked for a few minutes about the apparent rampent-ness of cancer among people our age (I have a whole theory I'm working out about the Baby Boomers and Millennials trying to squeeze out Generation X, but that can wait). Then we talked a bit about the book. She's going to check it out. I hope to see her again at gymnastics, to check on her and to see how her cancer posse is coming.
Here is the URL for the documentary and the book. Check it out: http://www.crazysexycancer.com
Meeting the Oncologist and Prepping for Surgery
Last Friday I had my initial appointment with my oncologist. She came highly recommended from two friends who also see her and from my surgeon.
The hardest part came when I was sitting with my husband, waiting, and suddenly realized that I was at "the cancer doctor". It struck me that the surgeon's office didn't bother me too much because almost everyone has surgery of some kind in their life. And the radiologist is the same guy that every woman sees every year for her mammogram, sick or not. But the oncologist is someone else. Only people with cancer see the oncologist. I know it probably sounds strange after the diagnosis and all that, but it just hit me very hard that I have CANCER.
The appointment itself went fine. She said the only unusual aspect to my situation is that there are three different types of breast cancer that were found: DCIS, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, and Tubular Carcinoma. All are treatable and the prognosis for all is quite good. She showed me the database they use to determine treatment options (it is called Adjuvant) and what the mortality rate and recurrence rates are for the various options based on my diagnosis.
Because I'm doing the double mastectomy, I've eliminated the need for radiation of the left side, so we only looked at chemo and Tamoxifen. Depending on what is found in the pathology after the mastectomy, I'll either do chemo then 5 years of Tamoxifen, or just the 5 years of Tamoxifen. The decision will be based on the extent of cancer that they find in the breast tissue and if there is any lymph node involvement. I won't see her again until October 15, because she wants me pretty well healed before we do anything else.
Today I spent much of my morning at the hospital getting registered and having my blood work and chest x-rays done. This was all very straightforward. The questions the pre-op nurse asks are pretty funny, though. "Have you ever experienced weight-loss that you did not intend?" Well, not until I was diagnosed with cancer and got too stressed out to eat! and "Have you ever experienced anxiety or depression that interfered with your life or required medication?" Not until recently!
In all fairness, the nurse was very nice and she knew what my answers would be to these questions. I asked her if she gets those answers a lot. She smiled and said she's been a nurse for a very long time.
The hardest part came when I was sitting with my husband, waiting, and suddenly realized that I was at "the cancer doctor". It struck me that the surgeon's office didn't bother me too much because almost everyone has surgery of some kind in their life. And the radiologist is the same guy that every woman sees every year for her mammogram, sick or not. But the oncologist is someone else. Only people with cancer see the oncologist. I know it probably sounds strange after the diagnosis and all that, but it just hit me very hard that I have CANCER.
The appointment itself went fine. She said the only unusual aspect to my situation is that there are three different types of breast cancer that were found: DCIS, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, and Tubular Carcinoma. All are treatable and the prognosis for all is quite good. She showed me the database they use to determine treatment options (it is called Adjuvant) and what the mortality rate and recurrence rates are for the various options based on my diagnosis.
Because I'm doing the double mastectomy, I've eliminated the need for radiation of the left side, so we only looked at chemo and Tamoxifen. Depending on what is found in the pathology after the mastectomy, I'll either do chemo then 5 years of Tamoxifen, or just the 5 years of Tamoxifen. The decision will be based on the extent of cancer that they find in the breast tissue and if there is any lymph node involvement. I won't see her again until October 15, because she wants me pretty well healed before we do anything else.
Today I spent much of my morning at the hospital getting registered and having my blood work and chest x-rays done. This was all very straightforward. The questions the pre-op nurse asks are pretty funny, though. "Have you ever experienced weight-loss that you did not intend?" Well, not until I was diagnosed with cancer and got too stressed out to eat! and "Have you ever experienced anxiety or depression that interfered with your life or required medication?" Not until recently!
In all fairness, the nurse was very nice and she knew what my answers would be to these questions. I asked her if she gets those answers a lot. She smiled and said she's been a nurse for a very long time.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Call from the Surgeon
A call from the surgeon's office asking me to come in the same day understandably makes me nervous. The first time this happened, I was told I had cancer, but it was very early stage "baby breast cancer". The second time this happened, I learned that it was not really "baby brast cancer" but invasive ductal carcinoma, at Stage 1c. So yesterday, the call gave me pause.
