tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7678481394305981662024-02-07T04:44:40.608-05:00My Fight Against Triple Negative Breast Cancer<center><b>This is the story of my fight against TNBC, and my life <i>after</i> cancer treatment</b></center>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-8735036800421991252012-10-04T10:06:00.001-04:002012-10-04T10:08:00.603-04:00My excuseMy oh my, I have really neglected this blog by not posting for such a long time! But I have an excuse, a really good one! <br />I've been busy, you know. Really, really busy!!! Actually, I've been so busy I didn't even think about my three year cancerversary this March. I'm happy to report, though, that I am still NED now a whopping three and a half years after my TNBC diagnosis. Yay!<br />But it is more important than ever that I remain cancer free. Why, you ask? Because THIS is what (or should I say who?) has been keeping me busy:<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/10/04/628.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/10/04/s_628.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Yes, I've been very busy in a GOOD sort of way that has very little to do with TNBC. <br />Well, actually TNBC is the reason why I had to wait until the ripe old age of 42 to give birth to this little girl. TNBC is also the reason, why we had to put this little frosty (and her 11 siblings, 8 of which are no longer with us) on ice (well, liquid nitrogen, technically speaking) in 2009. it is also the reason why doctors would not let us thaw her out and get pregnant until 2011. <br />But this June, DH and I finally managed to become parents!!! We are so incredibly happy to welcome our little girl and feel privileged that we get to take care of her. <br />Isn't this a good excuse for neglecting the blog?<br />TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-71015497064773821152011-09-01T16:57:00.000-04:002011-09-01T16:57:37.603-04:00Ahead of my time...I haven't posted in a while, so I figured it's about time I wrote something again. So here go a few random thoughts.<br />
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Cancer-wise I continue to do well. As you can see on the counter on the top of this blog, I have now made it more than 900 days past my cancer diagnosis, and there is no evidence of disease of that pesky TNBC. Yipee!<br />
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Of course I cannot help following the medical literature to see what new and awesome things scientists have discovered (still hoping for a cure!). So just today, I ran into <a href="http://www.medpagetoday.com/HematologyOncology/BreastCancer/27633">this very interesting note/article</a> saying that scientists have now figured out a way of preventing early menopause and possibly premature ovarian failure in young women with breast cancer. Way to go! It just makes me feel that I am a bit too far ahead of my time...<br />
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<b><span style="background-color: white;"><u>Note to self</u></span></b>: Next time, be more reasonable and wait until ripe old age before contracting major disease. No need really to hurry and jump in prematurely, at a tender age, as I did. Now I only need to figure out how to get my body to listen to myself...<br />
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As I continue to adjust to my new post-cancer normal, I also follow along a select group of breast cancer blogs to see how those brave ladies are doing. Sadly, some of them have since died, while others have found out that their cancer not only recurred, but spread. One of them recently posted about a really poignant cartoon about cancer treatment, outlook, and prognosis. So here is my own take on it.<br />
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Despite all of the sympathy and support that I have received from so many of you (and thank you, thank you so much for that!), I have often had the feeling that despite your best intentions, others really cannot fully understand/appreciate the unique challenges of this "new post-cancer normal." Actually, I am very happy that you lack the experiences that would allow you have a first-hand insight into cancer life -- and I hope that it continues to remain that way. If you know first-hand, I'm very sorry for you. In any case, you blissful folks really should check out <a href="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/lanes.png">this cartoon</a> - careful though, it may be thought-provoking...<br />
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Are these enough random thoughts for you? Or at least random enough thoughts?TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-25026278056525792322011-04-06T19:10:00.000-04:002011-04-06T19:10:21.272-04:00All is well -- two years of NED!Well, I had this nice, long post all typed up -- and then my attempt to replace one word with another zapped it... So bye-bye to my original post. Here comes the shortened, second version.<br />
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The good news is that my post-surgery recovery continues to go well. No more allergy issues, just a good bit of fatigue and some pain still. Both are getting better, though. I took the doggie for a nice long walk today, so both of us can get back into shape. Now all I need to do is get over those pesky remnants of chemo brain...<br />
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I'm still not allowed to do any lifting or real workouts, so for the time being I continue to be limited in my physical abilities. Sorry, folks, no housework. Can I have a housecleaner, please?<br />
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I went to my six month regular checkup with the poison man this week. He was very happy with me, saying I was doing "as well as we could have hoped." That's excellent news: two years of NED!!! This is particularly critical with TNBC, as most recurrences/metastasis happens in the first two to three years. After five years, the recurrence rate for TNBC gals even drops way below that of other breast cancers. So NED so far is a very, very encouraging sign.<br />
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Still, there are a few open issues. The pathologist found "no evidence of prior biopsies" in the 390g of tissue that used to be my breast. I find that problematic, as I know I had two previous biopsies, both of which were marked with a 1-2 mm titanium clip. Shouldn't they have found those??? Well, after the two surgeons dismissed my worries, the poison man took me seriously and asked the pathologist to locate those clips. If they don't show up in the excised tissue, we'll go hunt for them inside my body. They'd better find them -- because, in the words of Woody Allen, "just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean that there is nobody after me!"<br />
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In the meantime, though, I am enjoying and celebrating that I am NED! May it stay that way for a long, long time to come...!!!TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-71051052186205249942011-03-26T22:12:00.001-04:002011-03-26T22:12:03.066-04:00Great weekWhat a great week this has been. Not only did my boob man remove my drain on Monday, which meant that I got to take my very first post-surgery shower on Wednesday morning, but on Friday I even had my stitches out. I am healing nicely! Better yet, on Thursday I went to the butcher for my post-surgery appointment with him and received a copy of the final pathology report. I am very happy to report that there was no evidence of malignancy evident in e removed tissue. Yay!!!<br /><br />Thus the only real complications so far came in the form of terribly itchy little bumps that appeared first on my left foob, near the burn mark from an electrocautery knife that miraculously appeared after the surgery, then around the former drain site, and finally around the actual scar. The boob man's PA initially thought it was a fungal infection brought on by bacitracin, but I noticed that those bumps appeared a while after they would put one of those fancy new non-stick gauze pads on me with this new, clear tape. So now it looks as though I am allergic titular newfangled pad things. Go figure, yet another allergy. Moisturizer, e occasional application of a topical antihistamine, and careful avoidance of the possible sources of this allergy have much improved the situation from angry red to flesh color. <br /><br />Another little issue arose around the center of my nipple (sorry if this is TMI, just skip the rest of this paragraph...) which apparently isn't getting enough blood. So it has necrotized/scabbed over, and apparently will fall off. While this has me feeling slightly alarmed, I have been able to control my anxiety until I see the final result. Overall, though, I am happy with the relative symmetry and general appearance of my boob man's handiwork. As of right now, my right foob still looks like it has approximately 100 ml more volume than my left one, but the surgeon assures me that this is due to residual swelling that ought to subside soon. <br /><br />Today is the first day that I have been off my hard-won prescription painkillers. Yippee! Only over the counter stuff is needed at this point. It's nice not to be 'doped up' any more... I never could understand the supposed thrill of those pills. I never did like them, except for the fact that they take away the pain. