6-Month Check Up Time

As we prepare to close the doors on May, and merrily dance through to June -- I must be a teacher, or something!! -- I notice an unsightly number of doctor visits penned in on my calendar. The dreaded 6-month check up point has reared its ugly head to remind me I'm a cancer survivor. Admittedly, marching alongside the looming appointments is a level of fear and trepidation -- one's nerves would have to be made of steel for this not to be the case.

Least stressful will be my visit with Dr. M, my plastic surgeon. Although I only deserve a bare pass as a grade because of my minimal adherence to the massage instructions to help my implant drop into place, my incision looks fantastic. Good 'ole Mr. Mondor and his lovely "cord" continue to reek havoc with my stomach-sleep and reaching up on top shelves but, in general, all is well in the reconstruction department.

This will be the last in a long series of check-ups with Dr. C, my radiation oncologist, in Kelowna. Always personable, he takes the time to chat about the rest of my life, not just the slightly-red rectangle that has taken up residence over my right chest. Yes, I'm anticipating a wee bit of a lecture because of the golden-brown hue that always starts to develop as I soak up the therapeutic rays of the sun. "Limit your sun exposure!", is Dr. C's non-stop mantra, and I respond with "Ya, ya, ya", like any other post-lecture child.

Lastly, I will traipse into the office of Dr. P, my Kamloops oncologist. This is the visit I dread the most. Pleasant and kind, Dr. P is also the epitome of thoroughness both with questions and physical exams. This quality leaves my brain in a quandary of polar opposites -- the yin and yang of post-cancer check-ups. The dark, negative yin holds onto fear, dread, and "what if's"; yet the light, positive yang is reassured and breathes a sigh of relief that any further cancer would be caught early and stopped dead in its tracks.

I'm anticipating a day when each and every twinge or pain does NOT bring the instant, "Is it back??" question.

I'm anticipating a day when cancer's walk through my life will be such a faint memory that it could almost be erased like footprints in the wet sand ...

  

Cords of Discomfort

For the past several weeks, I have been experiencing a fair bit of discomfort when reaching up over my head with my right arm -- the same side that is lacking a natural breast. Initially, I attributed my soreness to having pushed too hard to complete push-ups or planks during morning workout, or perhaps over-jiggling during a run. However, the stretching and pulling sensation continued to worsen until I made an astonishing discovery last weekend. I actually have what feels like a cord or rope right under the surface of my skin running from under my breast to my waist.

It does seem rather unfair that, just when I contemplate settling down to "normal" life, another complication arrives to shatter my world, rather like the proverbial pie-in-the-face.

Why didn't my plastic surgeon inform me that a common complication following any breast surgery is something called "cording" or "Mondor's disease"?? Mondor's disease is the inflammation, thrombosis and fibrosis of small veins, caused when veins are cut while making the incisions necessary for reconstruction of the breast.

While googling, "Why do I appear to have a rope under my skin??", most websites showed gruesome pictures of "cords" running through the armpit after lymph node removal following a mastectomy. Thank heaven I didn't experience that! It took a bit more perseverance to locate information about cording starting under the breast and heading south.

The receptionist at Dr. M's office wasn't surprised at all when I described my symptoms to her, and confirmed that it is indeed Mondor's disease. She suggested massage, warm compresses, and ibuprofen. I've tried to remember the massage part, and it does help quite a bit. Being a stomach sleeper, the worst pain happens when I roll onto my stomach while asleep and reach my arm up to cushion my head. That pain is intense enough to wake me up.

Apparently, the cordS -- yes, I have two now -- should resolve themselves within one to six grueling months.

The pessimist in me begs the question, "What next??".

The optimist responds . . .

  

The Right Side of the Grass

After a marathon day on Thursday, I am pleased as punch to report that my mom's surgery went extremely well -- we got "best case scenario" results -- so far!

After reporting for duty at 6 a.m., my 86-year old, impatient mom, couldn't understand why we were still sitting in chairs in the surgery waiting room at 6:10. Thankful that I had so recently been the patient, I explained to her that the medical system is often a "hurry up and wait" situation. (If I had a dime for every hour I "waited" for a medical appointment or procedure, we could ALL retire!) By 8 a.m., after paperwork, gowning up, and a talk with the surgeon, mom was being wheeled away to the OR.

