Like a Phoenix

Since the last time I posted, I have another one to check off the list: I had my last appointment with the plastic surgeon on April 10th.  That is, unless I decide I want to have him do more liposuction to improve the shape of my breasts (nothankyouverymuch!). Overall everything looks good--Dr. Sterkin is very pleased with the final results.  I told him I was still having pain (feels like bruising) on the right side, but he said that could be all the nerves, which were triggered by the fat transplant. (Sure would have been nice to know that beforehand!) He also said I should not have had the OT do the deep tissue massage in that area, as the type of implants I have (textured) and the way he put them in (sewn to my ribs) could be damaged by massage in that area. It might even be causing lymphedema in my torso! So I stopped the massage, and it actually seems to be getting somewhat better. Less bruised, at least, though still some pain.

I then showed him how I reacted to the dye in the tattoo on my ankle and he said that my reaction, in combination with my low platelets and how thin the skin on my irradiated side is, would make him recommend that I do *not* get my breasts tattooed--at least nothing as major as I'd hoped.  If I wait another year or so, I could try to get nipples (or 3D nipples) tattooed, but probably nothing more major than that. I really saw no reason to get nipple tattoos (not like they'd be functional or something I'd want to show off like a cool design) until I started going to the gym and pool. I guess it would be nice to feel a bit less awkward when changing in public.  I don't know--I'll see what happens in a year.

This week I had my 3 1/2 month follow-up with Dr. Shah. Overall everything seems good.  Bloodwork is all normal except platelets (holding steady at 85K).  She was happy to hear that exercise seems to be helping with the joint pain.  (To be honest, I'm happy and surprised about that, too!) 

I did decide to drop out of the clinical trial I had been doing. I'm feeling some guilt about that.  However, the combination of the effort to get 10 tubes of blood from me at two different times within a week, plus my not wanting to be knocked on my butt for 3 days following the injections (severely impact my triathlon training), and knowing I'm a control and have made it through the majority of the clinical trial (thank you, Biostats, for teaching me about Kaplan-Meier curves so I understand my participation is not completely lost, even after dropping out), helps.

My trigger thumb (side-effect of Femara) seems to be getting worse and is causing me pain, so Dr. Shah recommended getting a cortisone shot. Still need to schedule that--thinking I'll check with the orthopedic doctor my mom used for both her knee replacements and carpal tunnel syndrome surgeries (Dr. Rory Wright). Add another doctor to the mix!

The experiment to wean off the compression garments is having mixed results.  I think it was going well when I wasn't wearing them most days (unless I felt my finger swelling).  But then gardening season started and every time I'd garden, I'd get swollen, so I wore them more for that.  And many doctors and therapists say you have to wear them while exercising. I actually notice more swelling AFTER exercising, and it seems I am always either exercising or it's the day after exercising, so I'm wearing them a lot more again. I did get two new sets, and realized how stretched out the older sets had gotten. I also read a post on how alcohol is bad for lymphedema.  Not that I drink a lot, but that plus the recent article about one drink a day increasing breast cancer recurrence kinda sucks! Nothing like a little guilt about my one drink a month.

Another relatively new side effect I've developed is restless legs--anytime I'm still for awhile, but especially when I'm trying to fall asleep.  Dr. Shah recommended trying a calcium supplement, so I'll give that a shot.

The biggest issue I talked about with Dr. Shah was my brain fogginess. Of all the side-effects I'm having from treatment, it's by far the one that is bothering me the most. The worst part is that I feel like it's getting worse, and not better. I'd chalked it up to chemo-brain, which is supposed to improve following that first year after treatment ends. I find myself really struggling with names and with words in general (I can give you a long description of the word I'm looking for, but can't come up with the word). And recently there's been a LOT of people saying, "remember when..." and I honestly canNOT remember what they ask about. It's annoying and a little scary. Dr. Shah asked about brain exercises/games and I told her I do 7 Little Words every morning and have recently returned to playing Words With Friends (thank you to those who play with me!). She said that was good, but I should add math games--like Sudoku.  I don't like Sudoku, so Greg suggested KenKen, which is kind of fun, but I wish there was a social math game like WWF.  Anyone know of one? The other thing that Dr. Shah recommended was a visit to a Neuropsychologist to determine if my brain fogginess is really chemobrain, or something else. This made so much sense, as I had just read a couple interesting articles that supported the idea of it NOT being chemobrain. My friend Dawn posted an article about breast cancer survivors developing a form of PTSD--usually about a year after treatment ends. And then I found another article about how brain fog after breast cancer treatment might be caused by PTSD and not chemo. So I agreed to a four hour evaluation appointment with a neuropsych next month. On the one hand, the last thing I need is one more appointment, but I am determined to do whatever it takes to maintain as much quality of life as I can. So I'll do it.

