The Pink Veneer

Save the ta-tas! Hooray for the hooters! Do you have breast cancer? Congratulations, it appears you’ve joined the it crowd. Step right up and claim your seat at the cool kids table. An invitation to a variety of splendid social events is now yours.

The reality of a breast cancer diagnosis is not adorable, exciting, or pink. It’s dark, lonely, and miserable. The sudden realization that you are vulnerable comes as a shock. Cancer is ugly. It beats you down, even if you focus on staying positive. Fatigue rules the day. Surgery is difficult – scars remain. Chemo is in a toxic class of its own. Unpleasant side effects manifest – some linger. Radiation is a daily burn.

It’s a scheduling nightmare to juggle doctors’ appointments, treatment times, and babysitters’ availability, without dropping the ball. It means working on days you feel like quitting. When you hit a wall, it requires placing your pride on the back burner in order to reach out and plead for a little help. It’s trying to put on a happy face, so the kids don’t get scared.

The entire experience is an all-consuming emotional drain. It’s even hard to hear well-meaning people exclaim that they are glad you are “all done with that,” as damage to your body and psyche lingers.     

Happy to be alive? Without question. Ever be the same? Never. Are you ready to tie on your pink ribbon and head back to the party?

"Chemo Counseling"

The cancer center killed a great number of trees in order to make sure I understand what is about to happen to me next week. I'm all awash in paperwork! I have sheets that explain each drug, consent forms, maps, fliers and a handy new folder to add to my growing collection of folders full of informative medicalese. Thank goodness I like to read!

However, because I've been doing my homework I was not surprised by anything I learned in my chemo counseling session this week. For those facing chemo, I would highly recommend "The Chemotherapy Survival Guide" by Judith McKay, RN, OCN and Tamera Schacher, RN, OCN, MSN. It is chock full of invaluable information so you can go into the chemo with your eyes wide open. It isn't a scary book, if you enjoy being informed.

They cover everything from how chemo actually works and understanding your treatment plan to understanding blood tests and all possible ways to deal with potential side effects. It is easy to understand and written by people who know...the oncology nurses! We all know nurses are awesome (just ask my Mom)! :)

I don't feel excited about starting my 10 cycles of chemo next week, I feel apprehensive. But, I do not feel afraid. I feel that I know all that I can at this point and the unknowns cannot be known so I cannot worry about that. I have given it to God, set up a good babysitter for Jayce, will have my husband by my side and the prayers of many lifting me up!

"39 and NOT holding!"

"It's your birthday! It's your birthday!" I was singing that part in case that wasn't clear! Well, I don't know if it is your birthday, but it is mine and I'm really happy about it! Usually, as you get older the birthday takes on less meaning and you rather hope that not much attention is brought to it. Since I'm turning 39 today I'm supposed to start going with the "39 and holding" saying. But, I'm throwing that line of thought into the trash!

It's amazing how your perspective can change based on life events. When I was pregnant with my now 12-month-old, I was like Grandma Moses having a baby! I was constantly seeing paperwork with "advanced maternal age' printed on it. Now that I have breast cancer, suddenly I'm young again! I am constantly told by doctors, nurses and other breast cancer survivors how young I am! Well, it is good to be young again!

So, there will be no "39 and holding" for me! Bring on 40! I will be happy to see it and 50, 60, 70, 80 and 90 too (if I should be so lucky)!

"Dancing with the Red Devil"

When the course of chemotherapy drugs you are prescribed is nicknamed the "Red Devil" that does not inspire excitement about getting started! The first six cycles will include the drugs Adriamycin (Doxorubicin) and Cytoxan (Cyclophosphamide) also called "AC" for short. This is not an uncommon regimen for people with breast cancer.

It is the Adriamycin that is the "Red Devil" and I'm not sure why other than it is red in color, it burns if it touches the skin (which it shouldn't do), and has a list of "possible" side effects so long you'd need a scroll to write them all out. Of course, all the drugs have this side effect laundry list.

The likelihood of having no side effects isn't great, but the possibility of having many is also slim. I know there will be some, but which ones? Well, we know I'll be going bald so count that as one! Everything else is uncertain. So, I plan to dance with the Red Devil with my tap shoes on (because that seems positive)! Also, those little pieces of metal on the bottom might help me kick the crap out of it before it kicks the crap out of me!

"Cancer With Bad Juju"

It's time to nail down a plan. That's what I hoped for as I visited my medical oncologist for the second time today. First, he said my heart is "robust" (according to the gated heart scan I recently had - also known as MUGA scan). Second, the PET scan I had showed nothing bad! Third, he said my cancer had bad "juju." Is that a highly technical medical term? He also called it some other nasty names.

This is where the chemo plan comes in. Door number three (the bad juju) means aggressive, heavy duty chemo. Those are my Doctor's terms, not mine. My excitement is starting to build (insert sarcasm)!