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't even consider taking them. So why are those docs <i>so</i> worried I might actually get addicted to those pills? It's not like I ever showed any signs of addiction during my seven previous surgeries. <br /><br />Well, anyway. I am very happy to report that this time around, recovery is much easier for me than it was the first time. this has been a great week for me as I have healed an regained quite a bit of strength, range of motion, and stamina. I have been out with my mom several times, met some work obligations, and spent some quality time with my mom. What a great week... Hope yours was equally good!<br /><br /><br /><br />TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-4060299700525776462011-03-17T21:00:00.001-04:002011-03-17T22:03:46.456-04:00The luxury of recovering at homeOh, what a joy and a luxury it is to be recovering at home! I am so glad to have escaped the noise and bustle of the hospital to recover in the comfort of my own home, under the tender, loving care of my mom and with the doggie curled up by my side. <br /><br />I have been healing nicely, with my pain pretty well controlled by medication most of e time. While the pain meds work, I feel pretty swell, actually. When it's about an hour until I get to take the next pain pill, though, I sometimes wish the wait weren't quite that long. Without pain medication I would be quite uncomfortable. So it's a good thing to have those little magic pills that make the pain vanish. <br /><br />Tis time around, the incisions seem to be much smaller than I expected them to be. They are healing nicely, although the presence of a surgical drain is always a bit uncomfortable. But it's tolerable. This morning the drain got clogged, though, and wouldn't reinflate after I stripped it. An hour's worth of milking and stripping later, the drain finally opened up again, and the serum color actually started changing from angry red to soothing pale straw. Sorry if this is TMI, but this color change is a good sign. Just in case you wanted to know...<br /><br />So I am feeling pretty good overall. My mom, the dog, and I went for a nice stroll along the beach promenade today. It was the first warm and sunny day and I enjoyed the warm breeze off the sea and the smell of the briny deep. I even had the energy to stop by the grocery store afterwards. That's not too shabby for being only three days post-surgery!<br /><br />The things that bother me the most at this point include the drain discomfort, tenderness at the site where the IV was, tenderness where some careless surgeon burned me with an electrocautery knife (two spots, one on my left foob and one on my left shoulder -- I'd really like to know how that happened...), and painkiller-related digestive discomfort. All in all these are relatively minor issues, though. I really cannot complain too much. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-236122592252002532011-03-15T22:45:00.001-04:002011-03-15T22:45:16.841-04:00I'm baaaack!Back home that is, ladies and gentlemen. As I had hoped, by Tuesday night the hospital was ready to send me home. Yes, apparently that is what too many wisecracks can do for a gal. <br /><br />Until this morning I had issues with nausea, but a timely dose of Zofran helped me get over that and I managed to keep down my morning oatmeal. From that moment on, I improved rapidly as my pump was once again primed and my body could take nourishment. <br /><br />Later in the day they took me off the Dilaudin pump, and also the saline since I could keep down liquids. Thus freed from my tethers I grabbed DH and together we enjoyed seven rounds of strolling around the entire general surgery station while making sure that as many nurses as possible observed my energy and feistiness. I spent the afternoon sitting with my mom, chatting and crocheting while waiting for the nurse to get the doctors to actually, physically sign off on thhe discharge they had promised me earlier in the morning (with the <i>caveat</i>, of course, that I had to be able to keep food down first...). By 6:30 the deed was finally done. I had done my teachback of emptying and "stripping" the surgical drain, reviewed my medication reconciliation sheet with the nurse, and received a parting gift of a pneumonia vaccine for good measure. <br /><br />And now I am happily back home again, where things are comfy and mercifully quiet, and where the dog comes to snuggle up with me. No more blood pressure, temperature and oxygenation level checks every four hours. No more open bedroom doors facing a brightly lit hallway. No more roommates that are taken to the room at midnight. No more last batch of IV antibiotics that clot up the vein. Just good, old-fashioned care and recovery at home. <br /><br />Thank you again to all of you who have helped carry me not only through my general cancer journey, but specifically this surgery on this big wave of love and support. I couldn't have done as well as I did without you!<br /><br />I haven't had the time nor energy to answer individual emails in the past few days -- sorry about that. As I am now recovering at home I hope to catch up with that email backlog soon, so please bear with me. I'll be baaack...<br /><br /><br /><br />TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-53572333894943123202011-03-15T08:31:00.000-04:002011-03-15T08:31:21.340-04:00Yipee, this may really be the last TNBC-related surgery!The news is all good. This really may be my eighth, and final final TNBC-related surgery. The nipple-sparing mastectomy part of the surgery went well, as did the immediate reconstruction. So this time around, I woke up with an even chest, not a terribly lopsided one. Hooray!<br />
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This time around, I also insisted on better pain control, which I eventually received. On the upside, I have no cramping and very little pain this time around. There is a downside, though, as the better pain meds make me pretty nauseous so that despite a mix of anti-nausea meds, I have not yet been able to keep down any food. I'm waiting for breakfast this morning and hoping that today's attempt at consuming food and actually metabolizing it will be more successful than yesterday's.<br />
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Yesterday afternoon I go up already and sat in a chair for a while. Since last night I've been walking to the bathroom (with a nurse present, for safety) when I needed to. I'm progressing well on that front and plan to go cruising the hallways today to become officially ambulatory.<br />
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The big goal is to be allowed to go home tonight. Other than my nausea, I am progressing well towards that goal, but unless I manage to keep down food, they will not let me go. So keep your fingers crossed...TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-39632826502105181442011-03-14T12:20:00.001-04:002011-03-14T12:20:14.281-04:00<font size=2 face="sans-serif">DH report,</font> <br> <br><font size=2 face="sans-serif">Both surgeries went fine! First, the oncologist came out after two hours to tell me that his part was finished and that the frozen sections (a rapid, initial test for cancer-like cells) was negative. Two hours later the plastic surgeon emerged to tell me that it appears that the reconstruction was completed today and that we won't need a follow-up surgery. When the patient is feeling up to it, she will add more effusive and enlightening comments.</font>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-52806400542375653212011-03-14T05:48:00.002-04:002011-03-15T12:40:45.310-04:00Mastectomy day is here!So we got up, I forget exactly when, but the technical term, I'm pretty sure, is "way before the crack of dawn" and drove to the hospital. As I am typing this, I am in the same day admitting waiting area and DH just came in after parking the car. We are all geared up and ready to go. <br />
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The last week has been a whirlwind of sorts, as I have been trying to get ready, get some spring cleaning done before I can no longer lift my arms, and tie up loose ends. My mom flew in on Saturday and has helped out tremendously already. But I've been very busy, so I haven't managed to reply to all those loving and supportive messages I have received. So let me say thank you here instead. I really, really appreciate the wonderful support from my awesome family and friends! Thank you SO much. I feel as though I am riding a big old wave of love and comfort into this surgery. This time around, the mastectomy has me nowhere near as nervous as the first time. <br />
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So soon it shall be my final goodbye to boob(s) -- and hello to all silicone!<br />
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DH will post the first post-surgery update, and I will follow up when I feel good enough. Thanks again for all of your kind and loving support. So here it goes... Peace and out.TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-19025024013769496452011-03-03T17:54:00.000-05:002011-03-03T17:54:09.255-05:00As we thought, pathology was benignThere is good, though expected, news regarding the pathology report from that fibroma I had removed two weeks ago. I received a call from the butcher today, informing me that not only was he able to remove the entire thing, but that it was benign as we thought. So that is good news all around, and certainly important news to receive! Yay, one more strange growth on my body turned out to be benign! It still makes me wonder, though, why my body is apparently so good at growing things that don't belong...<br />
