Family pictures in front of the flower cross at church are an annual tradition for so many, our family included.  After surgery it was hard to tie the scarf behind my head, and it’s starting to warm up, so I’ve decided to give up on head covering and just go bald.  My hair is starting to grow back, though it’s so light that it’s still pretty hard to see.  We had a great a day with Clay’s parents and friends who invited us to have lunch with them.  And how could you not have a blast with such a lovely little girl and crazy little guy?

I emailed my oncologist earlier this week with a request I knew she would deny. Can’t hurt to ask, right? I wanted to go to the Tumor Board meeting since it seemed as though there were several very educated people on both sides of the radiation decision, and I had often attended these kinds of meetings in graduate school. I wanted to hear everyone’s position, but I knew it was very unlikely a patient would be permitted to attend. I simply asked if it would be possible, but told her that I would completely understand if it were not. She is such a kind and intuitive physician, she read between the lines knowing exactly why I wanted to be there. So, even though it was her day off, she got on the phone with the radiation oncologist (one of the two suggesting treatment) and talked through all the details and nuances of my case. They discussed the scans, my history, all the pathology… In the end, he agreed with her that no post-mastectomy radiation is warranted. And the greatest thing about my sweet doctor? She immediately called me and told me the good news! We chatted for fifteen or twenty minutes– some about my recovery from surgery and future care, but we also chatted about her pregnancy and transitioning back and forth between the workforce and staying at home with kiddos. From her high heel boots to her compassion to her apparent vehement insistence that I receive proper care and information in a timely manner (she mentioned some people were tired of hearing from her regarding me!), I know we would have been friends had we met under different circumstances. In fact, I think we are friends even despite the circumstances.

As much as I like her, I’m happy to report that I don’t HAVE to see her for six months! I may try to get in touch with her office this summer to get a baby gift to her, but otherwise, my first cancer related follow up will be in the fall. I’ll still be seeing a lot of my plastic surgeon, who is also a phenomenal physician in addition to having a compassionate personality. I’ve still got some healing to do, but have been able to cut down on the narcotics and am starting some of my range of motion exercises. Can’t lift much, but at least I can turn the Keurig on by myself now!

And so this is it, I guess. I’m cancer free. I have no more significant treatment. My hair is starting to fill in (though I still look bald unless you look really close), and I’ve even got some (pathetically) short eyelashes. The false ones will still be making an appearance for a while! I’m not normal yet, but I’m on the road to normal. It’s really close. And while good news still feels a little hard to believe, I’m starting to get used to it. I’m moving from contained excitement to just plain excited!

So I know that everyone was THRILLED with the “cancer free” pathology report last week. Lots of people even cried with joy. I didn’t. I guess it sounded too good to be true– too easy. Which is ridiculous, I know. Sixteen weeks of chemo, no hair, double mastectomy– that’s easy? Oh, and the day I got home from the hospital, to add insult to injury, almost all of my eyelashes and eyebrows fell out. Perfect. So that doesn’t sound easy, I know. But really, it still has been so much more bearable than I’d expected, and after so much bad news, I think it’s hard to believe the good.

And so I went to all three appointments last week with contained excitement. All of my doctors were so pleased with the pathology reports– zero of eight lymph nodes were positive, so that’s a good sampling and a great result. No cancer left in any of the breast tissue removed– only scarring where the original tumor was located. The downside (why did I know that was coming) is that two of my four doctors think radiation is not necessary based on the fact that all the margins were clean and there was no evidence of cancer in the lymph nodes. But the other two recommend radiation based on the aggressive nature of the original tumor. Which means that on Thursday I will yet again be the subject of the Tumor Board, where my four doctors will discuss me all in the same room in the company of their fellow Oncology Department colleagues to come up with a recommendation for me. So a few prayer requests– that the doctors will make a wise decision concerning my care, and that I will make a wise decision based on their recommendation. Obviously, if they can’t agree 100%, then there is room for me to make a decision, and I want to make the right one.