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And finally, the biggest change in my life lately--and the inspiration for the title of this post: Team Phoenix.

I am now 6 weeks into the 14 week training of Team Phoenix.  I will complete my first (sprint) triathlon on July 30, 2017, and any of you are welcome to come meet me at the finish line. It starts with a 1/4 mile swim in open water, then a 15K bike ride, and finally a 5K run (or walk).  I have already ridden 15+ miles on my donated Trek bike; I have done 5K's before and am C25King my way back to that, and I am desperately trying to learn to swim in a more effective manner than I have all my life so I can do that part. 

The exercise plan has resulted in some more muscle aches, but it has done amazing things for my joint aches and flexibility.  I feel STRONG!

Still, the best part of Team Phoenix is that I'm doing this with 56 other female cancer survivors (most breast, but not all). Some of us started w/o knowing how to swim, or not having even ridden a bike for years. Some started as previous triathletes. But we're doing it together, with the most amazing team of coaches possible--including Team Phoenix alums. I cannot put into words what a powerful experience this is, and if you are a cancer survivor in the Milwaukee area, you need to do this next year!

The support for Team Phoenix is amazing and I want to give appreciation to the organizations that donate.

*Wheel & Sprocket loans us brand new Trek hybrid bikes (which we can buy at a discount after the triathlon); I've named mine Fawkes

*Land's End gave us each a swimsuit (the one I got FITS ME as it's a tall one)

*One Step gives us a discount on custom-fit running shoes (I can't believe how much difference it makes to own "good" running shoes that correct for my inward-turned knees)

*The JCC gives us a free membership the duration of training (so I can practice swim, but also could use the treadmills and stationary bikes on rainy days)

We travel all over SE Wisconsin for practice twice a week and to see trails and parks that I didn't know existed. 

It is tiring and very time-consuming, but I'm dragging family into practice with me so I get to see them. If anyone wants to bike or run with me--or help me figure out swimming--let me know.  I'm determined to do this, and to set myself on a path to continue with at least some of the activities. There's a pretty active TP Alum biking group!

And so I am, slowly, rising (like a Phoenix) back to my old self--or maybe, in some ways, a better self. All I have to do is flip back through my blog entries to see how far I've come. Thank you all for supporting me.

Mentorship and healing

I said I'd write a post this week, though I don't have an awful lot to share.  Still, the legacy of chemo-brain is with me, and so I'll write if for no other reason than to refresh my own memory when I try to remember how things were in six months.  

I had my 3 month check this week.  And the good news is that I can start spreading out my check-ups now.  That means my next one will be in 4 months.  Or at least it would be in 4 months if I weren't doing the clinical trial.  Since it takes place every 6 months, I'd have to come in in 3 months for it, and then a month later for my regular check...  So we're going to split the difference and I'll go in in 3 1/2 months.  I'm hoping after that I can push it to 5 1/2 months so I can do both at once again.  Let's see how that works!

The worst part of this visit was the blood draw.  I really miss my port!  As those of you who read Facebook know, this draw did NOT go well.  I know I'm a kinda tough stick, but this was ridiculous.  I have three holes in my arm, but each of them involved multiple in and out, back and forth, up and downs.  I am ridiculously bruised--especially on my wrist!  Who ever heard of taking blood from your wrist?  

That's two days after the appointment. And on the wrist where I wear my FitBit!  Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Other than the blood draw, I had a very good appointment.  

My platelets are stable at 84K.  All other CBC measures were normal--which is unusual for me! My hemoglobin level is in the normal range, so I can stop iron supplements for the first time in over 2 years.  

