Pre-Op, Post-Op: It's All Good!

To digress slightly, there have been some medical appointments as of late that have seemingly come in a pack of 3 - like socks, iTune gift cards and a really nice set of pens.

Doctors, follow-up appointments, pre-op surgical consultations and the post-chemo early Herceptin Echocardiogram to make sure the 'ol ticker is still in good shape has been on the menu. A cornucopia (excuse the Fall, but timely reference), of all-important appointments in the land of cancer and surgery.

First stop, Dr. Grafton, my general surgeon, whom I see every 3 months for the post-mastectomy show-and-tell where she inevitably brings another professional into the room to say the predictable "See, isn't this wonderful? Look at that!" And she doesn't, at all, do this out of the need to boast or brag about her uber-surgeon-skillful-work but rather, to connect with her patients and show her sensitivity towards the aftermath of a double-mastectomy. And also as usual for her was the mid-sentence conversation we had the second she walked through the door - "So, I just came home at 1:00 this morning, guys because I had to go back East on a college tour for my oldest..." aaannnnd we're off! Accompanying her was my 'Nurse Navigator' (I do not make these titles up!) whom I call my 'Nurse GPS' - Tammy Stockero from the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara (LUV her!!) who happened to be in Dr. Grafton's office so she popped in on the post-mastectomy-surgical-party! 20 minutes later, we were all laughing, joking and hugging-it-out and forgetting all about the Big C!

Next stop, was my pre-op final breast reconstruction appointment with the ever-talented Dr. Julio Soares, plastic surgeon. Yep, the time has fallen upon me as I'm going in to get these #$%&!# breast expanders and magnet ports removed once and for all and to have the new FDA approved breast implants, AKA, the 'New Girls' (which I've already named), take up residence in my post-mastectomy chest. FDA regulated this, 425cc's that, skin sparing this, blah, blah surgical-talk blah. BUT....the silver lining (yes, that's how I'm calling it) is that this is my final surgery and BOOOONUUUSSS.... I got thrown in a complimentary Latisse eyelash prescription treatment (my other choice was Botox - noooo thanks!) to help these chemo affected eyelashes grow and thicken. But in all seriousness, my appointment with Dr. Soares goes as it always does - with sensitivity, kindness, respect and a heart-to-heart about the breast cancer journey. And as always, Dr. Soares and Hil get into a deep but enthusiastic convo about cameras, lenses, lighting, megapixels, filters and the like, all the while I stand there getting my breasts measured with some cold metal instrument as he declares my numbers for the nurse to record. AHEM.... helllllooo people, I'm in a gown, with it opened in the front - can we move the Canon 60D dialogue along and out into the hallway?! Yeah, thanks!

Last stop, was my post-chemo, 6-month cardiac follow-up with my previous technician Kim who loves to distract my wooshy doppler ultrasound experience with stories about her teenage daughter and the challenges of pubescent technology and the lack of face-to-face communication (and I thought breast cancer was a challenge? - ha!). But, 30 minutes later, she said I had a "beautiful heart" and that there was absolutely nothing for me to be concerned about. So, we bid each other adieu with a "See ya in 6 months!" and that was that. But, all in all, it was good to know that the Herceptin hasn't done a thing to my favorite bodily organ! And in fact, laying in the dim light on a massage-like table was kind of like taking a mid-afternoon nap which apparently me and my heart needed.


In the end, I hope to marvel at the new me. Walk proud. Be courageous in all matters of importance and carry on as if this were a tiny blip on the radar screen of my life. Can I hear a big Woot! Woot! please?!

Herceptin #10: Meet Chris!

I knew right out of the gate that I wanted to dedicate this treatment to my second cousin, Chris (and Aunt Charlotte's grandson), who was recently diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The son of my fabulous, first cousin, Deidre who lives 'one canyon over' from my mom up in the Monterey area - Chris is a true champ in every sense of the word.

A 15-year old teenager and a boy of few words, Chris has already shown quiet determination (totally genetic!) as he just completed this week's first round of 7/8 days of chemo (insert a loud round of applause here!). And of course, he is amazing and blowing away his team of doctors and medical staff up at Stanford already! Surgery - check. No nausea - check. Good appetite - check. Great attitude - double check.

Instead, Chris prefers to occupy his time with matters of great importance for a teenage boy, like listening to music, watching TV and gaming on his iPad during treatment. And while he and his family spend nearly 4 hours each day driving up to Stanford for his chemo, not a peep or a complaint is heard. Instead, Chris is simply doing the job that's been set before him by his fab medical team along with a great spirit.