When you head to the hospital to have a baby, there are about a million different checklists in books and online telling you everything you need to take with you.  There are so many things you should remember that it’s a bit overwhelming, and no matter how many I consulted, I ended up missing something.  And taking way too much that I never used.  So this time when I headed to the hospital for my mastectomy, I made up my own list, and while I didn’t obsess over it, I did pretty well.  I knew that Clay would be heading home for the night to take care of the kids, so my I wanted to be able to be as independent as possible.  Here are a few things worth remembering:

• Phone
• Extra long phone charging cord—I wanted my cord to reach the little table by the bed so that I wouldn’t have to reach to plug it in or retrieve it while it was charging.
• Hands free headset for phone—I didn’t want to have to hold my phone if I wanted to chat—came in handy for late night phone calls when I finally got out of surgery.
• Pen and notepad—It was a great place to write down questions that I wanted to ask the doctor or nurse later.
• Snacks—Hospital food is notoriously not so great, and just getting a snack isn’t always quick (even if you have someone to run out for it) or easy.  I stocked up on a few different favorites: plain pringles if I wanted something salty, twizzlers if I was craving sweet, and these chocolate covered cherries that I scored from Trader Joe’s for a special treat.  And for the record, when they gave me the go-ahead for solid food, the pringles tasted so much better than the saltines the nurse brought me.
• Clothing—I didn’t think that I’d want to hang out in the hospital gown any longer than they made me, so I wanted to be sure to have something to put on.  I took two full changes of clothes—in case I could change after surgery and something else for the morning.  Obviously, stretchy pants are easiest to get on, so I went with the standard black yoga pants.  (For a splurge, try the Kick Booty pants from Athleta.  Spendy but fabulous.)  I knew that my top would need to be loose fitting (has to go over three drains that hang around your abdomen), lightweight (hot flashes), and something that didn’t need to go over my head (post surgery pain).  I have a lightweight hoodie that worked perfectly.  It’s gotten a lot of wear post-surgery!
• Makeup—I know it may seem crazy to some, but I’m a firm believer that I feel healthier and better about myself if I take a little time to make myself look better.  So I took along some makeup essentials (brow gel, mascara, concealer, blush, lip gloss).  Even if you don’t care about makeup, take your good moisturizer, nothing feels better after washing your face.
• Lip balm—whether or not you go the lip gloss route, a good lip balm is a must, my lips got so dry after surgery.  This Sugar Lip Treatment is my current favorite, Kiehl’s Lip Balm #1 is a close second.
• Lotion—same as above, nothing feels better on dry skin than nourishing lotion.
• Bag—take a bigger bag than you think you’ll need.  They’ll load you down before you leave the hospital, I took home an extra compression bra, gloves and alcohol swabs for emptying the drains, and bunches of absorbent pads in case I needed to change any dressings.  They gave me all the normal discharge papers, in addition to bunches of brochures about support groups and helpful products.  Then there were gifts—from the hospital and friends who’d stopped by while I was in surgery—and flowers.

I probably could have gotten by without a lot of this, but it really did make me feel so much better to have the things I wanted on hand.  Before Clay left for the night, I had him get everything out of my bag that I thought I’d need before morning and I made it through the night without incident.  When they woke me in the morning to take my vitals, I washed my face, got changed, and put on my makeup in the little mirror that’s in the tray of the bedside table.  Just that simple action made me feel so much fresher and a little closer to normal.  And those pre-breakfast pringles never tasted so good.

Truthfully, I guess it’s not so long awaited.  Less than a week after surgery the nurse from my surgeon’s office called to tell me about the pathology report.  Complete pathologic response.  Ummm?  So many questions I wanted to ask.  I guess the fact that the nurse called and not the doctor means that it’s good news that requires no explanation.  But somehow good news is just a little tough to hear at this point, so unexpected, so strange really.  I’m sure it surprised no one I know well when the first thing I did after hanging up was email my oncologist.  Thankfully, she’s super sweet and quick to reply and so within a few minutes I had the news—no cancer in any of the removed tissue and presumably no cancer left anywhere in my body.  But I’m looking forward to sitting down with all my doctors next week—I’m hoping that this means that I won’t need any more treatment, but want to hear it from them before I celebrate.

My last run for a while, and somehow my little iPod shuffle knew exactly what I needed.  Just when I was really forcing myself to push through, it shuffled to “I will Survive” by Cake. I finished strong, and I will survive! Until next time, trails. I look forward to meeting again!

Best question on a medical form ever.

Just about a week away—time really does pass so quickly.  I was pretty upset when my surgery was rescheduled to mid-March.  That two week delay felt like a big deal, I didn’t want to wait all that extra time.  Truth be told, it was a good thing.   I had hoped to finish chemo and then be back to normal two weeks later, by the time I would have normally headed back in for another infusion.  The effects of chemo are cumulative, though, and so I’ve needed that extra time.  That last round really took a lot more energy out of me.  The achiness and bone pain weren’t quite as bad, but man, have I been tired.  Plus, we have a big nine year old birthday party this weekend, and then I need to have everything ready to celebrate her big day with family, her classroom, and her bus stop friends on her actual birthday, so there’s a lot of planning, purchasing, and baking that I need to do before surgery.  Those extra two weeks have been a surprise blessing.