We talked a lot about Femara and the pains it's causing me.  I'd read up a lot about a study done in the mid 2000's called BIG 1-98, which compared 5 years of tamoxifen to 5 years of Femara.  In addition to a general "Femara is more effective" result, when it's broken out into several groups that I fall into, the results are even better.  For example, women with invasive lobular carcinoma (which I had--much more rare) had even greater effect on Femara than women with invasive ductal carcinoma (the most common invasive BC).  There was also concern that switching young women from tamoxifen (used in pre-menopausal women) to Femara might not be effective since sometimes they were thrown into menopause unnaturally by treatment.  But that is not the case--it's even marginally more effective in "younger" (defined as under-55) women.  So I am convinced that this is the med for me, and I need to learn to manage the side effects.  Dr. Shah says that (at least at this point) research shows there's not sufficient benefit to be on Femara longer than 5 years, so I will be on it for 5 years (as opposed to 10--although I'm sure research can always change that).  I can do this for 5 years!  The side effects that I'm dealing with are mainly three things: joint/bone pain, tiredness/exhaustion, and trigger thumb.

Trigger thumb is annoying--especially first thing in the morning.  If it gets really bad, I can get a cortisone shot, but for now it's doing okay with me just massaging and stretching it.  Luckily it's on my non-dominant (and non-affected) side. I'm considering trying a brace for nighttime, as keeping it straight overnight is supposed to help.  It's worst in the morning--painful as well as annoying.

Dr. Shah isn't convinced that my level of exhaustion is due to the Femara.  She wants me to have my thyroid levels tested (again--had them done about 5 years ago).  More doctor appointments...  But Dr. Shah also said using caffeine is fine.  So I've upped my coffee consumption and just can't do late nights (and by late nights, I mean out after 9:00 pm) or early mornings.

The biggie is the joint pain.  I'm having the worst pain in my right knee, which I know has osteoarthritis.  But the rest of me hurts, too--my back, hips and legs, especially.  I have permission to take Advil and Tylenol if needed, but Dr. Shah says I really need to exercise--and that doesn't mean walking.  She said at least 5 days a week of cardio for 30 minutes.  She promises it will help, but I hate cardio. Still, I can't keep up with this level of pain, and I don't want to stop the Femara, so I'm trying.  I re-started C25K on Wednesday night, was really sore Thursday morning, did 30 minutes of the elliptical Thursday night, and can barely walk this morning.  <sigh> I am, however, going to an informational meeting next week about Team Phoenix--a triathlon training program for breast cancer survivors.  I've heard fantastic things about it, and I hope that belonging to a group like that will make me work at a level I need. Besides that, they have PT's and athletic trainers who have experience with cancer patients and I think that will be super helpful.

The other good thing from my appointment is that I have permission to try to go w/o my compression garments and to "cautiously observe" my hand and arm for lymphedema.  One of the odd side effects of wearing a sleeve is that I wasn't using my right hand/arm (for fear of getting my glove dirty and/or not having grip on that side) and my strength has really gotten poor.  So hopefully now I'll use my right arm more.  It feels very strange!  I'm still wearing the nighttime garment and will for a couple weeks at least to make sure that the lymphedema doesn't return.  If it's okay, I'll try to stop the night one, too.  I'll still always have to wear them for high risk activities (like flying), but it would really be nice to not have to wear one in the summer heat.

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Finally, the other thing that I've been doing cancer-related is mentoring.  

When first diagnosed, I didn't want to tell local people until I knew "everything," including my treatment plan.  But I needed someone to help me figure out what was happening next and what the tests meant and what options existed.  I had an online friend who was my go-to and I couldn't have made it without her guidance and no-nonsense advice.  Since that diagnosis, I've been able to share advice with other long-distance friends.  Though I wish it weren't the case, I'm so glad to be able to pay it forward.

When I let the kids' teachers know about my diagnosis, one of them told me about ABCD (After Breast Cancer Diagnosis), as her mother was a mentor.  I reached out and was paired with two mentors who were wonderful.  I contacted them a lot until word got out locally and I switched much of my dependency to locals. I was trained to be an ABCD Mentor in November and was able to connect with my first mentees this month.  The training was emotional (re-living everything) and yet very good.  I was a bit afraid that mentoring would do the same again.  And to an extent, it did.  But overall it is a really Good Thing.  I am able to think about what I've been through differently, this far out.  And I can say, without a doubt, that treatment sucks, but it's doable. It's awful, and scary, and emotional and really scary and totally doable.

