I [Heart] My Life

Cancerland Timeline

I'm updating this timeline as I work my way through diagnosis to treatment to cancer-free. The timeline will stay at the top of my blog; scroll down for the latests posts & pictures. ~AS

Feb. 21, 2012: Lying on my side, I found a golf ball-size lump in my left breast.

Feb. 23, 2012: Met with my OBGYN and got referred for an ultrasound. We both felt confident it was a milk-related cyst.

March 5, 2012: In Tahoe, I celebrated my 35th birthday.

March 7, 2012: Ultrasound performed on lump; doctor says it looks "funny."

March 8, 2012: Biopsy #1 of left breast lump and lymph node. Mammogram performed. Then a weekend passes.

March 12, 2012: Diagnosed: invasive ductal carcinoma Stage 3, 7cm tumor, ER-, PR-, HER2+. Cancer found in both the lump and the biopsied lymph node. Biopsy #2 performed on right breast (masses biopsied and fully removed; deemed in situ, Stage O).

March 13, 2012: Breast MRI on both breasts and lymph nodes.

March 16, 2012: Met my chemotherapy oncologist for the first time, Dr. Y.

March 19, 2012: Met my surgery oncologist for the first time, Dr. R. (Surgery to come after chemo.)

March 20, 21, 22, 2012: Blood work, bone scan, CT, echo-cardiogram (all came back clear for cancer)

March 22, 2012: Chemo treatment #1 (first of 12 doses of Taxol, and first of year-long Herceptin)

April 12, 2012: Chemo treatment #4 is postponed due to too low of a white blood cell count.

April 15, 2012: First of weekly Neupogene shots (white blood cell booster).

April 13, 2012: Hair is falling out; get my first cancer hair cut (chin-length).

April 25, 2012: Tumor measured & found to be shrinking from the chemo.

May 11, 2012: Head-shaving party.

May 15, 2012: Brain MRI (results came back cancer-free).

Currently: Doing Taxol/Herceptin chemotherapy.

... this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama. You can play, too!

(Biking in Arana Gulch at sunset.)

(A new friend; San Lorenzo River, Henry Cowell State Park.)

(Natural Bridges Farm)

How lucky we were to have so many "moments" this week!

Taxol/Herceptin Treatment Journal: Week 9

In the Chemo Lounge: One hour (out of 5) to go on my drug infusion cocktail... happy hour, so to speak.

Here we are now. Entertain us.

The last drug in the mix today is the Taxol, and it heats me up. For the last several hours I've had socks, hat, blanket, and a sweater on. Now, the Taxol streams into my veins and warms me from the inside, from my feet up. Off come the socks and blanket, sweater too. If I can stand it, I'll keep the hat on, though sweat is prickling my upper lip. I haven't done too much publicly with my bald head, though this is a pretty good place to test drive the dome, really...

There are two others in the Lounge now. One guy is here for his weekly Morphine drip. He talks a little, but tells me apologetically that he's really druggy and out of it. His wife is here with him. She tells me about her own Taxol experience -- 5 years ago, she was the one on the pokey end of the IV, her husband the buddy. She tells me she is just now getting feeling back in her feet and fingers. She opens my bottled waters for me.

Across from me is another survivor. She has her own hair & is getting her weekly Herceptin. She's me this time next year...

Earlier an older woman was seated beside me, on my right. She got a drip from an Orange Tang-colored drug. Adriamycin? I sneak peaks at her hair, but can't tell if it is hers or a wig. When asked if she wanted a Lidocaine shot before the port was tapped, she said no. As she sipped her boxed apple juice, ate her Chips Ahoy, and read George W. Bush's memoir, I sat in silent awe of her bad-ass-ness. Later, he son comes for her, and she glides away with her walker, tennis balls on the back stoppers.

5 empty Laz-E-Boys today; it's a slow day. I listen to the nurses comment on how nice and peaceful it is. I learn Friday is a good/predictable day. Have no idea what that really means.

For me, this is Taxol #9. Nine out of 12. I'm rounding 3rd and heading for home. For so long it felt like I was just getting going on this journey; now it's becoming old hat. Once the Taxol trip is done, I'll switch cocktails (FEC-H, for anyone playing along at home) for another 3 rounds, spaced over 9 weeks. Then a wee break, then surgery, then another break to build mobility in my left shoulder again, then radiation to my breast (or lack of breast) and arm pit (28 doses: Monday thru Friday for five and a half weeks). Herceptin will continue weekly thru next April or May (though the wife of the Morphine guy tells me she got Taxotere for a full year on top of the Herceptin... Hmmm.).