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Anyway, next week I will have my various pre-surgical appointments for the prophylactic mastectomy on the 14th, so that will keep me busy. Besides, I have some stuff I want to wrap up before the surgery, as I know that I won't be able to do certain things for a while. Plus, since my mom is flying in next weekend to help take care of me for the first two weeks after surgery (DH will have to work, and work late, too), I have to get the house cleaned and ready for that. Yay for moms that swoop in to help out their kids! It's wonderful to have so much support... Thanks, mom!<br />
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So I'm gradually getting ready for the big surgery. I even have a mastectomy buddy this time around, fellow TNBC gal Julie who received her diagnosis just a few weeks ago and is scheduled for a double mastectomy the same day and time as I am (although hers will take place in an entirely different city). The idea is to stay in touch and give each other encouragement and support. Since this is my second mastectomy, I already have some experience with what is likely to happen and hope to be able to share some tips with Julie as we recover. If you feel so inclined, stop by Julie's blog at <a href="http://jdaudelin.blogspot.com/">http://jdaudelin.blogspot.com/</a> and drop her some words of encouragement as she proceeds through her TNBC journey.TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-16467749909014721012011-02-16T21:06:00.004-05:002011-02-19T10:40:53.322-05:00Quickie surgery updateThis is just a quick note to let you know that my little warm-up surgery this morning went fine. The butcher removed a fibroma from my ahem, derrière if you must know. Other than a little delay in the morning (not sure why that happened, but I was definitely there on time) everything went smoothly. I spent the day resting and am just about ready to turn in now, as we got up at five a.m. this morning. Needless to say I'm a bit tired. <br />
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For those of you who do not yet know, I call this my "warm-up surgery" because I have scheduled a prophylactic mastectomy for March 14. For one thing, I am tired of waiting for biopsies and their results. For another, due to my initial experience with core biopsies, which are essentially sampling procedures, and the false negative it produced (i.e., the pathology report claimed the lesion wasn't cancer when in reality it was -- they simply hadn't obtained a truly representative sample), I never quite fully trust their results. <br />
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What is even more important to me, though, is that a study that came out last year showed that while a prophylactic mastectomy of the unaffected breast doesn't provide any survival benefits for <i>most</i> cancer patients, women under 50 who had stage I or II estrogen receptor negative breast cancer (hey, that's <i>ME</i> all over) were the only subgroup that <i>did</i> benefit significantly, increasing their survival rate by almost five percentage points over five years. If you are interested, you can read the study <a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/02/100225164845.htm" target="_blank">here</a>. Anyway, increasing survival seems like a very good thing to me -- I'm greedy that way, you know! Plus, it seemed like the appropriate way to celebrate my two year cancerversary.<br />
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So my mind is made up, and the big surgery is scheduled. Just wanted to get this fibroma thing out of the way, first. The overwhelming odds are that this fibroma is just that, a benign (though somewhat annoying) growth that likes to afflict my delicate rear end. But the main thing is that it is gone now, meaning that I should soon be returning to my usual cheekiness. <br />
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Ok, I'll lay off the bad puns now, I promise. As I said, all is well here.TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-69196739487246470002011-01-10T17:52:00.002-05:002011-01-28T17:42:47.407-05:00The biopsy results are inToday my wait was finally over as the biopsy results are in. Assuming that the doctor obtained a <i>representative</i> sample during the procedure (and as I unfortunately know all too well, this could be an erroneous assumption), the news is good. The pathologist says the tissue shows only benign changes. I vaguely remember the nurse who called me saying something about "ductal stroma" and "hyperplasia" but with my chemo-battered brain's short term memory problems, I'm not sure until I see a copy of the written report. In any case, apparently the pathologist saw no signs of cancer in the sample, which is definitely a good thing. <br />
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Nonetheless, I am only guardedly optimistic, as I've heard this kind of thing before and it was a false negative back then. So I am still contemplating having a prophylactic mastectomy on the right side. I just don't know how many more false alarms and unnecessary biopsies I can take. Having long, thick needles shoved into very sensitive body parts just isn't <i>that</i> much fun for me, and neither is waiting for the biopsy. <br />
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But at least there is no urgent news for further surgery, and no other treatment imminent. I am very, very grateful for that!TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-14740810570562681382011-01-05T20:28:00.002-05:002011-02-17T15:14:44.982-05:00The fun just never ends...So I hadn't posted in a while, hoping that all that cancer stuff was slowly but surely behind me, despite the occasional scares and worries. But then, with cancer, the fun never <i>really</i> ends...and I sure got a reminder of that. <br />
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In late December, I went to my annual mammo and sono. The weekend before, I had noticed some tenderness in my one remaining boob, and felt a funny, hardened area when I checked out the sore spot. So I was sure to let the technicians and doctors know about it when I went for my routine appointment. The mammo came back clear. Initially, the soon looked clear, as well. But since <i>I</i> had noticed something there, the radiologist gave me a breast exam (though she couldn't feel anything abnormal) and checked the area with the ultrasound over and over. <br />
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Well, and if you check thing out thoroughly enough -- you guessed it! -- you eventually <i>find</i> something. In this particular case, a one centimeter suspicious mass. This, of course, meant that they immediately scheduled me for a core biopsy. Due to the holidays, the first available date I could get for that was today. Oh the fun wait over the holidays is just hard to describe.<br />
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Anyway, I went for my biopsy today and what fun it was. At first the radiologist tried an aspiration, just in case it was a cyst. It wasn't, so she moved on to the core biopsy. I was grateful that she numbed me up pretty thoroughly, but still it wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Apparently it was really close to the chest wall and tough to get to, so I had to reposition myself and roll over the examination table several times, all while they have some nice large needles shoved into my boob. Oh, did i mention that as soon as they were done shoving needles into me they noticed that i was nicely red and flushed? No crash cart this time, just a Benadryl and then it was off to the mammo confirming the placement of the clip that now marks the biopsy site, and finally a few extra minutes of observation with the nurse. As I said, the fun just never seems to end...<br />
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I am resting comfortably now, icing the sore area for about fifteen minutes every hour and taking it easy. <br />
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Now it's on to the post-biopsy wait, with results expected in 3-4 days. Since I assume we're talking <i>working</i> days here, I guess that means sometime early next week. Keep fingers crossed...!TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-30138085136383586572010-08-12T14:17:00.001-04:002010-08-12T14:17:52.734-04:00519 days later, a clean bill of healthToday, 519 days after I was first diagnosed with TNBC, I had another follow-up appointment with the butcher. I am happy to report, that it was a 45 second check-up that found me in the clear! No pains, no problems, NED!!! That's what I like to hear, that's what I would like to keep hearing in the future.<br />