As I said, when word got out, I was surrounded with support from local survivors/veterans.  I connected with women who I'd known, but not shared much more than a passing hello with for years.  (Once you're in "the club," you understand.)  One of these breast cancer veterans and I met for coffee last month, and found out that an employee at the coffee shop is currently going through chemo for breast cancer.  We decided to do a monthly "Cancer Coffee" (we're open to a friendlier name suggestion :)) and if you're a BC veteran and live in the area and want to join us, email or message me and I'll send you details. 

The new friends I've made (and friendships I've strengthened) are yet another silver lining.  I'll take it!

Two years

Facebook reminded me that it's been two years since I started this blog (with this post), but I've been keenly aware of all the two-year "anniversaries" in the last 5 weeks.  It started on Thanksgiving day, which was the two year mark since I first found the lump.  It brought me back to those stressful weeks not knowing, and then, knowing, but not saying anything about it, and not *doing* anything (i.e.: surgery, chemo, etc.).  I remembered all the feels of seeing my primary care doctor, sneakily having my friend Everett cover my classes so I could get the diagnostic mammogram and then the biopsy done (and letting him think that I needed the time for my Mom's medical issues).  I remembered reading and getting more and more scared as I learned the characteristics of my cancer (HR+, HER-2+) and the side effects of the probable treatments.  I remembered worrying how I'd start a new job in the midst of treatment and how I'd get through graduation and Christmas, knowing I had a cancerous tumor inside of me and that I wasn't doing anything about it.  Each memory brought a little more anxiety and I worried about what D-day (diagnosis day--when I actually heard the words "you have cancer") would bring.  And then, to my amazement, it was December 6th and I had completely missed December 5th--D-day.  And I think that, in many ways, that represents the way my whole cancer journey has gone--fear about things that ended up not being that bad.  

Sure, when you look at the whole picture, this really sucks.  Getting cancer at age 44; having ALL THE TREATMENTS with their associated side-effects that I'm still managing, and always will be; all the time and the money spent on trips to medical appointments (I'm up to 171 appointments; no impact on my day-to-day there!); the ever-present fear of recurrence or metastasis...  But on the whole, I handled treatments well, and so far, treatments are working (fingers crossed ;)).

I haven't blogged for three months, and in some ways a lot of medical stuff happened in that time, but in other ways, not much happened at all.

I've continued with my clinical trial, and my suspicion was confirmed.  All along, I've felt that I was in the control group.  Basically, the immunological tests were all showing no response, so I knew that either I had the control or it wasn't working.  This time, after giving the booster, the oncology nurse left behind the bag that the injections were stored in.  It clearly read "Neuvax-CTRL."  So while I "knew" I was getting the control, I didn't really *know* it until last month.  And I still have to go in twice every 6 months to give 8 vials of blood.  It's a little harder to do that, but I know that control groups are also important in clinical research, so I'll do it.

The scariest thing that happened was in late October.  After my final reconstruction, I had to be very careful to not move my implants, so I really didn't touch my new "breasts" for a long time.  But I was having lots of stiffness on my radiated side and I feared that the scars were sticking, so I got permission to begin some gentle massage on the scars.  It was then that I found a lump in the exact same spot that my original main tumor was located (10:00 on my right breast).  I told myself that it was likely lumpiness from the surgery--I even called my oncologist's office, who said it was probably post-surgical changes.  Because they didn't know what my breasts felt like prior to surgery, they wouldn't examine me to be sure that's what it was, though.  I had to see my plastic surgeon--who couldn't get me in for weeks.  Finally, after several appointments and "it's probably nothing" comments, I ended up with an ultrasound that proved that it was, in fact, just necrotic fat that did not vascularize when Dr. Sterkin did the liposuction and injected fat over the implants.  Who would have thought that the phrase "dead fat" would bring such joy?  

I've been faithfully wearing my lymphedema sleeves and gloves day and night, and the lymphedema has not gotten worse.  Unfortunately, it hasn't gotten better, either.  In addition, I was somewhat babying my right side and lost a lot of strength in that arm, and also had a lot of tightness post-surgery, so got referred back to Audrey, the OT.  I'm getting stronger, and have a ton of exercises for strength and stretching, and have been discharged from OT again (after 2 months).  But Audrey has said that I'll likely need to wear a sleeve the rest of my life since the swelling hasn't gone down in 5 months.  