Chemo treatments will begin in two weeks! I used an exclamation point in hopes that it would make me feel excited and less bummed about the fact that they will drag on for nearly seven months. I don't think it worked, yet. I will have 10 cycles. That's once every 21 days, unless something causes a delay. Such as certain low blood counts or me just not showing up! Okay, okay, I'll show up. I'll even try to be brave! I have too because everyone keeps telling me how strong I am. I never thought of myself that way, but maybe I'll start to believe it too!

"Is My Heart Ready for Chemo?"

I was back in nuclear medicine again. This time, to see if I have a heart. Okay, it was really to see how my heart pumps. I'm pretty sure there was a heart in there (they didn't tell me otherwise)! I had my MUGA scan (Multiple Gated Acquisition scan) which produces a "movie" of the moving heart.

There is a chemo drug (that I might be given) called Adriamycin (generic name – doxorubicin) and a serious problem with this drug is that it can cause heart failure. Yep, I would call that a really serious problem! So, it is important to make sure you have a healthy heart before considering this as one of the chemo drugs in the cocktail.

The medical oncologist will take these results and the PET scan results into consideration when I see him again next week to decide what my chemo treatment plan should be. It's scary. I don't think about it much, but when the time comes I know I'll need a hand to hold. Until then, I keep it in the back of my mind and go about my days as normally as I can (with lots of visits to the cancer center thrown in). But, those visits are becoming part of my "normal."

"Clinical Trial Guinea Pig"

Clinical trials make me think of lab rats and last resorts for patients with no other options. I've come to learn that many clinical trials are not like that at all. However, it doesn't mean I want to be a guinea pig!

My cancer center is trying to recruit me into a chemotherapy clinical trial. It was confusing at first, but what I understand is that they are trying to determine best outcomes between two already well-known standard treatments. The trial is only for women with "high risk" cancer (aggressive variety like mine) and are Her2 negative (which I am).

While I understand the point of such research and support it. I'm not sure it is right for me. Participants are "randomized" into two different groups. So, the trial (not the doctor) decides exactly which treatment is given. While I have been assured that either treatment would be "gold standard" for me, I still feel apprehensive.

I understand that altruism is defined as the opposite of selfishness. I am interested in the future welfare of others and I do not want to be selfish. However, since this is MY fight against breast cancer, I feel strongly that I'd like the doctor to be the one to decide exactly what chemo treatment is right for me (not a computer). So, I struggle to decide because I feel the pull in both directions.

"Most Popular Patient Ever!"

At the end of my chemo treatment, my radiation treatments will get underway. I may get a two week break, like a treatment-free vacation! I just had my first appointment with my radiation oncologist. It looks like we'll be hanging out for about six weeks (30 treatments).

I'll be glad to see him again! It will mean that things are winding down and there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. I just might be able to see it by then! Plus, as a bonus, he promised to tell me a joke a day.

According to him, I also have the unique opportunity to become the most popular patient ever after it was revealed that I work for Hershey and do have access to samples! Hey, a joke plus winning the popularity contest...what a deal!

"The big "C"...Chemo!"

I know cancer is supposed to have the honorary title of the "The Big C" but I am reassigning that moniker to chemo instead. I met with my medical oncologist for the first time and I kind of expected a mad scientist with crazy white hair ready to mix up some stinking toxic potion (possibly in a cauldron)! While a little of that toxic part might be true, he was nothing like that! He seemed smart, capable and compassionate (except for when he said I couldn't keep my hair)!

We don't have a complete plan yet. I have to see him again in two weeks. In the meantime, I will be getting a PET scan, a MUGA scan and some more lab work. The MUGA scan takes a look at the health of your heart (because some - one in particular - chemo drugs can be hard on the heart).

It looks like I'll be starting the treatments in early to mid-September and I can plan on dedicating about five months of my life to it. I'll know more after "chemo class" which comes before treatments start. I hope I earn a good grade! ;)

"PET Scan...Has Nothing To Do With Our Cat"

Nice Nurse Nancy called today to let me know that my "case" had been presented by my surgeon at the cancer center's multi-disciplinary conference. This is when everyone (from pathologists and oncologists to radiologists and surgeons) come together to discuss the patients under their care. It is nice to know that everyone gets on the same page and doesn't just read a chart!

The medical oncologist I will see for the first time next week was there and said he wanted a PET scan ordered to check for metastasis. This is when cancer sneaks away from the tumor and decides to go hang out somewhere else in your body, not a good deal! Nurse Nancy assured me it wasn't because he thought this would be the case, but rather because my tumor was aggressive and because of my young age.

So, once again I have another trip to the cancer center on my calendar and a reminder that I'm not even close to being done with all this.

"A Holding Pattern"

I feel like a car that has been parked in the garage. I haven't been out much since my surgery. I've been to the doctor and to church this past Sunday. I dusted off the cobwebs and took a walk around the neighborhood because the weather was so nice yesterday. I pushed Jayce in the stroller while Kaylee lapped me on her scooter. Everything I have read tells me that exercise helps with everything, but after 30 minutes of pushing that stroller up my hilly streets I wasn't sure what it was helping!