It actually turned out OK. Nothing has changed in my pathology or diagnosis, but she wanted to talk about the double mastectomy, what it would mean surgically, and to review my receptor tests again to see if I'd be a candidate for a Herceptin port (a little plug thing that is inserted just below the collar bone to receive the Herceptin drug. It is supposed to help especially with smaller arms and veins). she's now ordered what is called a FISH test that reviews the Her2Neu (gene) receptors again to getter a more detailed report. this will give a much better determination of whether I am a candidate for Herceptin and the port.
She also wanted to talk to me about how things will look after surgery. She said it will be dramatic and stark. I am pretty thin and tall and removing all the breast tissue will leave a long blank field. After talking with her, I expect to look like a big swizzle stick. She also mentioned depression. She said most mastectomy patients experience depression after the bandages come off, because the body and body image change are so radically altered. Maybe this is why so many women opt for reconstruction right away?
We talked about my decision to wait on reconstruction until I am done with treatment. She agreed with my reasoning. Quite simply, I am not up to interviewing plastic surgeons right now while I am still dealing with the cancer issues. I want to be able to interview a lot of them. Plastic surgery was never something I considered for any reason, except maybe in a weak "I hate my thighs" moment. If I am going to do plastic surgery, I want to be fully committed to what I'm doing. Right now, I'm just not.
The next step, barring any more calls from the surgeon, is to meet my oncologist on Friday to talk about the follow-up options. Then, next week Monday I do the pre-registration and bloodwork at the hospital and Tuesday I am going to the local prosthetics shop. I want to see what the prosthetics look like, check out wigs and buy this t-shirt for post-surgery that is supposed to be super soft and has a pocket for the drains that I'll have for the first week post-op. I promised my friend, Kathryn, that if she goes with me, I'll take her to radiation that day. We are certainly redefining the ladies day out!
It actually turned out OK. Nothing has changed in my pathology or diagnosis, but she wanted to talk about the double mastectomy, what it would mean surgically, and to review my receptor tests again to see if I'd be a candidate for a Herceptin port (a little plug thing that is inserted just below the collar bone to receive the Herceptin drug. It is supposed to help especially with smaller arms and veins). she's now ordered what is called a FISH test that reviews the Her2Neu (gene) receptors again to getter a more detailed report. this will give a much better determination of whether I am a candidate for Herceptin and the port.
She also wanted to talk to me about how things will look after surgery. She said it will be dramatic and stark. I am pretty thin and tall and removing all the breast tissue will leave a long blank field. After talking with her, I expect to look like a big swizzle stick. She also mentioned depression. She said most mastectomy patients experience depression after the bandages come off, because the body and body image change are so radically altered. Maybe this is why so many women opt for reconstruction right away?
We talked about my decision to wait on reconstruction until I am done with treatment. She agreed with my reasoning. Quite simply, I am not up to interviewing plastic surgeons right now while I am still dealing with the cancer issues. I want to be able to interview a lot of them. Plastic surgery was never something I considered for any reason, except maybe in a weak "I hate my thighs" moment. If I am going to do plastic surgery, I want to be fully committed to what I'm doing. Right now, I'm just not.
The next step, barring any more calls from the surgeon, is to meet my oncologist on Friday to talk about the follow-up options. Then, next week Monday I do the pre-registration and bloodwork at the hospital and Tuesday I am going to the local prosthetics shop. I want to see what the prosthetics look like, check out wigs and buy this t-shirt for post-surgery that is supposed to be super soft and has a pocket for the drains that I'll have for the first week post-op. I promised my friend, Kathryn, that if she goes with me, I'll take her to radiation that day. We are certainly redefining the ladies day out!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I Don't Have Time for This
Like many new cancer patients, I've been reading a lot about cancer, about my options, and about others who have dealt with this already. What none of the things I've read seems to talk about, is how much time cancer seems to require of one's life!
My mastectomy is in two weeks (double, plus sentinel node biopsy). Between now and then I have to finish as many projects as possible for work, set up help for my girls, set up a group and calendar for those who are so lovely and want to help, and get my house ready, maps together and directions set up for my mom and my husband so they can run the house while I am stuck in bed. On top of that, I need to go to doctor's appointments, visit the prosthetic shop to see what my options will be after the surgery, get to the hospital to register and do the blood work and I should continue trying to read as much as I can so I'm prepared for the doctor's appointments.
Oh, and I have to deal with the waves of panic and frustration that seem to come out of no where.