The actual sleeves are a bit more attractive than the makeshift one I originally had.

However, I might have to invest in one of the cool sleeves that LympheDIVAs sell.  Greg thinks I should get the cyborg one:

All in all, things are good.  I'm still vaguely annoyed with how tired I am--though at  least some of that may be due to age!  And while the Femara is not as bad as either Arimidex or Tamoxifen, I do still have joint aches.  I also had a bone scan, which showed no signs of osteoporosis, but some pretty bad arthritis in my right knee.  I've pretty much given up on running, but am trying to walk (at least 10,000 steps per my FitBit) every day.  I'm considering doing some sort of a gym thing--which came to mind when I realized how weak I'd gotten.  Considering yoga, too, although I'm not a huge fan of it yet. Open to suggestions of fun ways to stay fit!

Finally, we had an absolutely magical Christmas.  All five of us spent five days in Puerto Morelos, Mexico.  The sun, green things, warmth (magic for my arthritis!), and family time was perfect.  One of the coolest things was doing yoga in a pagoda in the ocean.  If I could do yoga that way all the time, it would definitely be my exercise of choice!  I mean look:

The trip was one of the many Good Things that cancer brought.  Pre-cancer, there is no way I could have justified spending that much money on a vacation.  And we would have missed out on those five amazing days.  The memories made on our trip far exceed any joy that would have come out of making an extra mortgage payment ;).  

So on this New Year's Day, 2017, I resolve to say "yes" more often, and to make fun a priority.  I would ask all of you to do the same.  Don't wait until it's forced on you.  And if you have something particularly fun in mind, feel free to ask me to join you.  I'll try my best to say yes.

The legacy of cancer

It's been a few weeks since I wrote.  In that time:

1.  I started (and was discharged from) OT for the lymphedema.  The swelling is still there, but it's not quite as bad and--what you really hope for--it hasn't gotten worse.  I have been measured for custom compression garments, but they haven't arrived yet, so I'm still wearing the (very ratty) temporary stuff. 

2. I've quit wearing my daytime TMJ brace.  My teeth aren't perfectly back to normal, but so far, so good with only the night brace.

3.  I've graduated from the post-surgery compression garments.  It timed perfectly with the fall weather and drop in temps by 10-20 degrees, so just when an extra layer wouldn't have been the worst thing.  :)  It's still very nice to be done with that.  

4.  I got my baseline bone density scan (I'm average, which is good).  As long as I'm on aromatase inhibitors, I'll get them regularly to check for osteoporosis.

5.  I took two weeks off of the Arimidex and the bone aches almost completely disappeared!  So now I'm trying out Femara.  I appreciate any non-achy vibes sent my way!  

6.  I picked up a cold somewhere, which seems to hit me extra hard.  I'm still so tired, that adding one more thing wipes me out.  But I'm pulling out of that, too.

7.  And I lost my mother (obituary here).  Although she technically died from pneumonia, it was cancer that killed her.  In 2008 she was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer.  At the time of her diagnosis, the median survival time of those diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer was 8 months.  The 5 year survival rate was 4%.  My mom made it 8 1/2 years post-diagnosis.  She was able to move near me (more importantly, near her grandkids), and to get treatment at Froedtert, which no doubt prolonged her life.  She had two recurrences (to her lungs again, and then to her brain), and each time, cancer took a little more from her life.  By the last few years of her life, it had taken so much.  She lost the ability to be self-sufficient.  She lost the ability to walk.  Her hearing deteriorated, and while hearing aids may have helped a little, they didn't fix things.  And the cancer changed her from one of the most outgoing, giving, social people I've ever known to someone who turned more and more into herself.  I don't think it bothered her, but I selfishly wanted the mom who'd I'd grown up with--the mom who I would talk to multiple times a day, and that was the first person I wanted to tell about everything I did, and everything my kids did.  

Cancer also took my dad, 13 1/2 years ago, at age 62.  It was a different cancer, agnogenic myeloid metaplasia, and it took him sooner after diagnosis.  In 2002, there were very few treatments, and none of them worked for him.

