Peeling Skin 101

When I had my final check-up with the radiation oncologist, he told me to expect my skin to continue to darken for 7-10 days.  He also informed me that in order to expose the new, fresh skin underneath, the radiated skin would have to peel.  In my arrogance, due to the fact that my skin had done extremely well -- both in my estimation and by the opinion of my therapists -- I thought that neither of these two things would happen.

WRONG!!!

It amazes me how these careful, precise radiation rays ultimately drew a mathematically-correct parallelogram on my chest, complete with four 90 degree corners. Each day I have been home, I have watched the radiated area blossom into a lobster-red, perfect rectangle. Ever the diligent one, I continued with my Lubriderm lotion, adding in some Vitamin E oil which the doc said should minimize the eventual brown rectangle.  [Actually, now that I think about it, the only place the brown rectangle would ever be seen outside of my home is a doctor's office or a topless beach. So many doctors have seen so much of me, I could care less any more.  And, I'm not in the habit of gracing topless beaches, so .........] But, I'll continue on with the Vitamin E just because I'm sure it's also a great moisturizer.

The first portion of my rectangle to peel was my armpit.  The radiated area goes half way up my right armpit, and it is quite amusing to gaze in the mirror at a half-white, half-red armpit.  Due to rubbing shirts and skin-against-skin, the radiated skin started to peel away, thwarting my plans to start using antiperspirant again. It is presently a beautiful crimson colour, with peeling edges that I try to keep my fingers off! [I was going to include photos, but considered them a bit too graphic!]

The next portion to peel is where the band of my sports bra rubs under my chest. It has grown in size to be about 6" long and 2" wide and is ultra-painful when I wear any kind of bra. So, in a throw-back to my teenage-hood in the 70's, I've become a braless hippie chick -- at least when I'm in the confines of my house. I slather vast amounts of lotion or aloe gel on my 10" x 12" rectangle, throw on a comfy T-shirt with sleeves and call it my new "at home" look.

The dilemma I'm presently facing is -- if the skin has to and should peel, am I better off to let it happen, or should I be keeping up my present regime trying to stop the peeling skin in its tracks? My research continues -- I'll let you know!

Looking Back at the Last Week of Radiation

It's Monday -- the day I usually make the trek back to Kelowna to endure another week of radiation. Not so today! What a delightful treat to be able to stay home.

The 28 radiation treatments flew by -- particularly the last week of them.  In the company of my dear friend, Julie from Trail, I filled the hours between treatments by planning school work, watching tear-producing movies, and recounting the many blessings bestowed on me during this journey. [This last point will be the topic of several posts in the very near future!!]

Wanting to leave a legacy of lives I've touched that I wouldn't have ordinarily encountered, it was my mission to be extra-friendly, extra-outgoing, and extra-joyful for this last week. On Thursday, I was delighted to be able to see Peter (tongue cancer) on his last treatment day, and give him and his wife huge hugs.  I will miss the sense of camaraderie with all these dear, precious people to whom it is so easy to chat and connect. My "Must Do" list now contains "Connect with a Support Group", even if it means driving to Kamloops once a week to attend. My first weeks and months after diagnosis were spent in relative isolation and, looking back, I do wish I had made more effort to take advantage of counselling groups that exist one short hour away.  Survivors and fellow patients offer a listening ear, common happenings, and success stories that are so important to bolster one's spirits.

As soon as I woke up on Friday, I had butterflies practicing somersaults in my stomach.  This giddy sense of excitement helped me haul numerous loads from trailer to car, and do a quick clean up before saying goodbye to my home-away-from-home.

Saying goodbye to the trailer!

Julie and I literally skipped from the car into the Cancer Agency, and I simply could not wipe the Cheshire Cat grin off my face. Thank you cards in hand, I gowned up and headed to the waiting room for the final time. No sooner was I comfortably settled in, but Chris said I had to report to the front desk for a message.  Off I went back down the hallway, and was handed THE MOST BEAUTIFUL bouquet of a dozen red roses with the sweetest note from David.

What a superb husband, eh??