A new patient/survivor arrives and takes the seat next to me. This is her second week of chemo. She's terrified of the pain of the injection into her new port. The nurse talks to her about the Lidocaine cream. Listening in, I learn that you have to really slather it on; they want to have to actually wipe excess cream away (if you want it to be effective at numbing the area, that is). Ah ha. I'll have to try that for my Monday Neupogene beastie. The cream didn't do much for my pain in the past...

Hot now. Hat is off: Behold my bald head; I hear it's a nice shape.

I also have to drag my IV pole to the bathroom. Again. For the 5th time today.

Ok, here we go now...

Entertain us.

Two More for Team April: How I Love These Brave Women!

My lovely sisters (in law) went short for me this week, donating their long hair to Locks of Love -- thank you, Whitney! Thank you, Bailey! It really helps having this team grow -- and spread across the country!

Whitney in Montana:

And Bailey, in Oregon, cut 10 inches!

 

Our No-More-Cancer Gardens

When it comes to cancer fighting, there's the chemo, the surgery, the radiation, the diet, the nap... And now, there's the "no-more cancer garden."

We got the idea from one of the wonderful childrens books we found to help Nia deal with all of this, called The Goodbye Cancer Garden (I wrote about it here a little while back). This book struck the strongest chord with Nia and she's been talking about planting our own garden for the last two months.

The idea has many benefits: We get to watch the garden grow and flourish as I get well (and flourish!), eating the good vegetables will help me get stronger, we have something to look forward to in watching the garden grow, etc. etc.

While I won't be completely cancer-free by the time the pumpkins are ripe, I'll be closer to the finish line!

To double our luck, we planted two gardens: One at home, and one at Granddaddy's. And had fun in the process!

And after all that dirt & sun, we relaxed with these:

And this:

Zip line! Granddaddy George set one up for Nia for her birthday. Between the zip line and the rings, this is gonna be one buff 4-year-old! But it's not the first time there's been a zip line on Skyline...

 

Once more, with feeling:

 

 

Team April: Running & Cutting and Getting it Done

It turns out I get the blues on Saturdays. It's become a thing. I think it must have to do with the last of the steroids leaving my system and the fatigue returning: Suddenly I can't do a million things anymore. In fact, I can only do two or three things (one of which is nap). And it is really depressing.

But this is when friends come in handy. Even friends who are in other states.

This weekend, two more members of my team came through in a big way and made me feel like I'm not so alone in this awful nightmare:

Angela ran the Corvalis, OR Purple Ribbon Run and carried my name across the finish line. These pictures put a huge smile on my face:

Meanwhile, Michelle gathered her family and her courage & cut her long, beautiful locks. For me. That's incredible.

(I love this family & these pictures so much!)

And on Friday, the president of my fan club took me out to dinner -- our first time since the diagnosis. It was a lovely evening so we sat outside on the patio (in case of germs inside) and we didn't order any wine, but still, it was pretty great (though I'm not totally sure if wigs are for me; I felt a little like I was in disguise the whole time, hoping they wouldn't recognize me from the surveillance tape from the bank I'd just knocked over...). Either way, I kind of love this picture.

Four Years, I've Loved You

Here is some cancer craziness for you: It's 2 in the morning. I'm wide awake. Earlier today I couldn't keep my eyes open. But now, when my family is fast asleep, I'm wide awake, my mind going round and round while my muscles are twitchy and my bones are achy. This sucks because tomorrow I'll be exhausted. Not only will I be exhausted but I'll get my Neupogene shot and Joe will be at work till 10p...

But in the midst of all the craziness that is cancer, my little one had a birthday. My life may feel to me like it is on hold, but hers is very much still moving forward. At lightening speed, it seems. Four years. Four amazing years.

It seemed kind of fitting that there would be an eclipse on Nia's birthday. Her birth eclipsed my life -- made it something extraordinary. Something shiny and irresistable...

Today I found myself often thinking of this quote by a woman, Elizabeth Stone: “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” It is so true. 

Happy birthday, my love.

PS. Zomina, here is a little video of Nia on her new rings. I believe this is a challenge. ;)

  

... this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama. You can play, too!

One day this week I surprised Nia by taking her to frozen yogurt & then I sweetened the deal by reading to her while she ate: One of our most favorite pasttimes -- that we don't do nearly enough -- is reading together in a coffee shop-like setting. We stayed till we'd finished the book. 

Team April: Get a Button For Your Blog

"Team April" folks: Want a button for your blog that looks like this?

My awesome cousin, Anne, just designed this for me. You can put it on your blog or website and it'll link back to my blog. That way your readers can read my blog too, and know that you are part of this awesome movement of people helping me battle this crazy disease! It's the next best thing to a T-shirt.  

See the same image of the button over on the right? There is a box below with the code you need to grab it for your own blog or web page. Enjoy!

I [Heart] Team April!