And as I continue to stay in close contact with my cousin, I realize that I can really learn some things from my chemo comrade, Chris - like doing what I need to do right now and taking myself less seriously. I even told my cousin Deidre that I wish I could face my own life with cancer like a 15-year old boy - maybe I can. So, I will most definitely make every attempt to channel Chris a little more as I enter into another surgery next week and 7 more months of infusions.

So, join me in honoring Chris - an inspiration and a 15-year old force to be reckoned with!

Bald Solidarity!

I finally gave in and shaved Hil's head after months of her begging me to allow this act of solidarity. I simply couldn't bear it at the beginning of chemo as it only represented illness to me. But now that I'm on the other side of that part of treatment and feeling much better physically and emotionally, I volunteered to give her the Buddha look she was desiring a few nights ago (thank you Amy & Matt for the shaver!).  I am over the moon with her new look and this immense act of love and support! Here's a few more pics that I captured of her today. WOW, right?!

A nod to a true beauty...

In contemplation as always...

With our backyard Buddha. Lots of prayers these days...

Thanks to Buddha for answering our prayers...

A WORD FROM HIL... 

I've been so touched by Yog's bravery throughout this entire breast cancer journey and especially her willingness to embrace her beautiful baldness by walking out courageously in public without any hair covering.  Throughout this process, I have noticed how people, both young and old, would stare at her and I just wanted to protect her and shield her from all judgement.  So when in choosing to shave my head, I wanted to not only provide a buffer for her but to also walk in unity with her in as much as I could, not having gone through the experience of cancer, myself.  I also wanted to know what it was like to walk in her shoes, if only through the semblance of a bald head.  And since last Thursday, which was B-day (no, not birthday but rather my personal Bald-day) I have undergone an enormous emotional and spiritual change.  What was intended as a supportive gesture to Yog has ended up being a wonderful gift to me.  I feel stronger, more powerful as a woman, more vulnerable, and feel stripped of some of my ego. I never expected to receive the gifts I have from this simple act of a head shave but I'm glad I did it and am glad that Yog was the one to shave it for me....She is the brave one!

The Bald Truth

To the 4 kids and their mom in the blue Honda CR-V in the Trader Joe's parking lot:

The next time your kids yell out rude comments from your car window at the bald lady (AKA, chemo/cancer patient) pushing her grocery cart through the parking lot, PLEASE.DO.NOT.MAKE. FUN.OF.HER!! Instead, why don't you 'parent up' and make this a 'teachable moment' in lieu of allowing your little angels this disgraceful behavior. SHAME.ON.YOU! And, while you're at it, you should also not look directly at the bald lady (that would be me!) and start laughing with your kids before quickly rolling up your window!

Oh, and here's another little insight for you CR-V mom - you will, at some point in time, be afflicted by this epidemic called breast cancer! If it's not YOU, it may be your daughter that was sitting next to you in the car in 15 years that receives this diagnosis. Or, it may be your mom, sister, cousin, best friend or neighbor that has to endure this atrocious and hellish disease.

Truth told, do you not think that I already don't feel emotionally drained from this experience that I have had to withstand for the past year? 20 years? Do you think that I am feeling at my physical best during this cancer gig? Do you know how horribly difficult this past year has been on my life, my partner's life, my sister, my mom, cousins, friends and neighbors?

Will you laugh then when your own life is impacted by the doctor saying - "I'm sorry to tell you, but you have breast cancer - AGAIN!?" Will you stop your sons from making fun of your mother, daughter-in-law, sister, daughter? Will you look the other way to try and hide your snickering then? OR...... might you take the high road and impart some thoughtful and mindful wisdom while showing some compassion and sensitivity as a conscious parent?

Just asking.

Herceptin #9: No Monkeying Around!

As Dr. G. said to me a couple of weeks ago, "You have chemo room anxiety. All patients do!" Really, I thought? Not me. I don't think I feel that much anxiety about going in there. But, this morning at 3:00 am proved me wrong. Dang! I don't like that he's right on this one! I mean, even Hil admitted to having the same anxiety about being in there along with the familiar 'chemo smell' that gets to her while we're in the treatment room.