Once I got over the shock of my "message", I spotted Jenny, my absolute favourite therapist, at "The Orchard" -- the treatment room directly across from mine. I had a card specifically for her, and peeked my head around the corner so I could hand it to her.  She came out to the waiting room to meet Julie, chat for a few minutes, and give me a hug. Jenny always made time to talk, answer questions, and get to know me. I will treasure that about her for a long, long time.

Getting a hug from Jenny

Jenny, I hope I see you again --
just NOT HERE!!

Christ and Carl gave me my final treatment, followed by going over the "Instructions for After Radiation".  I didn't realize that my skin can continue to get worse for about two weeks, and I need to keep up my diligent skin care, adding Vitamin E oil to reduce the life-long tanned-rectangle-look. After handing them a card for all "The Park" therapists, and getting hugs all around (YES -- even from Chris, and delivered with a smile) I walked out of the treatment room for the FINAL TIME!! Waiting for me on the other side of the 10" thick door were Jenny and Leanna (my other favourite therapist).  I was overwhelmed by the thought that they took time out from their work to make sure we got final hugs and goodbyes.

I hooted and hollered and "yahooed" my way down the hallway and out the door.  I didn't care who heard me or what they thought -- well, in fact, several patients in various waiting rooms joined right in with me :)

Roger, a fellow RV park resident whose wife is receiving treatment,
offers me congratulations.

DONE!!! I'M OUTTA HERE!

After an uneventful drive home and a laundry-filled afternoon, my evening was spent celebrating with three of my beautiful daughters and two dear friends. There may have been a wee bit of champagne consumed as well :)

CHEERS!!! 

Done!

More details and elaboration to follow but, for now, "Done!" pretty much sums it up!

Loving People ... Part Two

Loving People by ... Going Back to Work

Tuesday, September 3 marks the day that I will return to full-time teaching.  There was a bit of controversy over my return to work ... The short version of that story is that I was going to return part time (mornings only) for one month, and then go full time October 1. However, my school district wanted me to be a substitute teacher for the mornings, placing a full time person in my NEW position until I was ready to return full time. Any teacher knows, there is no more stressful position than being a substitute teacher, dealing with a different group of kids and different staff members every day.  I refused!!  After a return visit to my doctor with new medical forms in hand, I convinced her that working full time at my new position would be less stressful and an easier transition back to work than part time as a sub. After swearing on a stack of Bibles that I would take a sick day whenever I felt tired, I left with new forms in hand stating that I could start full time in September.

I LOVE MY JOB mainly because I LOVE the students! Going back to work in September will allow me the time, space, and opportunity to love people.

I heard this quote by Aristotle for the very first time today.  "Educating the heart", to me, starts with caring for the child and this is likely the part of working that I have craved the most. I live to make a difference in people's lives, and I yearn to be "back at it" by cultivating compassion in my new students.

One of the many very important lessons I have learned during the past 10 months is that I am not ready to retire! I NEED to return to work to alleviate boredom and maintain my mental health ... well either maintain or return to it :)

Even though my cancer journey has become my "new normal", I'm extremely anxious to return to my "former normal" ... AKA my routine life.  I thrive on routine -- it's where I can produce, accomplish, achieve.

Working is good for me ... and, hopefully, good for those around me that I get to love.

Loving People

Loving People by ... a Random Act of Kindness

My trip home on Friday will live on in my memory for quite some time. My car was all packed and ready to roll immediately after treatment and then brunch with Maureen (my sister) and Esther (my daughter).  Having not slept well the night before, I was setting out rather weary and by the time I was dropping down the hill into Merritt I was fearful my eyes might close.  While scanning the roadside for somewhere to pull over, I noticed a large group of cyclists and a support truck.  I assumed it was some kind of race or "ride for a cause".  Still in search of a stopping spot, I drove on -- more than slightly green with envy for the cyclists.  [Judy -- we must promise each other that next summer holds some kind of ride together, please!!] A few kilometres down the road, I spotted a truck brake check pull-out and decided it was a good place to stretch my legs and eat the cold leftovers Maureen had sent me home with.  As I stood eating, the support truck I had seen with the cyclists pulled in just ahead of me.  The truck's tailgate had a "Canadian Bible Society" sticker, no larger than 1 ft. x 1.5 ft., but it caught my eye.

