"Just a Stuffy Bra!"

Ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, HER2 positive, I have proclaimed that if all possible, both of my breast would eventually be history.  With the first one being removed as a "given," I then sat out on a mission to have the "other one" eradicated.  With instructions from my doctor on what I would have to do, I began.  First, I was to pray really hard about my decision.  Done.  Secondly, I would need clearance from my insurance company.  Done.  Next I was to have a mammogram and be cleared of all monkey business that may be going on in it.  Done.  Finally, I was given the go ahead.  Tuesday, August 5th, was the long awaited date which came very quickly I must say.  An early surgery was scheduled.  Lying in the room awaiting my doctor to come by, I could hear next door, the voice of a familiar local sportscaster, awaiting his knee surgery.  This gave me a little excitement and took my mind off me and focused on his dilemma until I was rolled away.  The surgery was easy and everything went as routine.  A stay overnight and then I was homebound.  Six days prior to my surgery, my husband came down with a case of appendicitis, warranting a stay in the hospital for him and several weeks of recovery.  I can't say which one of us has been the patient and which one the nurse.  I am just thankful for all being as uneventful as it has been so far.  I told my husband that I needed to type a short blog on my mastectomy, and he replied that hopefully this would be my last.  I truly hope this is true.  We have been so blessed this past year, with the hand of God permanently planted in our goings and comings.  I sometimes wonder, who I would be today, had it not been for breast cancer.  I only know that I would never have prayed as much, thanked as much, loved as much and yes, laughed as much as I would have, if  "life" had not happened.  As I have stated before, cancer has changed me forever.  There is no pity here, only a feeling of being blessed.  I have traded a stuffy bra, for a better chance of life.  If I was to have a reoccurrence in the future, I would still be thankful for all that I've been through and know that I made the right decisions.  God bless each of you and those who continue to fight the fight!

"Breast Friends Forever"

Dear "Breast" Friend,
It is with great thought and sadness, that I write this letter to you.  I can't imagine my life without you, but I know that I must heed all precautions and sever our relationship.  We have been inseparable, as long as I can remember; growing up together. My children think of you as a second mom, nicknaming you "Ne Ne" and crying after you when they were young.  My husband became "tickled pink" at the mere thought of seeing you.  This was a hard decision for me, but after finding out a year ago last month, the unthinkable; that you had unsuccessfully tried to take my life. This past year has been hard on me, I've been in and out of doctor's offices, trying to recover from your actions.  I truly wish that things could have been different, but the reality of it is that if you stay, you may try to kill me again, and I really want to live long enough to watch my grandchildren grow up.  With God's help, I can make it through our separation.  I know that I will never be the same without you in my life, but it has to be this way. "Breast friends forever....NOT"!

Jean

"The Love on the Left"

From day one of my diagnosis and mastectomy of the right breast, I have been adamant about having my left breast removed as well; only for precautionary reasons.  My doctor had told me to wait at least a year and see how I felt about it then.  This week became my "one year" anniversary of breast cancer diagnosis.  I have long awaited the visit that would determine if I could be free of "breasts" forever.  I can't even believe that I would be saying such a thing, but the mere thought of going through all I've experienced this year, again, makes me "wait in line"!  I am fully aware that cancer can return, even if the breasts are removed.  My first scheduled appointment ended with my doctor being called into surgery, so I was rescheduled for today.  My husband had taken a day of vacation, only to be asked the disappointing question of, "Can you come back Monday"?  Dr.Williams enters the room with a big grin and a statement that I was anticipating, "I know why you're here, and are you sure?"  After an examination of my chest and left breast, I am told that "it's 'a go' if I pass my Mammogram.  He stated that as far as he could tell, everything looked fine, but to be sure, I would have to have the dreaded "MAMA gram" as I refer to it, just in case something was "hiding" in there and he would need to have a plan of action before removal.  I hurried to my car, looking up the mammography center that I've used last year, and was able to make an appointment for this week.  Finishing up with my "Herceptin" this July, I have selected August as the month to say goodbye to the "love on the left" who has served me, hubby and children, well, for over the past 40 years. There will be no reconstruction.  I will also have my port removed at that time as well.  God has been so good to me, through all of this.  I can't imagine not having His arms to hold me, or His shoulder to cry on...God is Good!

"New Again!"

Almost two months now since I finished up with radiation.  I am still having my Herceptin infusions, three weeks apart and as I said before, I will have these for a full year, hopefully finishing up in July of this year.  I am scheduled for another heart echo gram on April 2nd, just to make sure the Herceptin hasn't messed with the "old ticker". Most of you are aware that my diagnosis was  HR2 positive Breast Cancer in my right breast, with a very rare breast disease called Paget's Disease in my nipple, whereupon, treatment followed with: a radical mastectomy with 14 lymph nodes removed in which 5 of those showed disease, 6 months of Chemo and 35 days of radiation.  Upon my 3 month visit to my oncologist,  I asked the question which had been tugging at me since diagnosis, "If my insurance will  pay, how do you feel about me requesting that you remove my "sister breast?" (as I like to refer) To my amazement, I received a positive answer and the wheels of motion began for inquiry with my insurance company.  It wasn't far into the week that I received a phone call from my doctor, informing me that the insurance would pay and I could set up a date for surgery at my liking... Thinking on when might be the most convenient time for me to have this done, my reasoning ended up with "no convenient" time.  Therefore, I have chosen June 1st.  I will  relay my decision back to the doctor at my next appointment in April.  Telling family and friends about my decision, I have been met with "why on earth would you want to go through that mess all over again"? to "I don't blame you!" to "I hope you know what you're doing!"  I can tell you this, once you've been through the above, and there is the slightest chance of it happening again, you don't want to hesitate.  I know that some women feel different about all that, and I respect their feelings, but for me, I choose to hang up the "old harness" forever.  I'm 60 years old now, feel at peace with my body and spirit, and know that my breast will never define me.  I am so very blessed to be comforted by a living God who knows all of my pluses and minuses.  One day, at His choosing I will leave this ole earth...and make my way to His Heavenly Home, and then and only then,  my body will be "new again!"  