Like most moms, working or not, I have enough trouble trying to finish the myriad things I deal with every day. This cancer thing is just not helpful to maintaining my delicate balance of work, school, soccer, gymnastics, home, church and husband (sometimes, unfortunately, in that order).
Really, cancer is a time sucker.
My mastectomy is in two weeks (double, plus sentinel node biopsy). Between now and then I have to finish as many projects as possible for work, set up help for my girls, set up a group and calendar for those who are so lovely and want to help, and get my house ready, maps together and directions set up for my mom and my husband so they can run the house while I am stuck in bed. On top of that, I need to go to doctor's appointments, visit the prosthetic shop to see what my options will be after the surgery, get to the hospital to register and do the blood work and I should continue trying to read as much as I can so I'm prepared for the doctor's appointments.
Oh, and I have to deal with the waves of panic and frustration that seem to come out of no where.
Like most moms, working or not, I have enough trouble trying to finish the myriad things I deal with every day. This cancer thing is just not helpful to maintaining my delicate balance of work, school, soccer, gymnastics, home, church and husband (sometimes, unfortunately, in that order).
Really, cancer is a time sucker.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
God is in control...
For anyone who doesn't know, I am a christian. I keep it purposely lowercase because the world I live in seems to have far more shades of grey that the one the right-wing conservative Christians live in.
About 2 months ago, I left my job as Assistant Dean of the Library at a small college about 30 miles from my home to become the Director of Operations for my local church. Through all of the doctor appointments and biopsies and thoughts of more surgery and chemo, I am reminded daily that changing jobs when I did has become an unexpected blessing. Long commutes and late-night and weekend hours would have made going through all of this much harder. Looking ahead, chemo would have been impossible with my old job. But now, I know I'll have the support and flexibility needed to both fulfill my obligations at work and do what is necessary to beat the cancer.
And yet, I still am not sure why this is happening. People I know at work, at my girls' school, and other friends of faith have all said they are praying for me. I find enormous comfort in those prayers. What I am unsure of is how I should pray. I know what, selfishly, I want to pray for, the cure; the cure for myself, for Kathryn, for everyone dealing with cancer of any kind. But, I know that cure is not what I should pray for.
I should pray for strength, for wisdom, for the ability to build up others through this, and I do, sometimes. But, what I also want is to not have to do any of this at all; surgery, chemo, exhaustion, losing my breasts and maybe my hair, starting menopause too early, I just don't want to do any of it. Then again, neither does anyone who has to deal with these things.
Thought I might have an answer at the end of the day. Guess I need to continue working on those prayers.
About 2 months ago, I left my job as Assistant Dean of the Library at a small college about 30 miles from my home to become the Director of Operations for my local church. Through all of the doctor appointments and biopsies and thoughts of more surgery and chemo, I am reminded daily that changing jobs when I did has become an unexpected blessing. Long commutes and late-night and weekend hours would have made going through all of this much harder. Looking ahead, chemo would have been impossible with my old job. But now, I know I'll have the support and flexibility needed to both fulfill my obligations at work and do what is necessary to beat the cancer.
And yet, I still am not sure why this is happening. People I know at work, at my girls' school, and other friends of faith have all said they are praying for me. I find enormous comfort in those prayers. What I am unsure of is how I should pray. I know what, selfishly, I want to pray for, the cure; the cure for myself, for Kathryn, for everyone dealing with cancer of any kind. But, I know that cure is not what I should pray for.
I should pray for strength, for wisdom, for the ability to build up others through this, and I do, sometimes. But, what I also want is to not have to do any of this at all; surgery, chemo, exhaustion, losing my breasts and maybe my hair, starting menopause too early, I just don't want to do any of it. Then again, neither does anyone who has to deal with these things.
Thought I might have an answer at the end of the day. Guess I need to continue working on those prayers.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Deciding on the Double
My radiologist's office called today to let me know that my biopsy came back clean, but the nurse was quick to add that I would need to come back in 6 months and that any changes at that time would be biopsied as well. Both my radiologist and my surgeon told me the same thing last week.
Last Friday, I met with a woman who decided to do a double mastectomy after having chemo. Today, I received an email from a woman who opted for the double mastectomy even though her cancer was DCIS and she would not require radiation, chemo or any follow-up drug therapies; but her mother had breast cancer. In both cases, the women explained that it was the only way they would feel sure that the cancer was gone and that it eliminated the fear each time a mammogram was done that the cancer would appear in the saved breast. Both also made the point that after reconstruction, if only one side is done, you are left with one droopy, regular breast and one permanently perky breast. Point taken.