I'm often the person who hears or feels that wee small voice inside my head or spirit that says, "Do this ...", and I am slow to respond.  Always the cautious one, I'm not a risk taker.  However, I'm learning from my children (Kate in particular), that random acts of kindness are an important part of life.  That wee small voice said, "Reach in your wallet, pull out a 20, and walk it over to that man." I listened!! As soon as the driver was finished checking his bike trailer, I walked up to him and asked if he was from the Canadian Bible Society.  His response was "Yes, these are 'Bike for Bibles' cyclists". After asking if he would accept a donation, I handed him the $20 and walked away to resume eating my lunch.  After a few moments' thought, he approached my car with tears rolling down his cheeks.  We spoke for several moments about the cycling trip, my challenging summer, and ended with huge hugs and 'God Bless You's.

This year's ride is raising money for trauma healing in Rwanda, helping women and children to recover from the effects of abuse, psychological trauma, and shattered families. (If you want any more info, here's a link to their website "Bike for Bibles")

Loving People by ... Seeing Friends

Yesterday, my afternoon was brightened by a short-but-very-sweet visit with two of my dearest friends; Cheryl - my trailer companion for weeks one and two, and Laura - the source of 99% of the motivational messages I have received over the past 10 months. Even though they were on their way to Victoria to attend a week-long course, they took the time to stop and say Hi.

I am so blessed to have a strong support network of family and friends who continually offer tremendous love, support, and a tender hand! Thank you, to ...

My husband, David.

Two of my daughters, and my son-in-law.
Kate, Rachel, and Stu.

My youngest daughter, Joy.

My daughter, Esther, with her best friend "May".

My stupendous older sister, Maureen
as we celebrate the end of week #5 of radiation.

My dear friend, Anne.

My superb trailer-companion and long-time friend, Cheryl.

My precious siblings, Charlotte and Kevin.

My fabulous friends of whom I have no recent picture, but are more than worthy of mention ...

     LAURA, JUDY, MOYA, JULIE, MIKE & LEE, COLETTE, VINA.

May you all be blessed with a wonderful day!  Look for an opportunity to do a random act of kindness :) 

21 Down, 7 to Go ... Then What??

"There is no age restriction with cancer.

You only have to be alive to grow it.

You only have to be dead to get away from it completely."

A direct quote from the back cover of a book recently mailed to me by a friend, (Thank you, Dina! for purchasing and starting the voyage of this Pass It Forward book. Thank you, Judy! for Passing It Forward to me!!) these few sentences pretty much sum up a reoccurring thought that I can't shake these days.  About half way through reading this "tilted memoir" by DebiLyn Smith, "Running from Cancer" recounts her journey as she travels the road called breast cancer.

What comfort and reassurance there is in reading another woman's struggles and emotions, as DebiLyn experiences many of my same roller-coaster excitements and griefs encountered along the way. This quote from the back of the book is particularly pertinent to my thinking over the last week.

Next Friday, August 16th, as I drive away from Kelowna for the final time -- well, the final time that is associated with radiation -- I will be alive.  Therefore, I will still possess the ability to "grow cancer". Quite possibly, according to statistics, I will have an even higher likelihood of growing it than my friends, family, co-workers, or you! What I don't want to do is bob and flounder aimlessly like flotsam and jetsam after a shipwreck. Yes, my body has lived through a wreck of sorts, but I aim to take control of my body AND mind.

My body -- well, I have grand plans of attending "Boot Camp" again in September, and forcing myself to get up for 6 a.m. workouts starting in October.  I will endeavour to continue with ultra-healthy eating habits even though my chief motivator (Kate) will have returned to school by then.

But ... it's my mind that is difficult to harness. Even now, as I lay in bed willing sleep to come, a plethora of questions float across my half-conscious mind ...
* Will I freak out at every small twinge and pain wondering if "It"s back?
* Will I be capable of shoving "It" to the back burner and getting on with life?
* Will I constantly wonder if I'm working hard enough, doing enough, praying enough to keep "It"
     at bay?
* Have I, and the medical system, done enough over the last 10+ months to annihilate
     the enemy completely?

I have a strong hunch that I'll have to keep you posted on the answers to all these wonderings as the next months unfold.  For now ...

Much love to you all today!!