In the unusual position of not being the patient, I was quite out of sorts, both because of my new job description -- read, wait, pace, pray, read, worry, pray some more -- but also since I couldn't really seem to focus on any task, expectantly wanting, yet not wanting, my cell phone to ring. At least I found a gorgeous garden (with extremely uncomfortable cement benches) in which to wait and contemplate life. The blazing sun was immensely therapeutic and I soaked up a few too many rays (sorry, Dr. Chowdhury -- I know I promised you I'd watch my sun exposure).

About 11, we got word that mom was out of the OR and in the recovery room. Maureen, who had toddled off to do a few errands, returned and we headed up to the now-crowded waiting room. Since Maureen has worked at the Trail hospital for many decades, she is well known in the building. Unofficial reports via nurses she knew were that mom had done well in the operating room, and would be 1-2 hours in recovery. At the 3 hour mark, we began to worry that things were going south. I even joked about signing mom up for the paraplegic basketball team if the epidural had gone wrong. At the 4 hour mark, Maureen asked a nurse to go investigate and, shortly after, mom was wheeled down the hallway to her room.

Groggy, incoherent, and frail, Mom had made it through step 1 of her battle -- removing a large cancerous tumour, several lymph nodes, and several blood vessels. Unfortunately, my dad did not understand that mom's condition was a result of anesthetic and, when I brought him to the hospital later in the afternoon, convinced himself she was dying. Thankfully, she was perkier and more talkative when we visited yesterday, reassuring dad that she is on the road to recovery.

The Good News

Dr. L performed the hemicolectomy and was able to reattach the ends of the bowel once the tumour was removed, so mom does not have a colostomy (and the accompanying "poop" bag). She will be closely monitored for leakage and infection, but so far, so good. Fingers crossed!

The Bad News

Unfortunately, the surgeon told Maureen yesterday that several of the removed lymph nodes were filled with cancer as well. He did his best to remove every node that was visibly cancerous (and likely a few extra ones to be sure). Because of mom's advanced age, they will not likely recommend chemo or other treatment of any kind. Even if they did, I would advise her against it because I don't want six months of her quality of life down the tubes because of side effects.

All-in-all, we couldn't have asked for a better outcome so far. Mom is still on the right side of the grass, is keeping the nurses on their toes, and is as feisty as ever. Just more reassurance that God answers prayer!

"Mom"s the Word

For all you fellow moms out there, I hope you put your feet up, read your favourite book, drink a glass of really good wine, and get showered with love.

This year, the approach of Mother's Day has birthed some interesting contemplations for me.

On the one hand -- it is my first Mother's Day since having met my birth mom. Try picking out a Mother's Day card with the right sentiments for this situation -- not easy! Perhaps I should moonlight as a card-creator for Hallmark :) I am so incredibly thankful, blessed, and appreciative to have her in my life.

My birth mom, Evelyn.
Thank you for giving me life, and
for accepting me into your life at 54!

When I met Mom, I was in my "wig" phase.

There's no hair (of my own) on that head of mine.

On the other hand -- I will be the first one to admit that I am very worried about my mom's impending surgery for her bowel cancer. We finally have a surgery date of this coming Thursday, May 15th. The thought of my 86-year-old mom not making it out of the OR seems to make this Mother's Day especially important. I want there to be no trace of a doubt in my mom's mind as to the depth of my love. Even though no DNA fingerprint was stealthily passed between the two of us; even though we have no common blood coursing through our veins; the bond between us has always been so close -- inexplicably close! Unfortunately, when we recently discovered that we have another unwanted bond -- a cancer diagnosis -- that brought us closer than ever.  In fact, many times this week, I have thought that maybe I had cancer just to reassure mom as her surgery approaches.

My Forever Mom, Elizabeth.

Thank you for teaching me to love, to accept,

and for giving me a safe place to fall

for the past 55 years!

Two moms!! I am so blessed!

Boogie Mimics Battling Cancer

Looking back at my Boogie training and race day, it is uncanny how many similarities there were to my battle with cancer.

Without training, I may have been able to successfully drag myself across the 5 km finish line, but with hopes of running most of the 10 km course, many hours of training were necessary. Similarly, being a cancer survivor did not come without "putting in my time"... hours and hours sitting with the Drano dripping into my veins, and laying stone-still while the radiation rays burned stray cancer cells ... both were mandatory to succeed.