I’ll head to the hospital early on Wednesday the 13th, there are several pre-op procedures that I need to do.  There’s still that one pesky lymph node that lit up on my PET scan but no on has been able to find since.  So I’ll start off my morning in nuclear medicine for a CT scan/localization of that node.  The head of the women’s imaging will be doing the procedure himself to make sure they can find the node in question and remove it as part of the surgery.  They’ll also Inject some sort of dye (technical, I know!) that will help them find the sentinel lymph nodes—those are are the first lymph nodes that filter the lymph fluid from the breast.  If the sentinel (first) lymph nodes don’t have any cancer cells in them, then it’s pretty safe to assume that the cancer didn’t travel beyond the breast.  After all the pre-op procedures and doctor’s visits, I should head back for surgery around noon.  I expect to be awake (and very hungry!) around dinner time.  I’ll stay in the hospital overnight and will come home around lunchtime on Thursday.

I spent almost an hour this morning with a physical therapist at the recommendation of my plastic surgeon.  It was a great appointment, very informative, and the physical therapist was such a delightful woman.  Someone from her department will stop by the morning after surgery to chat with me and give me some tips and exercises.  I’m so glad she met with me ahead of time, though, so I don’t have to try to process and remember all that information while I’m sore, sleepy, and drugged!  For the first two weeks, I’m not supposed to lift my arms above shoulder level and I’m not even supposed to carry my own purse.  After two weeks, I can start working on increasing my range of motion but I’m still not supposed to lift anything over five or ten pounds.  After six weeks I’ll be free of any restrictions and can finally go for a run, but I will still have to work to slowly increase my flexibility and strength.  Both she and my plastic surgeon have really encouraged me that I should not be just sitting around with my arms at my side.  I need to walk around and try to act as normally as one can within the limits they’ve given me.   The confidence this appointment has given me is invaluable.  I’m not afraid of overdoing it and hurting myself, and I know the importance of staying “active.”  She said it might take a year to get back to where I am right now, but that there won’t have to be a “new normal.”  I’ll just be normal.

Of course, I’m apprehensive, but I’m looking forward to surgery next week.  Mostly, I’m looking forward to putting all this behind me.  I’m ready to start the slow road to normal, and to see what steps will be next.  Spending a couple weeks unable to drive, lift my purse, or even pour a full gallon of milk will be tough.  But I’ll have lots of support and am looking forward to hanging out and passing the time with friends and family.  And so with just a week remaining, I have a few more things to squeeze in.  There are lists to make, shopping to do, bags to pack, and I’m hoping to get in another run or two before I take a hiatus.  This will be a busy, fun week!

It’s a personal thing, I know everyone is different.  Some people really treasure their alone time.  Those people probably wouldn’t want to deal with a cancer diagnosis in the same way I have.  But me, I’m a people person.  The last thing I wanted to do was sit at home—giving myself time to get angry or depressed, perfectly reasonable reactions.  I want to have fun, to chat, to be around people.  Over the past few months, I have treasured every friend who has taken the time to meet me for coffee or lunch, to go for a run or a walk, and to shop—be it at a thrift store, Nordstrom, or even just a Target run. I’ve had the best time with all my friends, but there is one bonus I’d have never expected.  I meet the friendliest people when I’m bald!  My hat usually ends up coming off during or immediately after a run, and occasionally when I’m shopping, too.  I’ll be so impressed with all the big smiles and friendly waves I get, and then I remember that I’m bald.  The older ladies are the sweetest, and so many freely share their experiences of cancer with me, a complete stranger.  The preschoolers are fun, too.  Some of them are a little put off by my bald head, but are surprisingly honest.  The ones I know always ask the same thing—“Why aren’t you wearing your hat?”  When I tell them my head was hot, they usually run off smiling, pleased with the answer.  The really little ones have been a tiny bit afraid of my bald head, but they warm up fast—and soon treat me the same as they always did.  There is one cutie at the bus stop, though, who never paid much attention to me before, but once I stopped wearing my hat, she became my best bud!  She was very curious, but I let her rub my fuzzy head and always answered with a smile, and that was all she needed.  I’m sure that there are people who have seen me and felt sorry for me, but no one has ever treated me with pity.  Somehow good lipstick and a smile go along way, and no matter how much someone may have wanted to pity me, it’s hard not to return a genuine smile.