I have other relatives who have battled different cancers.  One of my first appointments post-diagnosis was with the genetic counselor, who mapped out my pedigree, with squares and circles, some filled and some open.  I had genetic testing done for the 17 most common genes known to be linked to breast cancer.  I tested negative for all of them.  The other cases of cancer in my family are varied types.  There's not a definite link between my parents' cancers and mine.  As has been shown, the majority of cancer cannot be traced to genetics. Whether it's just bad luck, or environmental exposures and behavioral choices, lots of people are getting cancer.  But as we are living longer, our ability to screen for things like cancer is improving, and best of all, more people are living--and living longer--after diagnosis.  I try not to think about what that means if my dad (or my mom) had been diagnosed even a few years later.  What it DOES mean is that there's not necessarily a "legacy of cancer"--at least not genetically.  It is good to know about screenings and things to watch for, but that's something that everyone should do, regardless of family history.  The American Cancer Society no longer recommends breast self exams, but they DO recommend being familiar with your own breasts, so that you know if something changes.  I think that's true about your body in general.  YOU know your body best and if something seems off, find out why.  

The one thing I will take from my mom's cancer story is how she broke the odds.  Time and time again, her doctors and nurses would tell her how tough she was.  She was a role model to me for not listening to the statistics.  It's tough, but in the end, even the best statistical predictions have only a 99% confidence interval.  That's plenty of room for exceptions.  :)

Breast Cancer: The gift that keeps on giving

I apologize in advance for being kinda whiny.  I swear, after my last post, I was all set to get on with living my life.  But unfortunately, that just won't really ever be possible.  Once you've got a cancer diagnosis, nothing in your life will EVER be "nothing" again.

A little over a week ago, I had this strange pain in the middle finger on my right hand.  It felt bruised, hurt to bend, and the top of my right hand also felt bruised.  It seemed as though I'd jammed my middle finger somehow (being naturally clumsy, that would normally be entirely possible, but since I bruise so easily, if that would have been the cause, my whole hand would have been purple, so I was pretty sure that wasn't what caused it).  I wondered for several days if I should "do" something about it (as that pesky "L" word is always at the back of my mind, given that I had 12 lymph nodes removed), and I googled to see if "lymphedema in middle finger" was a thing, but I couldn't find anything that made me think that's what it was.  So I chalked it up to being paranoid/borderline hypochondriac and ignored it.

Monday night my finger swelled up so much that I couldn't see the creases in my knuckle.  I couldn't bend it.  I couldn't put the fingers on my hand together.  And of course it was a holiday evening and I didn't think it was worth a trip to the ER.  But I looked up "exercises for swollen finger" and did some fist clenching and slept (fitfully) with my hand above my heart until I could call the nurse navigator in the morning.

Skipping ahead, I got in to see the OT, Audrey, this morning.  It IS lymphedema.  It's Stage 1, which is reversible.  In addition, my old friend Cording has returned, and there is a lot of scar tissue and lymph blockage post-surgically.  Audrey told me how happy she was that I came in when I did, and that we will work with exercises, lymphatic drainage/massage, and I now get to wear a lovely compression glove and sleeve.

This is the temporary sleeve--I'll get measured for a custom made one sometime next week

At this point I need to wear it day and night, except when showering.  <here comes the whine>  It's hot and tight and itchy and it hurts to bend my arm in it.  It's hard to type or text. And it's really ugly.  I feel like a sausage when you take into account the damn Spanx that cover me from chest to knee and now this.  The part that is annoying me the most is that this is just one more example of how life post-cancer will never be normal again.  (I have heard this from other survivors as well.)  Achy joints aren't necessarily arthritis--they're possibly bone mets or leukemia from the chemo.  Stress headache?  Might be brain mets.  Might be a stomach ache from that enchilada, or maybe it's your liver.  

THIS TOTALLY SUCKS AND CANCER HAS TAKEN OVER EVERY PART OF MY LIFE FROM USING VACATION TIME FOR DOCTOR APPOINTMENTS TO NEEDING TO WEAR A DENTAL APPLIANCE FROM THE SURGICAL INTUBATION TO NEEDING TO BRING A CHANGE OF CLOTHING PLACES BECAUSE THE "HOT FLASHES" LEAVE ME DRIPPING AND WHEN I'M FINALLY CLEARED TO RUN AGAIN, THE PAIN FROM THE AROMATASE INHIBITOR MAKES ME WADDLE IN PAIN AFTERWARDS.