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Only a few more months and I will have made it through those first two years post-diagnosis. Once I have successfully made that milestone, the poison man will let me thaw out some embies. Can't wait...TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-40423862835363580522010-07-22T10:34:00.005-04:002010-07-22T11:02:15.965-04:00New (out)look<p>Since it had been a while that I had posted anything, I thought this blog could use a new look. After all, my active treatment phase has been over for a while now (thank goodness!)... So I explored the new template design functions within blogger and gave my blog a global overhaul. What can I say -- I think I am moving beyond my "pink" phase in some ways. </p><p>This seems particularly appropriate since on July 20, I finally began the <em>very</em> last phase of my reconstruction process. This meant getting my very first tattoo -- or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tatone</span>, as I like to call it (since it is my <em>first one</em>; a second one might be called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tattwo</span>...). You may be tempted to think that I am crazy, getting inked and all. But not to worry, this is a medically approved, doctor-executed (thanks, Dr. K!), and insurance-paid (hopefully) part of my reconstruction. </p><p>Let me explain: During my mastectomy, the butcher removed not only all breast tissue, but also the nipple. It didn't have any signs of disease, but this a common precautionary practice. So during my last surgery (see my previous post), my boob man had to reconstruct a nipple with some skin he removed from my healthy breast during the lift procedure that made that boob match my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">foob</span>. So far so good. The only remaining issue was that the transplanted skin was much lighter than a real nipple, since it was <em>skin-colored</em> (duh!). Hence the need for tattooing, to make it darker so it looks like a real nipple-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">areola</span> complex. </p><p>So no, I did NOT get a "tramp stamp" or some other ink that I'll change my mind about in a few years and run to get it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">lasered</span> off. This is a <em>strictly medical </em>tattoo. It came out pretty nicely, only a tad darker than my healthy side. But my boob man said that the pigments fade a bit over time, anyway. So now I am really, <em>really</em> happy with my reconstruction, as it looks remarkably real. That was important to me, as it helps me move on with my life and put that whole breast cancer thing safely behind me. </p><p>It is so nice to be able to focus on <em>living</em>, rather than on being forced to concentrate on getting treatment! What a difference to one year ago. I know that I am lucky things have gone so well for me. I still follow quite a few blogs of fellow breast cancer survivors, not all of whom have been as lucky as I have. In recent weeks, some of those fellow survivors have had to face recurrences, or progression of their metastatic disease. Some other survivors have had to face diagnostic scares, which luckily ended up with benign findings in the end. </p><p>But such is the life of a cancer survivor: Even if I don't think about cancer most of the time, any unusual pain, lump, or bump triggers that deep-seated fear of recurrence, relapse, or even worse -- metastasis. After all, our future is even more uncertain than everyone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">else's</span>. In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">TNBC</span>, for instance, survival rates are lower than for any other type of breast cancer, and recurrences are particularly common in the first two years. So as I near the 500 days past diagnosis mark, I realize that I am not past those most critical two years yet, and really should not be thinking about thawing out any of those twelve little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">embies</span> we banked before my chemo. </p><p>Instead, I try to focus on living as best as I can. Part of that was that I went on a trip that I had long wanted to make: China! We spent three weeks there and came back with unforgettable memories (well, they <em>would</em> be unforgettable, that is, if it weren't for my residual chemo brain), thousands of pictures, and plenty of stories to tell. One more thing to check off my bucket list, then!</p><p>Now I can focus on what other things I want to put on my bucket list, so I can focus on living, enjoying relationships, and loving it all -- regardless of what the future may bring. I suppose this is what they mean by the "new normal"???</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-35045085395875836092010-03-30T11:39:00.002-04:002010-03-30T12:03:01.570-04:00Surgery #7 done!!!<p>Yesterday, I went into the ambulatory surgery center for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">TNBC</span>-related surgery #7. Wow, considering that before last March I had never had surgery under general anesthesia, I sure have come a long way in the past year with a total of seven such surgeries... I must admit I'm growing a bit weary of all that cutting-type stuff, though. Perhaps I don't want to be quite as much on the "cutting edge" in the future...<br /></p><p>In any case, my surgery yesterday was scheduled for noon. But then of course, surgeries later in the day almost always start a bit later than planned since previous surgeries run longer -- and yesterday's surgery was no exception. The delay wasn't that long, but still, it made it <em>that</em> much harder for the anesthesiologist to find a usable vein in my right hand since I'm so dehydrated and hungry after having been more than thirteen hours <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NPO</span>, that my tiny veins hide even more than usual. So the anesthesiologist decided to use a "volunteer" vein on the underside of my wrist with "just a little bee sting" of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lidocaine</span> to numb that sensitive area. I protested, telling her that last time someone did that I ended up with paralysis and all kinds of issues for weeks. But she didn't listen. Boy did that "little bee sting" hurt badly -- and when she had the IV in, it kept burning like crazy. I knew right away something was wrong. But they had just pushed my "milk of amnesia" to put me out, so I didn't find out what (if anything) they did about it. </p><p>When I came to in the post anesthesia-recovery unit, not only was I in pain, but nauseous to boot. So the nurse gave me some IV <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">zofran</span>, which burned like crazy. When I complained, she checked my line, and sure enough, my wrist was ballooning up as though I had an egg growing under my skin. Yikes, something had shifted and rather than go into my blood stream as they should, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">meds</span> were ending up in my soft tissues. Not good. The nurse had to call the anesthesiologist back out to check that IV line, and she decided to pull it. Ah, what a relief! </p><p>Some pain <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">meds</span> and quite a bit of waiting later, they moved me into a chair and called in DH to keep me company. The surgery had taken two hours, and I spent another two hours waking up before DH was allowed to see me, and then almost another two hours after that before I felt strong enough to go home. This was certainly one of the more nauseous recoveries from surgery that I have had... But I guess all those previous six surgeries and that little bit of poison to which I was treated last summer did leave their mark...</p><p>In any case, I'm glad this (hopefully) last reconstruction surgery is over. At this point, the nausea is much better, and the pain is reasonably well controlled with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">vicodin</span>. On Friday, I go see my boob man to have the stitches removed. Until then, unfortunately, only sponge baths for me... I'm looking forward to that first post-surgery shower -- always do! Sorry if this is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">TMI</span>...</p><p>Oh, I almost forgot: The funny thing was that while I was drifting in and out of sleep in the post-anesthesia recovery unit, all of sudden I saw my other surgeon, the butcher, walking around. He saw me, beamed at me, and said a quick hi. Oddly, once while I was recovering in that very same bay after having the surgery with him where he placed my chemo port, I happened to see my boob man walk by. When he saw me then and said hi, he examined my tissue expander and said it wasn't expanding right -- but not to worry he would replace it on Friday (it was a Tuesday then). Thus I was glad that my quick conversation with the butcher did <em>not</em> result in further surgery this week!</p><p>So surgery #7 is over, and all I need to do now is recover. I hope the last reconstructive touches came out nicely, so I can heal, move on, and have a reasonably realistic reconstruction of my old self. Let the healing begin!</p><p></p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-56897700498616755852010-03-12T17:46:00.002-05:002010-03-12T18:15:13.210-05:00One year later -- NED!<p>Yesterday I passed the one year mark of my cancer diagnosis -- and I am happy to say that I am NED. I'm doing well, feeling well, gradually growing my hair back, and trying to live as normal a life as possible. </p><p>Last week I actually needed my first haircut in over eight months. Mind you, the last "haircut" before that involved DH, and various scissors and razors and was really more of a shave than anything... So my hair is growing very slowly (it first began showing up again last September, even as I was finishing up my chemo), but surely. It even came back pretty much the same as before, just a good bit grayer.