One or two blocks in along the race route, loneliness seemed to envelope me, wrapping me in a black blanket of desolation. How could I possibly feel so isolated while running among 2500 people? Missing my comfort zone of running with Ashcroft RUNClubbers, I continuously scanned the crowd for familiar faces, to no avail. Plodding along, I endeavoured to cast my loneliness to the back burner and focus solely on my goal -- finishing! While struggling along this invasive journey, I had many solitary moments yearning for company. Sometimes, I was even surrounded by family and friends, but they felt just out of arms reach, as if our fingertips couldn't quite touch.

Just as David, Esther, and Kate cheered me along on my 10 km amble, I also had lots of support and many cheerleaders during my illness. Still, no one could do this for me -- I had to decide to "roar" myself. It was my feet that crossed the 10 km finish line, and it had to be my feet that crossed the finish line to "survivorhood". 

Katy Perry's "Roar" first stamped a place on my heart while taking part in the "Survivor's Parade" after "Run for the Cure" in October. However, it wasn't until I put it on my playlist for Boogie day that I really listened to all the lyrics. They truly do epitomize both my training and health sojourn.


Now I’m floating like a butterfly
Stinging like a bee I earned my stripes
I went from zero, to my own hero

You held me down, but I got up
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground
You held me down, but I got up
Get ready ’cause I’ve had enough
I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire
‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me ROAR
Louder, louder than a lion
‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me ROAR

If you want to be inspired by hearing Katy sing "Roar", here's a link ROAR

Boogie Photos

After I published the post about "Boogie The Bridge", I realized that my family supporters did take a few photographs and I forgot to include them with my post.

Here they are ...

Anxiously waiting for things to get rolling.

Part of the mob of 2500 waiting near the start line.

If you look really close, you will see a white hat just about

exactly in the middle of the photo ... me!

At about the 7 km mark,

where Kate and Esther were cheering me on.

Getting a huge hug from Jo Berry,

my RUNClub coach, at the finish line.

Thanks, Jo, for your coaching

and inspiration!!

Memories of an amazing day :) 

"Boogie the Bridge"

This past Sunday morning, the training and anticipation were finally over. "Boogie The Bridge" day had arrived. I made sure to be filled up on carbs the night before, got a good night's sleep, and was raring to go in the morning.  Unfortunately, the initial plans for Kate to run with me could not be carried out. She had had an encounter with some looped carpet and a steep flight of stairs, resulting in a purple and blue left foot, ballooned to twice its natural size.


Once parked in Kamloops, we made the trek to the pandemonium on Kamloops' main downtown street ... AKA 2500 people attempting to get organized to race. After locating the "Coach Trill" tent and my fellow RUNClubbers, my focus was 100% on running. As with any event involving a large number of people, it seemed to take an eternity to actually get going. First were the half-marathoners (I might be one of these someday!); next was "Mini Boogie", a 1 km race for the kids. Eventually, the 10 km racers were asked to line up. Unfortunately, I had somehow lost most of my teammates and there was only myself and one other woman from our team anywhere in sight. Because of the huge mob of people behind me, there was no way I could backtrack to find my team.


Torn because of this predicament, Nicole and I set out from the start line together. However, she is considerably faster than me, and I encouraged her to just go run her race. At about the one km mark, I was already questioning WHY did I want to do this to myself?? My only choice was to focus, shut out the discouraging voices in my head that wanted me to give up, and put one plodding foot in front of the other. I found great inspiration in the sidewalk chalk messages that adorned every metre of the 10 km (and probably 21 km) route.


I decided not to stick to our usual strict cycles of running and walking. Rather, I ran and ran and ran as far as I possibly could, and then would walk for a short time of a minute or less.  Just when I would be thinking I couldn't go on any further, there would be another band playing uplifting music, or a random family sitting in lawn chairs cheering as we went by. Seeing and hearing Esther and Kate screaming, "Go Mom!" at the 7 km mark definitely got a few more kilometres out of me -- well, that, in addition to the energy gel pack Kate had advised I tuck in my waistband and down at the 5-6 km mark :)


I knew I was nearing the finish line when I saw David videoing me from the sidelines. He ran a few hundred metres with me, encouraging me that I was just about there, and then let me cross the finish line alone. A huge hug from Jo, our RUNClub coach, greeted me as I crossed the finish line.

I DID IT!!!

I didn't "win" anything ...

     I wasn't the fastest ...



          I wasn't the slowest ...
               But I did beat my previous personal best time for 10 km by a considerable margin, completing the 10 km in 1 hour, 11 minutes. Extremely slow by some standards, but a HUGE accomplishment to me!


If you're curious to watch the TV coverage of Boogie, here's a link "Boogie the Bridge"