But, early this morning (3:00am to be exact), I was awakened by significant nausea, which, was going nowhere and actually became significantly worse. So, I popped my anti-nausea pill and tried to settle into it and go back to sleep but, my stomach wasn't buying it. Hil went downstairs to get me an applesauce cup so that I could have something in my belly to help and it did the trick thank goodness. As her dietician cousin says, "Nausea needs attention with meds and stomach pain needs food." So, that's what we did, which, definitely helped, but was taking a little longer than I desired.

Hil, now wide awake, spent the next half-hour sitting next to me with her hand on my stomach trying to aid me to sleep. Must have worked, because the next thing I knew, it was 6:00am and the alarm was sounding off.

So, in my usual pre-infusion ways and rituals, I took in lots of water today, went for a long walk, meditated, ate wonderfully, healthy foods and journaled. I also like to keep to myself on these days in order to cultivate the right mindset and framework. It's much too easy to be externally distracted by life's minutiae so my goal is to maintain a certain, yet solid mentality that allows me to have my 'Pac Man Medicine' as my focal point for the day and for my treatment.

As for the Herceptin infusion itself, it went fast and easy once my veins cooperated. Took a couple of tries but eventually my nurse (the fabulous Martha!) found the right one. She kept apologizing that the first several pokes weren't working and I about squeezed Hil's little hand right off, but we got through it and all went well.  I even scored a monkey bandage like I used to get when I had to go in for my post-chemo immune booster shots with Amber. 

As for our time in the chemo room, we spent it as we usually do with Hil going to the 'blanket oven' and bringing me two blankets (and a pillow!) - one for my cold infusion arm and one for my body as it's very chilly in there! And then we settled in... me on my iPad, iPhone and writing some cards while Hil was grabbing some snacks and downloading all those saved up Amazon gift cards on her Kindle (my sister would be so proud of her that it only took 2 months to use them since her birthday)!

So, all in all, Herceptin #9 treatment proved to be just fine and A-OK! Only 8 more months of my marvelous infusions and it's a done deal. In the meantime, I'm aspiring and striving at staying present with myself each minute, hour and day as I forge on with my cure. What choice do I have but to stay as focused as I can and allow this miracle medicine to heal and cure my body. While that's the prize at the end of this trail, I can't help but be reminded that each moment we have is a precious one. As the children's song 'Going on a Bear Hunt' says - Going on a bear hunt! Going on a bear hunt! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! Are you? Are you? Not me! Not me!

Standing on the Corner of BALD St. and CHEMO Ave.

No, I did not plan this one bit. In fact, I didn't even notice this sign when Hil and I went to Ojai a couple of weeks ago for one of our 'Sunday drives.' We simply wanted to be out in the sunshine and after stopping at a new outdoor cafe for a break and a small bite to eat, we returned to our car to keep heading down the road when we noticed it. We both gasped, laughed and immediately she wanted a pic of me right under my new street sign. We couldn't believe the coincidence (HA!) of standing on this corner at this time in my life - baldness down one street and chemo down the other. Clearly, a salute and a bow to this journey.

Flying Solo with Herceptin

Although it's been some time since my last blog entry, cancer, chemo and Herceptin are always on the forefront of my mind. And after finishing 6 rounds of chemo, a bout with bronchitis and now the flu, I remain grateful for all the good medicine that comes my way.

Officially, next Tuesday will mark my 9th treatment total and my 3rd solo Herceptin infusion which takes less than 2 hrs. from my pre-treatment appointment with my oncologist, a chat and check-up with his fab P.A. Amanda, and the dreaded weigh-in. A far cry from the 6 plus hours I used to spend in the cancer center. And although I'm nearly 40 lbs. lighter, I still beg the nurse to skip that part and negotiate at least 2 lbs. less due to clothes and a meal in my belly. She usually gives in and now says, "Okay, minus 2 lbs, that makes....." Thank you Martha!

As for the wonderful support people in my life, I count myself extremely fortunate to have good friends and neighbors helping out along the way. Deb and Sam (my beanie pal across the street) drove me to my first solo Herceptin treatment in August and provided great company to me. Afterwards, we even fit in a quick stop at the beach on the way home to get a whiff of that great ocean air and take in some of those magical negative ions to enhance the mood.

So, even though I have 8 months left of infusions for the 'ol veins to endure, I count my lucky stars that my 'Pac Man Medicine' (my visualization) is doing its thing to implode those cancer cells. So, thank you Herceptin, thank you Dr. Michael Press for discovering this miraculous medicine that's giving me my cure and thank you Cancer Center of Santa Barbara.

Grateful indeed.