</p><p>On March 29 I hope to complete my cancer-necessitated reconstruction with my hopefully last cancer-related surgery. My boob man will lift my right boob to make it match my left <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">foob</span> better, and he will also use the excess skin he will remove from my right boob during the lift in order to create a nipple-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">areola</span> complex for my reconstructed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">foob</span>. I love it when I can get a twofer from a single surgery! Actually, I'm getting another touch-up while I'm under, as I have a little depression or divot above my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">foob</span>, where the butcher had removed breast tissue above up high on the chest, above where my implant now is. So he created an unsightly depression, which my boob man will fix with a "fat graft." So hopefully, after this last surgery, I will have a reasonably realistic and symmetric reconstruction -- and be done with surgeries for the foreseeable future!</p><p>I am most grateful, though, that I have made it through the first year since diagnosis without any evidence of residual or recurrent disease. For <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">TNBC</span>, this first year has one of the highest rates of distant recurrence (i.e., metastasis) of all kinds of breast cancer -- and it is associated with lower survival rates than other breast cancers (see <a href="http://clincancerres.aacrjournals.org/content/13/15/4429.full">this article</a> for details). So making it to the one year mark with NED is a good start. Now all I've got to do is stay healthy, continue to exercise, avoid beef and other red meats, and try to eat a low fat diet. All of those should further help keep the beast at bay. </p><p>But for the time being, I'm just happy to be alive and healthy!</p><p></p><p>P.S.: Since my last entry has apparently attracted some perverts who have used my cancer blog to post obscene comments in Japanese and Chinese, I have decided to enable comment moderation. I just don't want to give those people the opportunity to advertise their unsavory thoughts/sites on my blog. So it might now take a bit for legitimate comments to show up on the website, as I will review them first before posting -- please bear with me.</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-62950283448532871212010-01-01T23:25:00.005-05:002010-08-02T09:07:13.307-04:00Looking back on 2009 ...I cannot exactly say that I am sad to have the year 2009 firmly behind me, in the past. After all, it was not the most pleasant of years for me. Sure, I have many positive things to look back upon amongst the negative things that happened. I am very grateful for those positives. Still, I am very happy to leave the negatives behind me and move on, into what I hope will be a better future.<br />
The way DH and I had figured it, 2009 was destined to be a tough, but ultimately blissful year. We had begun, and made great progress, on a tough and somewhat uncertain path towards parenthood. Due to a congenital condition, we knew that it wouldn't be easy to get there. But we had started treatment with determination and cautious optimism. After a slow and disappointing start in 2008, by early 2009 a change of doctors to a world-renowned expert on our specific problem, and subsequent adjustments to the needed medications had worked miracles and put us in a good position to make our long-held dream come true. We were scheduled for a special IVF cycle in March, one of only four such cycles in any given year, that would hopefully get me pregnant. But of course, that's not exactly what happened...<br />
I do not think I have ever posted the entire story of how my cancer story began. So maybe today is a good day for that, as we're nearing an anniversary of sorts.<br />
Around first few days of the year, DH and I were relaxing at home, playing with the dog as we often do. Despite his advancing age, the dog still <i>loves</i> chasing his ball and will scale any obstacle while pursuing it. So we were sitting on the floor horsing around, when DH suddenly threw the ball over top of me. In blind pursuit, our little 20 lb. Schnauzer mix went after it. But rather than jump over me as DH had thought, the pooch jumped on <i>top</i> of my chest and pushed off from me in a giant leap after that ball. I screamed with pain -- it really hurt, as I was having problems with cysts, anyway. Plus, it would <i>never</i> feel good to have a twenty pound dog jump on your breasts, anyway. Those are sensitive body parts that do not react well to having such force exerted upon them. Anyway, my playful mood passed in a moment (as did the pain, a few seconds later) and I ended the gametime with an admonishment to DH never to tempt the doggie to jump over me like this again. Other than that, I thought nothing much of this incident until a few weeks later. <br />
This incident came back to my mind when the spot on my left breast where the little doggie paws had so forcefully pressed into my chest began to hurt a few weeks later. I could feel a hard, painful lump right in that same spot. Initially, I thought that it was just a big cyst like the ones I had previously developed. So I decided to wait until the end of my menstrual cycle and see if it would go away, as all those previous lumps. But this one was both bigger and more painful than previous lumps -- and it didn't go away at the end of my cycle. I was alarmed enough to see my ob/gyn promptly, but fairly sure that it would be just another cyst, or perhaps some fibrocystic changes like I had previously had. My doctor thought the same, but sent me for a diagnostic mammo and sono, just to be sure.<br />
I called for an appointment as I left my doctor's office, and the mammo place offered to squeeze me in that same afternoon when they heard that I was only 38 and that it was a diagnostic mammo, not just a routine screening. As a matter of fact, they told me to come right on over. So I did, and a little while later, they had squished my boobies between the paddles of the mammography machine. This was soon thereafter followed by a sonogram. The results weren't good. When the radiologist came in to review them with me, he seemed alarmed. Of course, it was probably nothing, but he insisted I schedule an ultrasound-guided biopsy right away -- just to be sure. So I did.<br />
Still, I wasn't that alarmed. I had had fibrocystic changes before, and they always had turned out benign. Actually, when I was twenty-five, I had a lump in my right breast aspirated in a fine-needle biopsy. The doctor told me after she was done with the procedure that she was fairly sure that this was cancer because it was firm and solid. My whole world came crashing down... Yet back then, the pathology report came back as benign fibrocystic changes necessitating nothing but regular ultrasound follow-up. So I was fairly confident that this would come out the same way, and tried not to worry too much.<br />
About a week later, I had the ultrasound-guided biopsy of this big old lump in my left breast. I remember the procedure itself as pretty awful, as the radiologist had to labor hard to get her huge vacuum-assisted needle into that hard lump. It hurt pretty badly, as the lidocaine works only superficially. She also did a fine needle aspiration of an axillary lymph node that was suspiciously enlarged. A few anxious days of waiting later, the pathology reports were back. First I received a call about the lymph node, which was clear. Finally, around seven p.m. when I had given up hope I would hear about the main pathology report that day, the radiologist called me. Much to her surprise, the lump, too, had come back benign with only fibrocystic changes and fat necrosis to report. Whew, what a relief! They urged me to get evaluated by a surgeon, though, just to be sure...<br />
So I did. I'm a good girl, you know, and actually do as I'm told -- most of the time, anyways. In this case, I knew I was scheduled for the IVF cycle a few weeks later, and did not want to risk <i>anything</i> in that long hoped-for pregnancy that would soon become a reality, I hoped. After initial trouble finding a breast surgeon in my insurance network, I found one. He had a really sweet secretary who squeezed me into his schedule (thank you!!!) after I explained my situation and the time constraints of our special IVF cycle. So I met with the man I came to call the butcher, and explained the dog-story, mammo and biopsy saga to him. His opinion was that it was unlikely to be malignant, but rather a result of the trauma from the dog jumping on me, and removing the big lump (which seemed to take up the upper inner quadrant of my breast by then, would leave a big hole, so he recommended to "wait and see." The rationale was that cancers do not shrink on their own, but fibrocystic changes eventually do.<br />
At any other time, I probably would have followed his advice, since I was neither particularly eager to have <i>any</i> surgery, nor to be left with a big old scar on my neckline and an ugly old crater in my chest. However, I was not about to wait this out and in the meantime -- finally -- get pregnant, just to find out in that delicate situation that this thing is growing after all -- or maybe even cancerous -- and needs to come out <i>during pregnancy</i>. So against the doctor's advice, I pushed the butcher to take the lump out. After all, I told him, you'd think they'd have the technology to fix those craters in this day and age... He told me oncological surgeons didn't, but that plastic surgeons might, and referred me to a colleague. This is how I met my boob man, who not only saw me right away, but also suggested that he could do a breast lift at the same time the butcher took out that lump, where he could fix the 'defect' the butcher would leave behind.<br />