In my case, the cancer is already invasive and since there were no clean margins in my biopsy, they don't really know yet how much cancer is left on my right side. My surgeon and radiologist wanted a biopsy of the left side because there is a good deal of microcalcification present. After getting the "every six months" talk from three people, I get it. If I kept my left breast, I'd just be waiting for the cancer to come back.
So, tomorrow I'll call my surgeon and tell her it will be a double.
BTW, today is my wedding anniversary. We'll celebrate next year for sure.
Last Friday, I met with a woman who decided to do a double mastectomy after having chemo. Today, I received an email from a woman who opted for the double mastectomy even though her cancer was DCIS and she would not require radiation, chemo or any follow-up drug therapies; but her mother had breast cancer. In both cases, the women explained that it was the only way they would feel sure that the cancer was gone and that it eliminated the fear each time a mammogram was done that the cancer would appear in the saved breast. Both also made the point that after reconstruction, if only one side is done, you are left with one droopy, regular breast and one permanently perky breast. Point taken.
In my case, the cancer is already invasive and since there were no clean margins in my biopsy, they don't really know yet how much cancer is left on my right side. My surgeon and radiologist wanted a biopsy of the left side because there is a good deal of microcalcification present. After getting the "every six months" talk from three people, I get it. If I kept my left breast, I'd just be waiting for the cancer to come back.
So, tomorrow I'll call my surgeon and tell her it will be a double.
BTW, today is my wedding anniversary. We'll celebrate next year for sure.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Does it hurt?
Last evening, my brother-in-law asked me if I have any symptoms from the cancer. A completely legitimate question, but I had to reply that, except soreness from the two biopsies this month, there are no symptoms. In fact, I really won't have any physical symptoms of cancer until treatment begins. I've spoken to other women with breast cancer about this and they have had the same experience. It is the cure where the discomfort begins. A friend who has been spending her summer with chemo and radiation simply said to me, "Welcome to the sorority, the initiation is a bitch".
On Friday morning, I spent time interviewing a woman who is a year ahead of me in this process. I asked her how she dealt with telling her children, then 7 and 9, about her illness. She said initially she explained it much the same I way I already have to my girls, that mommy has a boo-boo in her breast and that the doctors are going to make mommy better by taking off the boo-boo and then making sure all the bad stuff is out of my body. It was during the chemo that she said the explanation started to falter. She'd summon up all her energy to tell her children that she was going to the doctor to get more of the good medicine to make her better, then she'd come home and get more weak and more tired, and bald and sick. Her oldest thought she should check to be sure the doctor knew what he was doing. She gave me the titles of two books that I'm going to find to try to help the girls through this, "The Year My Mother was Bald", by Ann Speltz and "Mom and the Polka-dot Boo Boo", by Eileen Sutherland.
I'll be meeting with my oncologist soon (just as an aside, before July, I barely ever saw a doctor, now I have a radiologist, surgeon and an oncologist?!). My hope is first, that she'll be able to help me deal definitively with the chemo question. And, if I do have to have it, then when would be most effective, before or after surgery. And second, I'd like to be able to come to some decision about reconstruction (add plastic surgeon to the list).
On Friday morning, I spent time interviewing a woman who is a year ahead of me in this process. I asked her how she dealt with telling her children, then 7 and 9, about her illness. She said initially she explained it much the same I way I already have to my girls, that mommy has a boo-boo in her breast and that the doctors are going to make mommy better by taking off the boo-boo and then making sure all the bad stuff is out of my body. It was during the chemo that she said the explanation started to falter. She'd summon up all her energy to tell her children that she was going to the doctor to get more of the good medicine to make her better, then she'd come home and get more weak and more tired, and bald and sick. Her oldest thought she should check to be sure the doctor knew what he was doing. She gave me the titles of two books that I'm going to find to try to help the girls through this, "The Year My Mother was Bald", by Ann Speltz and "Mom and the Polka-dot Boo Boo", by Eileen Sutherland.
I'll be meeting with my oncologist soon (just as an aside, before July, I barely ever saw a doctor, now I have a radiologist, surgeon and an oncologist?!). My hope is first, that she'll be able to help me deal definitively with the chemo question. And, if I do have to have it, then when would be most effective, before or after surgery. And second, I'd like to be able to come to some decision about reconstruction (add plastic surgeon to the list).
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