"Battlefield or Wonderland"?

Being that it's been almost 3 months since I've posted, I thought that it might be time. In my last entry, I read where I had just finished chemo. Today I have another declaration to make, "I have just finished 35 days of radiation!" Prior to starting, I was told many different things about radiation, from "you won't be able to tell you've had anything" to "you may end up with something like a bad sunburn." I must say, both of the above were true. If I had to choose one thing that I disliked the most though, it would be having to stay still for ten minutes with your arms holding onto a bar behind your head, while a big silver machine rolls around the room making sounds like someone hosing down the garage floor accompanied by a buzzing noise, and taking potshots at you. I commented to one of the technicians one day that it even seemed like "Big Mac" as I called it, had rolled up under the bed I laid on. They replied with a surprise answer and said, "it does go under there!" I have equated the noises to everyday sounds that I hear other than the ones described. For instance, I was at work one day when my boss used the electric letter opener; radiation. A car drove by in the parking lot of Target that mimicked "Big Mac"; radiation. The rolling of our shop vac; radiation. I wonder if this is just a trick of my mind, reminding me of where I've been, should I start complaining of the "small things" in life. Talking to the nurse yesterday while having my "Herceptin" infusion, I told her that I had just finished up with the second leg of treatment, but it left me with a huge burn under my arm and mastectomy area and that I felt like I had been drug out and beaten. She told me that my body was a "battlefield" right now and I was the lone soldier. I commented to her that I thought there was a song by that name, she replied that I must be thinking about John Mayer's song "Your Body is a Wonderland"! We both belly laughed and I said, "I don't think that title applies here. I can tell you one thing, there is always something to laugh at in this world. When you run out of things, you can always laugh at yourself. God has be so faithful to me. My prayer has repeatedly been that I can be healed from this nightmare. Only God can know the answer to that, but I can say, He has been right by my side...through it all!

"Next!"

Well...I can actually say, I have made it through chemo! Having my last treatment of six, several days ago, I have put the first leg of the race behind me. Next will be some 30 daily radiation treatments. My cancer was Stage 2b and my doctor explained that if there are 3 or more lymph nodes involved, which I had 5, that they give you radiation treatments as well. I will also have the drug Herceptin given every three weeks until June 2014. This drug is supposed to help battle HER 2+ which is a gene that duplicates itself and what I have, supposedly hunting down this gene and destroying it or assisting in making my body immune to it. I sure hope it does what it's supposed to. This will only take 30 minutes as opposed to 5 hours for chemo. I will have a consultation with the radiologist in several days, and an echo gram for my heart the same day I have my Herceptin infusion, as this drug is a little rough on the ole ticker. I continue to be so thankful for all the prayers and well wishes that everyone has given up for me. God has a plan in all of this, and I will forever be changed because of it!

"Love Abounds"!

Walking into the treatment room, I see a jam packed room. Furnished with over 20 chemo chairs. Today, there appeared to be one or two open. My husband scurried to place our belongings in one, as I waited for my labs. I see my doctor and one hour later hurry back for my fifth chemo treatment. Having only one more treatment left, I am so ecstatic, even though I realize I am far from "through!" As we sit down, I look just adjacent from us and see a young couple who we met the previous treatment. She is a mid 30's lady with beautiful eyes and blonde hair, which is now replaced with a beautiful blonde "wig". Last month was her first treatment for breast cancer. To her left is a woman who speaks to everyone, and has no reservations of keeping her cancer to herself, telling any and everyone who will listen that she has breast cancer as well. There was a new volunteer named "Nancy". She was the kindest, most caring person I had every met. Nancy shared that just after several months of recovering from stage three pancreas cancer that she had a desire to come back and help others during treatment. She was a God-send to everyone there, offering everything from warm blankets to sandwiches. Soon the room would begin to empty as we had a later appointment and would be one of those, last to leave. I had remembered my doctor telling me sometime before my first treatment that I would be there close to five hours each time, but near the end they could speed my injections up, causing my time to shorten by an hour or so. As my nurse returned to check on me, I asked her if this was possible. She assured me she could and it would be safe. Tired from the day, we would be headed back to Polk County, an hour earlier than previously timed. Just as I was finishing up with my last drug, a lady came in for a 30 minute injection. We didn't have time to speak with her, but overheard her telling her story. She had first been diagnosed with Liver cancer some seven years ago. With surgery and chemo, at that time, they have now found a drug which is beneficial for her liver cancer, so her doctor had prescribed it for her to take for a year and has given her new hope. All of these people, suffering from this dreaded disease called "cancer, somehow causes a bond to form. I realized that in this room, I am no different than anyone else. Each person in here, shares the same grief; some more, some less. As you look around, baldness is nothing to stare at, weakness is not a handicap and kindness abounds. God bless each and every woman who faces the words as I did some six months ago, "Mrs. Edwards, your breast looks very concerning to me!"