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OK, I'm better.  I am very fortunate that I know these^ things.  I know to trust myself when something doesn't feel right.  I have good medical insurance and a wonderful team who will check things out and will be honest with me.  I *did* seek out help at Stage 1 (reversible) lymphedema, and I can do something about it.  I have a wonderfully understanding, flexible job and am surrounded by so much support from family and friends that I wish I could share it with those who don't have the support.  Also, I can ride a bike again--for real.  The new, permanent breast implants do not rub on my arms and make them go numb.    Is it okay, though, if, despite these things, I still hate my new "normal"?

Post-surgery restrictions lifted!

I had my 8 week follow-up appointment with the plastic surgeon today.  He is thrilled with the way the surgery went and how I look (and feel; yes, my appointments do include a groping).  He has, in the past, had to have his memory refreshed on which side I would have/did have radiation on, which I just chalked up to him having way too many patients to remember that kind of stuff.  But today he said it was remarkable that you could not tell by looking which side I had irradiated.  He said I am the first of his patients (and he's been doing this a long time) that didn't have post-radiation skin darkening.  It's especially odd, given that I both freckle and burn so easily.  It wasn't until I left the office that I began to wonder if it was because I slathered on so much aloe vera during radiation (minimum of 3x/day) that I didn't have permanent skin damage...

So anyway, I still have to wear the Spanx for another month, which is kind of annoying, but the weather is getting a bit cooler, and it's only one more month.  I am cleared to reach over my head, to exercise, to sleep on my side, and even to get my breasts tattooed (next month).  Hooray!  

Life has been busy these last few weeks.  We took a mini-vacation Up North to see my mom and my brother and his family.  The older kids moved into their dorms/apartments to start the fall semester.  Mira began her reign as an only child.  

It's been a long journey since finding my lump over 21 months ago.  I'm not completely done with all my treatments,  I'm still experiencing my fair share of side effects, and I know I'll never be able to not think about recurrence.  But I've also come a long way and that's something pretty important to remember. Perhaps it was best summed up by Dr. Sterkin's response when I asked if I could run, bike, do sit-ups...  He said, "You are free to do any of those things.  It's time for you to start living your life normally again and put all of this behind you."  And that's exactly what I plan to do!

Shower = heaven

I saw Dr. Sterkin yesterday for my 10-day follow-up and to get my right side drain out.  Hooray!  That meant I could shower today, and I did.  It was the best shower ever.  :)  Seriously, if you want to feel absolutely amazing, just go 11 days without showering or washing your hair and then shower.  Instant anti-depressant!

I was even able to work two hours yesterday afternoon.  Two hours was almost enough time to get through my emails from missing 8 1/2 days of work.  It felt really good to be back.

The guidelines to recover from this surgery are pretty intense.  And they've made me more than a little cranky.  In addition to not being able to resume exercise for 8 weeks, I can't reach above my head, or sleep on my side, and I have to wear Spanx so that the uneven fat harvested from my belly settles evenly and not in furrows, like it is now.   I also need a firm, supportive bra to insure that my breasts don't end up all lumpy, too. Seriously, I cannot imagine why anyone would choose elective cosmetic surgery like this.  I'm second-guessing my own vain-ness in wanting reconstructed breasts instead of just going with prostheses.  I would have been "done" a long time ago.  I also just learned that there's not anyone in the area who does nipple tattoos (Dr. Sterkin only does them in combination with nipple reconstruction, which I am NOT doing), so if that's what I want (a 3D nipple tattoo like here or here), I'll have to travel.  Probably also have to pay for it, as opposed to having insurance cover it if I did nipple reconstruction, too.  As someone close to me said, "it comes down to how much you want to pay for nipples that I'm assuming only a handful of people will ever see."  Guess it's time to really think about what else I could/should get tattooed there.  And to search for a good tattoo artist...

As for now, I have all my stitches out (just steri-strips left) and I'm packed into Spanx like a sausage.  But I dare say I smell quite a bit better.  :)