On March 17, with just days to spare before the beginning of our IVF cycle, I went into surgery to have the lump removed and the crater fixed at the same time. This was to be my very first general anesthesia ever, so I was glad that I had a wonderful anesthesiologist, the sleep man, who was nice, caring, and funny, but also had experience with IVF (he and his wife had twins through IVF). But the morning of the surgery, during one last pre-operative examination the butcher felt that the lump had grown since the week before and got very nervous. He even wanted to nix the breast lift and cut right into the lump, effectively doing an old-fashioned surgical biopsy. The last-minute chaos was overwhelming. I didn't understand why they couldn't find out right in the OR whether this thing was cancer and how much of me they had to cut out. Thankfully, the boob man convinced the butcher to stick with the original approach with the prettier incisions, and let him fix the defect. I was <i>so</i> glad.<br />
They did the surgery, and as I was barely waking up, I saw the butcher and DH coming towards my bed in the recovery room. There wasn't much mincing of words: the intraoperative pathology consultation (ha! that <i>was</i> a possibility after all...) had shown that my worst fears had come true. This <i>was</i> cancer after all...<br />
It was awful news. However, I had had a few weeks to ponder and research the possibility of cancer and its implications, though, so to everyone's surprise -- not the least of which my own -- I immediately started telling the butcher that nobody was going to give me chemo or do anything else that might threaten my fertility before we had a chance to turn that IVF cycle into a fertility preservation cycle in which they would not implant any of the embryos, but merely freeze them for future use. DH was apparently quite impressed with how I started bossing the butcher around and telling him what I needed and what was important to me, even as I had barely woken up from anesthesia. People tell me I can be quite forceful and demanding sometimes...<br />
Anyway, this is how my cancer story began. Life hasn't been quite the same ever since. As you know, that cancer turned out to be a 3.1 cm by 2.5 cm by 2.5 cm lesion of triple negative invasive ductal carcinoma, a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer. I was very lucky that I insisted to have that lump removed right away, even as there seemed to be such a reasonable and "probably benign" explanation for it. If it hadn't been for that, who knows how long it would have been before I was properly diagnosed. In the meantime, that cancer might have grown further, spread, and done all other kinds of nasty things to me. This thing grew fast, so the sooner it was removed, the better. I'm one lucky pup I didn't listen to those doctors that time...<br />
Those of you who have been kind enough to follow my blog as I have progressed through my cancer journey know, that initial lumpectomy had positive margins and was followed by a mastectomy a few weeks later. Then came our IVF fertility preservation cycle, which produced those precious twelve frosties that are waiting for us in cryostorage. This, in turn, was followed by eight dose-dense cycles of grueling chemo -- and since last September, a gradual return to 'normalcy' (whatever that may be...).<br />
As you can see, I have been very lucky in this whole sordid TNBC tale. Reading over this story now that I have written it down for the first time, it sounds quite unbelievable, actually. As I went through my various treatments, I have further been unbelievably lucky in that I have experienced such great love and support from not only DH, my extended family, as well as friends both old and new as they have helped usher me through the inevitable highs and lows of my treatment. I feel very blessed and privileged to have such a wonderful support system -- and there were many times I needed it during this past year.<br />
Thus looking back onto the year 2009, I am full of gratitude for all those lucky and good things that have happened to me. Naturally, I am also a bit wistful, for the year did not bring us that baby we had hoped for due to this TNBC "bump on the road." Going through those six surgeries, the chemo, and my various hospitalizations has been difficult and challenging at times. But those tough times have also taught me to find greater strength inside myself than I ever thought possible. Yet I know very well that without the support and the many kindnesses so many people have shown me during the course of the last year, I could not have pulled through as I did. Thank you, all. It means much to me.<br />
Well, I am hoping that there will not be any more difficult chapters in this my TNBC story and that I will not have very much to write about other than how my recovery progresses (and my hair keeps growing back -- more about that soon). So let me wish you all a very happy, and most of all a very <i>healthy</i> 2010!!! May the new year be full of life, love, laughter, and happiness for all of us, and short on all those things that kept me blogging throughout 2009.TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-55069743163673546332009-12-17T21:39:00.004-05:002010-08-02T09:08:43.063-04:00In the clearToday was the day I had my first mammo and sono since the initial one back in January/February of this year that eventually led to my cancer diagnosis. Apparently I was supposed to have this done six months after the initial mammo, but nobody told me that. It wasn't until my oncologist mentioned something about this during my last visit with him in October, that it dawned on me that something had fallen by the wayside. Several pestering calls and reminders later, I finally got set up with orders for a diagnostic mammo and sono, and roughly four weeks later, with an appointment.<br />
Thus I went today to have my one remaining boob squished. At first everything went swimmingly. I got there at 1 p.m., a full half hour before the actual appointment, as requested by the diagnostic imaging center. They took care of me promptly, told me to walk on back, change, and have a seat. And only a few minutes later, at 1:15 -- i.e. a full fifteen minutes before my actual appointment date, they called me in for my squishing session. Yikes, it hurts to have your boob squished during the unfavorable part of your cycle (i.e. essentially from ovulation onwards), especially when you tend to develop plenty of cysts as I do. Anyway, the pain passes pretty quickly, thankfully, and I was able to lift my right arm as requested, despite the still fresh scar from the chemo port removal.<br />
They told me to go back to the overcrowded waiting room to await word from the radiologist that everything in my pictures looks good. So I waited, and waited, and waited. Clearly, the doctors were nowhere near as fast as the technicians. After about an hour or so, they told me that the mammo looked good and that all I needed to do was wait for the sono. So I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, ... and waited some more. Apparently, the sono was backed up quite a bit. This was starting to be a problem for me, since I had not yet had a chance to grab any lunch as I rushed to my appointment straight from work (thanks again to 2l for bailing me out early by taking on the remainder of my supervision duties!). At least they wheeled in the goodie cart with pretzels and cookies after a while, so I snacked a bit. But the wait in the crowded room was just getting far longer than I had bargained for. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got called for the sono.<br />
Of course the scan itself took another half eternity, as my breast apparently produces a cacophony of cysts, all of which need to be painstakingly compared to my previous scan. After the technician was done, I once again had to wait for the doctor to review the technician's findings. This time I was at least laying down on an exam table -- albeit only clad in an examination gown, my boob smeared with transducer gel, and scantily covered with towels.<br />
After a little eternity, the doctor came in and introduced herself. Turns out it was the radiologist who did my initial ultrasound-guided biopsy in my left breast that produced the specimen the pathology lab judged benign! She said that was strange, and that she hardly remembered my case when reading her old report... What an odd thing to tell me. I answered back that it <i>was</i> a strange thing and wondered how it could have happened -- given that the cancerous component was fairly big: 3.1 centimeters in its largest dimension! It seems that she should have been able to get a sampling of that, when guided by ultrasounds, at least. All she replied was that she didn't know how that could have happened, but that they pretty much knew from the mammo and sono that it had to be cancer. <br />
In all fairness, they <i>did</i> encourage me to see a surgeon after the pathology came back benign. However, based upon this benign pathology report, the surgeon recommended that we <b>observe</b> the lesion for a few months and see whether it grows or shrinks. Given how fast this thing was growing, waiting a few months would have been a very bad idea. On the Bloom Richardson scale of how aggressively a cancer has invaded healthy tissue, I got the high score of three. This thing had grown to well over an inch in a few short months. So really, waiting would have been a <i>very</i> bad idea ...<br />