I'm not fighting this cancer alone.

Not by a long shot.

My husband deserves a medal for all he does for me (as roughly demonstrated by the Sigourney Weaver pictures and caption he sent me on Head Shaving Day, which many of you saw on Facebook). Here it is again:

"And here we have Sigourney Weaver proving that going bald can make you look
even more badass than shouldering a huge f-ing gun, and also be a major style improvement."

Joe's parents, Phil and Pam, have done so much for us from food preparation to helping interpret the bills coming in & talking to the insurance company, to watching Nia nearly daily. And my dad, George, has done the same: Helped out tremendously with Nia as well as gone to chemo with me.

There are so many of you out there who are a part of Team April. I want to take a moment to thank you and tell you honestly, it make such a difference! Some of you have been bringing amazing, nutritious meals to my family; some of you have been taking Nia out for extraordinary play dates; some of you have sent me creative gifts to make getting through chemo easier; some of you have bought and knit hats for me; some of you have actually joined me for my chemo treatments; some of you are running in fund-raising marathons for women's cancers; some of you have paid into our grocery accounts; some of you are giving me alternative treatments (acupuncture, massage, vitamins); some of you are my colleagues and are helping releave my work burdens; some of you are supporting me through your support of my blog -- thank you all for your uplifting comments. Joe and I both get a lot of strength from them. 

And some of you are going bald. I could not have anticipated how it would make me feel to see the following pictures of my brother, Kyle, last night. This simple, kind gesture made my whole day. Thank you, Kyle! <3

If others of you are inspired to shave your heads, too, please send me your pictures! Let's build a Team April gallery of shiny, healthy heads!

I [Heart] Team April! So much.

Taxol/Herceptin Treatment Journal: Week 7: Stanford "Magic" Mouthwash

~~ Journey to Cancer-Free: Treatment Journal Week 7 ~~

This treatment week turned out to be a little more "eventful" than normal. Let's see, there was the head-shaving. There were some sores on my tongue, which brought about The Stanford Mouthwash. There was some more acupuncture. The long-anticipated nueropothy (tingling in my hands and feet) arrived along with a tremor in my right hand. And there was an MRI.

First, the MRI: Last week I had several days that involved very sharp headaches that came on strong, and lasted 5-10 seconds. I was getting upwards of 10 of these a day. I emailed Dr. Y and he scheduled an MRI for me (which kind of freaked me out). But I had the MRI yesterday and at 8:30p Dr. Y called and said everything looked good. Phew!

The Stanford Mouthwash: This stuff is incredible. If you Google "Stanford Mouthwash" you get results for "Magic Mouthwash," which seems about right. It's Tetracycline, Nystatin, Hydrocortisone, Chlorpheniramine (an antibiotic, an antifungal, a steroid, and an antihistamine, plus something called "flavorsweet."). It cost about 40 bucks & I have to use it many times a day (5-10!), but it makes the sores on my tongue feel so much better, and hopefully it'll clear them up altogether.

Hair loss: As I posted earlier, Joe & Nia shaved my head this week. I also noticed hair loss elsewhere -- with chemo it isn't just the hair on your head that falls out. Suddenly my arm pits and legs are quite smooth, which is kind of a nice side-effect. I'm a little worried about my eye brows. I can see that they are thinning. I'm trying not to touch them at all. I've heard that eyebrows and eyelashes are often the last to go -- sometimes falling out a week after all the chemo wraps up. Nice.

But this week wasn't all about me and my chemo symptoms.

There was some tide-pooling, a cute little dress was designed and sewn, there was a lovely Mothers Day, Nia taught herself to hula hoop and became a little obsessed with picking up our 13-year-old, 11-pound cat. There was a lemon pudding inspired by a children's book (the book was great; the pudding needs work). We learned to play Japanese Hopscotch and we maybe finally had that hard conversation about cancer feelings.

Last night, before bed, Nia was having another hard night. Crying at the drop of a hat, type of night. All three of us, Joe, Nia and I, plus Kalli Cat, ended up huddled together in our giant bean bag chair. With some coaxing, Nia finally said that she's been getting angry and crying lately because she wants me to comfort her. She said I haven't been picking her up as much lately because I said she was too heavy. Then she said she just really misses my long hair.

And even though we were both crying and Kalli was meowing, it felt like such a relief to hear her speak these words and give voice to the giant sadness and anger and confusion inside. I feel terrible that she has been crying so that I'll hold her close. I didn't realize I wasn't holding her as much as before. I need to work on that...

And I can't blame her for feeling differently toward me without hair. I'm trying to get used to it, too, and I'm not the one having to look at me all the time...

It's all a work in progress, I guess. But maybe we made some progress.

And now it's Treatment Day again. Back into the fire. Re-set the calendar.