You'd think that given these circumstances the radiologist, after reading these reports, would have offered some words of apology for missing the cancer. But you'd be wrong, of course. Nothing. Not a single word of regret from her. Nada. Niente. Zilch. Well, merry Christmas to you, too, lady! I'm just lucky that I'm still alive and can celebrate this holiday season. Had I relied on <i>your</i> handiwork for my diagnosis ... <br />
Anyway, after spending about four hours at the diagnostic imaging center I finally got a clean bill of health for my lone remaining natural boob. Looks like I'm in the clear this holiday season!TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-34548233699720462642009-12-11T20:17:00.003-05:002009-12-13T08:36:50.011-05:00Yippee!<p>This morning DH and I ventured out to the Ambulatory Surgery Center before the crack of dawn. My surgery was scheduled to take place at 8 a.m., which meant we had to be there by 7 a.m., which meant we had to leave by 6:30 a.m. So we were up by 5:30 a.m., braving the freezing temperatures on a dark winter morning. We got there right on schedule and I was called in after a short wait. </p><p>Unfortunately, I did not get my favorite sleep man as requested. Instead, my anesthesiologist was a short Russian woman, who was very nice. It took her two tries to find a usable vein, but then I could get my "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pina</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">colada</span>" so I could sleep through the hour and a half it took my two surgeons to free me of the chemo port, and swap out my tissue expander for the final silicone implant. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yipee</span>, I got an early Christmas present this year!</p><p>DH and I left the Ambulatory Surgery Center by 10:30 and were home a little after 11 a.m. Everything went quickly and smoothly, entirely without unpleasant surprises. The anti-nausea drugs did their job so well that I felt good enough to have potato salad for lunch (DH made it with the mayonnaise I made the day before -- not to worry, I used a pasteurized egg in the shell we found in a rural <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">midwestern</span> grocery store during a recent trip). For dinner I had hankerings for Thai food, so DH procured some Tam <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ka</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gai</span> and a red fisherman's curry. Spicy, but YUM!</p><p>The post-surgical pain is also manageable. It's almost 9 p.m. right now, and I've only had two <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">percoset</span> all day. Oddly, though, the side where the butcher removed my chemo port hurts more than the side where my boob man took out the tissue expander and inserted a 450 ml silicone implant! I bet that once again, the boob man's incision is equal in length or shorter than the one the butcher used to insert/remove my chemo port... Well, I suppose the pain difference may stem from more than the incision length, as the mastectomy removed the main nerves in that area. But anyway, implant exchanges like this don't seem to be a big deal. This is encouraging, as implants do not last forever and will need to be replaced in 15 years or so at the latest. </p><p>Thus I am feeling pretty good. I took a nice long nap this afternoon to catch up on the sleep I missed this morning. As you can see above, my appetite is good. I am glad to be rid of the chemo port and to finally have my silicone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">foob</span>, not the hard "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">turtleshell</span>" tissue expander. </p><p>I haven't seen the results yet, as I am securely locked into one of those awful post-surgical bras, but I gently poked the side of my new silicone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">foob</span>. I was <em>very</em> happy to find that it feels considerably softer and more natural than the saline-filled tissue expander. Supposedly, since this is a regular round implant, whereas the tissue expander was more anatomically shaped, this implant will also have less upper quadrant fullness. This means it should look more like my natural right, not-so-youthful-any-more boob. Apparently it will take two months or so for the implant to drop down and settle into its final position. As a consequence, it will be at least two to three months before I can contemplate the final step towards reconstruction, i.e. nipple reconstruction and possibly a lift on the right side (with a small implant if needed to achieve symmetry in the upper quadrant). </p><p>But that is all next year. For right now, I'm just glad to have conquered another step on the long road to reconstruction. I won't have to go to work on Monday, so that I can have sufficient time to recuperate from the surgery. Come Tuesday I plan to be back in the fray, though, as the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pre</span>-holiday time is always entirely crazy at work. So I'd better get my strength back fast!</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-77720547471659137692009-11-23T22:15:00.006-05:002009-11-30T14:34:29.637-05:00More surgery = good riddance!<p>I finally have a date for the surgery during which the butcher will remove my chemo port, and the boob man will remove my tissue expander and replace it with the final silicone implant. Yay! So December 11 will be the big day that will bring me one big step closer to completing reconstruction and putting that whole cancer thing behind me. Well, as much as one can <em>ever</em> put that whole cancer thing behind oneself, that is...</p><p>Both the tissue expander and the chemo port have been bugging me, as they often get in the way of doing things. For instance, when DH and I work out, I can really feel both of these foreign bodies inside of me. So when I do pushups, let's say, I get quite uncomfortable after approximately ten to twelve "girly" pushups (i.e. those where you keep the knees on the floor" -- long before my pectoralis muscles actually fail as they are supposed. Back in my pre-cancer days, I used to be able to do twenty <em>guy</em> pushups before coming to failure...</p><p>I am hoping that with one of these foreign bodies removed from me, and the other one exchanged for a soft and pliable silicone implant, I will be a lot more comfortable in the long term. </p><p>While I am fully aware of the fact that I'll never get my boob back, at least the silicone should provide a much more natural feel than the current saline-filled tissue expander. Plus, I am starting to feel as though I might be starting to develop another blood clot around the chemo port, as I have been feeling a strange fullness once again starting to develop in my right clavicle area. So I cannot wait to get rid of the port -- and with it hopefully all need for administration of cytotoxic agents. Good riddance!</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-89967913442381670482009-11-13T18:44:00.003-05:002009-11-14T08:37:17.697-05:00Got my shot!<p>Today I finally got my H1N1 vaccine. Man are those shots hard to get -- but thankfully my employer got an allotment and distributed it to at-risk employees such as myself. So in a two weeks or so my body should have developed immunity to that particular flu strain. </p><p>This was my first experience with "needle-less" vaccination. While the lack of a needle sounds good in principle, I cannot say that I am that excited at seeing the vaccination in practice. The difference between the needle-less and the needle-based approach is that needle-less vaccination are injected into the muscle with the help of air pressure, rather than through a needle. Don't get me wrong -- I am NOT a fan of needles and firmly believe that the human body is not meant to have sharp objects stuck into it. But the high-pressure medication stream that the vaccination gun injected into me -- courtesy of considerable pressure generated by a CO2 cartridge similar to the ones I have for my whip-it cream whipper -- was actually <em>more</em> painful and left a <em>bigger</em> wound than a traditional needle-based vaccine administration. To top it off, the surly nurse that administered the shot apparently suffered from poor eyesight, as she put the band-aid <em>next to</em> the actual injection site, rather than over top of it. The shot produced some bleeding, so it promptly messed up my my shirt a bit. Thankfully I wore black...</p><p>But I still consider Friday the thirteenth to be my lucky day. After all, I finally did get access to the H1N1 vaccine -- and I am grateful for that!</p><p>Other than that I am feeling much better, even if stress at work really wore me out these past two weeks. I still have a bit of tingling in my hands and feet, but it keeps getting better. </p><p>My boob man and the butcher are in the process of scheduling another surgery for me, as I want to have the tissue expander replaced with the final silicone implant, and have the butcher remove the chemo port during the same surgery. While I am under general anesthesia, they might as well take care of several things at once. You've gotta like a good old-fashioned twofer...</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-67035643652288865902009-11-08T21:05:00.004-05:002009-11-09T17:40:38.330-05:00Shooting for swine flu?<p>Well, actually not quite. I have been shooting for trying to <em>avoid</em> the swine flu that seems to be going around all over the place. DH and I already had our first cold of the season, although it came mightily early. DH picked it up at work and brought it home, and I got it a while later -- despite my efforts at handwashing etc. We were both sick for quite a while, but luckily neither of us ever developed a fever or anything. </p><p>In any case, when I last saw the poison man, my blood values still weren't back up to normal. While I did have <em>enough</em> infection-fighting neutrophils to not count as neutropenic, my overall white cell counts are still a bit low and I probably am more susceptible to the various bugs out there than I used to be before my biweekly poison administrations. Thus the poison man suggested that I get the swine flu shot once it becomes available. The odd thing is, however, that even though the hospital system to which my cancer center belongs has already received at least part of its allotment of H1N1 vaccine, the cancer center has yet to receive any vaccine doses!</p><p>So I have been calling them to find out when they'll get it, as there is no target date yet. My local primary care physician did not receive any vaccine yet, nor did any of the local clinics or pharmacies. But I really want the shot, partially because I'm still immunocompromised, but also because I work with a lot of young people that are at highest risk for contracting and spreading the swine flu. So this Friday, I finally found access to the vaccine, and placed my call to reserve a slot and a shot within five minutes of receiving the email. Luckily my employer has received an allotment of vaccine, and is offering it to at-risk employees. So next Friday, the thirteenth of November, I am scheduled to finally get that swine flu shot. I've always though of Friday the thirteenth as a particularly lucky day...!</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-85943183343661384612009-10-31T10:19:00.003-04:002009-11-01T07:32:12.050-05:00Congratulations to a little batty and her littlest batty!<p>I had been following the blog of a fellow cancer patient, a little batty in the Emerald city who had been diagnosed with stage IV cancer a few years ago, when she was only 25 years old. Earlier this year, she found out that -- much to her surprise -- she was pregnant. But despite the chemo and some tests she had received while pregnant but before she knew she was, her pregnancy was progressing well. Her continued need for chemo caused some problems during the pregnancy, but overall everything went remarkably well. </p><p>Yesterday, I finally saw her latest blog entry, the one I had been waiting for since hearing that her doctors had decided to induce labor a bit early, on October 23: Her littlest batty, Anya, was born safely on October 23, 2009. I think this is more than a little miracle!!! So please join me in congratulating Kim, her husband, and their families on the birth of Anya!</p><p>You can find Kim's blog entry on Anya's birth <a href="http://sonarbat.blogspot.com/2009/10/anya-has-arrived.html">here</a>. Go visit it to congratulate them yourself!</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767848139430598166.post-12185760171933941782009-10-26T23:23:00.006-04:002009-10-27T19:19:39.204-04:00Late at night, the poison man called<p>I know it's been a long time since I posted. The good news is, that during this time I haven't had to do much fighting of that nasty triple negative breast cancer. While I still feel the effects of the chemical warfare the chemo has been waging inside me, I spent the last few weeks gradually getting back to the kinds of things I used to do in my life <em>before</em> cancer, i.e. working, cooking, exercising and more. This kind of stuff was so ordinary, that it would have been boring to blog about -- and so I didn't. It was a nice relief not to have anything worthwhile blogging about. Come to think of it, for a cancer-related blogs, boring is a very good thing -- at least for the cancer patients! Thus I'm happy to not be reporting on my egregiously boring life at this time. After all, I can never be sure how long such boring times may last.</p><p>This past week and a half brought more news worth reporting, though, as it began with my first post-chemo checkup with my poison man. As always, DH accompanied me on my trip to Dr. V's office at the cancer center. Having had a lucid moment, I had scheduled my doctor's appointment right after a port flush appointment (this needs to be done ever 4-6 weeks if the port is not being used), so they could draw the considerable amounts of blood needed for tumor marker tests, chem panels, and all the other tests I was supposed to take. Then, I went to see Dr. V -- and barraged the poor man with all kinds of questions regarding where we go from here, and how I can/should live my post-chemo life. </p><p>As expected, he would prefer that we wait another year and a half before thawing out any of our dozen little frosties in an attempt to get pregnant. It takes roughly a year for the effect of the chemo drugs to wear off entirely -- and for TNBC the risk of recurrence is highest in the first two years after diagnosis. So in order not to harm any baby with chemicals, nor to have a baby just to turn it into a half-orphan shortly thereafter, it seems advisable to wait a while. As far as everything else is concerned, he recommended that I stick with a low-fat diet (with only about 20% of daily calories from fat), as it has been shown to reduce the risk of recurrence by about half. Beyond that, he mentioned that there is an ongoing study in which an osteoporosis drug is administered by IV once every six months as there is reason to believe this drug may also prevent breast cancer recurrences. Once the study begins recruiting again Dr. V's office will call me to see whether I might like to participate. So far so good. </p><p>The other thing I asked about was to get the chemo port removed while my boob man exchanges the tissue expander for the permanent silicone implant. I want to get rid of my frankenboob and get a step closer towards final reconstruction. After all, the implant will need to settle for a while before they can fix the other side to even things out on that end of things. And while they have me under, I figured they might as well yank the chemo port out of me before I develop some more fancy blood clots around it. </p><p>But before the poison man would give me permission to have the port taken out, he insisted on a few more scans -- just to be sure. After all, during my August hospital stay a chest CAT scan had shown some "ground glass opacities" that needed to be followed up on as they could represent many things, including lung metastases. Furthermore, I had never had a bone scan to see whether anything funky had gotten into my bones. So the good doctor sent me to get both of those scans taken care of before I schedule the surgery. </p><p>So last Friday, I went for a fun day of getting poked, prodded, and scanned at the Cancer Center. Yipee -- so much fun to have be needled again, and shoved into huge machines in which the camera with the big bull's eye type hatchmark on the cover comes to within an inch of my nose. This sort of stuff is always extra fun for a gal like me, who tends to have twinges of claustrophobia on occasion... But luckily some deep breathing got me through it all. </p><p>Of course the weekend required more deep breathing, as during our workout I noticed a sore spot on my ribs. And naturally, the funny way in which the brains of cancer survivors work meant that I immediately began worrying a bit that this may be a bone met on my ribs. Why else would that funny little spot be hurting? Well, I didn't <em>really</em> think that -- or at least not constantly, but there always is that little nagging voice inside that whispers "what if this <em>is</em> a bone met and you're now officially stage IV?" Not a pleasant thought for any cancer survivor, but one that brings up particularly dark visions of an imminent demise for TNBC gals, who tend to do very, very poorly once they're stage IV. </p><p>This weekend brought a big rainstorm on Saturday, but a stunningly beautiful Indian Summer Sunday. So I suggested to DH that we take a daytrip up the river to enjoy the last of the colorful fall foliage. And so we did, having a grand old time exploring places neither of us had ever visited before. The leaves and the weather were absolutely gorgeous and DH and I enjoyed the trip so much that we vowed to go on similar excursions again in the near future. Plus, this was a very beautiful way of keeping busy in a positive sense and recharging our batteries. This kind of stuff keeps my mind from straying too much in dangerous directions...</p><p>Today I could finally call in for my test results. But of course, Dr. V is a very busy man, so I had to leave a message. Tonight he finally called back at 11 p.m., which oddly enough is not at all an unusual time for him to respond to my messages. (You've got to love a dedicated oncologist who works this late.) In any case, despite the late hour, the poison man had excellent news to share: both my chest CAT scan and my bone scan were clear! Yay!!! So I can go ahead and schedule my next surgery. "You're doing good" Dr. V said. I like hearing that...because it means my life gets to stay as boring as it has been these past few weeks. And that is most excellent news worth reporting: that I do not anticipate I'll have terribly much news anytime soon.</p>TNBCAmazonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07871324449517552676noreply@blogger.com3