I'm happy that my surgical pathology report was such a good one, but I wish the surgical site would hurt less. I don't want to be a wimp about it, but I thought it would feel better than this by now. It has improved, I try to remind myself. While I cope with the end of step one, my mind wanders to next step.

I'm back in a holding pattern, not knowing what to expect once again. Next week, I have appointments with the medical oncologist and the radiation oncologist. I guess I will find out more about the plan at that point or I may face more tests first. I just don't know, but I do know that I don't feel ready to take on the unknown of chemo. I think I'll just stay in the garage a little longer, it really isn't that bad in here.

"Prepare for New Hair"

Since I am healing from surgery and Chemotherapy looms, I decided to be proactive and start taking a look at wigs. I want to be ready when my G.I. Jane moment comes. My Mom and I stopped by the cancer center gift shop to ask for ideas about where to look for a good wig. We were told by the nice lady volunteer that we had to look no further than right where we stood. I looked around and saw about five wigs on styrofoam heads, lots of hats and little gift items and sighed inside.

We followed her supervisor to a door that said "fitting room" and went inside. It was like an entire private wig shop! I've certainly never seen so many styrofoam heads in one place! I told the lady I wasn't ready to do all this right now, I just wanted to get ideas. She responded by asking if I lived in Boone County. I said I did and thought it was a strange question. Then I was blessed! She happily informed me that they have a grant from the Komen Foundation that allows them to give any Boone County resident with breast cancer a FREE wig and supplies! I was floored! What a wonderful gift. Just one more financial piece of the puzzle that we don't have to worry about!

So we went to work on finding the new hair that was "me." It turned out I liked the first one I tried, we just worked our way through some different colors until I knew we had the right one. It really looks amazing! She took my soon-to-be new hair, the super important foam head, the supply kit (did you know they even make wig hairspray?), and a wig brush and bagged it all up. I walked out with nearly $200 worth of stuff that will make me feel better about myself in the weeks to come and I learned that Komen is more than just pink ribbons.

"The Home Run of Good News!"

For the first time since my surgery, I left the house! Now, before you start thinking that a post-op visit with the surgeon isn't exciting, let me correct your thinking! It was the most exciting thing I've done in quite some time, because she had nothing to give me but good news!

The final lab report was so positive, I may have to frame it! She got the entire tumor out with "clean margins" (that's important in case you don't know about such things), all five lymph nodes that were removed tested negative for cancer! That means no cancer had spread! Also, the cancer had not made its way into the blood stream even at the site of the tumor!

My entourage (Mom and Husband) and I were practically standing up and cheering like we were at a ball game and someone had hit a home run! Someone pass the peanuts!

"The Pit of Self-Pity"

Have you ever seen the pit of self-pity? Well, if you stand on the edge, squint your eyes and take a look down there you might notice that it is dark, dirty and has slimy sides. The slimy sides make it really hard to climb out of in case you should fall in. That's why I am doing everything I can to make sure I don't lose my footing and journey down that slippery slope!

I am combating the pit of self-pity with a support book. Early on, I was afraid that I might forget about all the people who love me and are praying for me. What if I wake up one morning and decide that nobody cares and start the slide? I am determined not to do that!

In case my short-term memory needs a boost, I bought a notebook. Yep, just the plain old back-to-school kind. I keep a log of every person who has touched me in a supportive way. I list the date, the person's name and what they did (whether it was send an e-mail, a supportive message on Facebook, a private message on Facebook, a card in the mail, flowers, gift, phone call or even a phone message)! It all counts! I also bought an expandable folder to hold any cards that I might receive so I can easily look at them. Now I am equipped to fight back just in case my mind tries to be sneaky and pull me over to the edge of that old pit. I won't fall in. I will grab my book and remember exactly why that pit is not the place for me!

"Sore, Tired and Recovering"

I'm sore! I'm tired! I'm laying around in my PJ's! Yesterday was a long day. We didn't get home from the hospital until about 6:00 p.m. Sleeping was fine, until I woke up with pain. I want to shake the hand of the person that invented pain pills (and I'm not talking about whiskey).

I have about three ugly marks on the my left side where the chest port was placed. Oh, it felt nice when Jayce accidentally slapped it (note to self: do not bend down so close to 11 month old)! I have my most painful incision under my right arm where the three lymph nodes were removed. I haven't seen the rest, it is all bandaged up and has to stay that way until Wednesday when I see the surgeon.

On the up side, I couldn't have had a nicer surgeon, nurses and other hospital personnel. It went just as smooth as it could have.

Also, I couldn't have a nicer family! Mom and Dad are taking care of the house and the kids while I rest. I got several nice phone calls, a gift from a friend, flowers from my daughter to brighten my day and another flower delivery from my Aunt and Uncle and Grandpa and Grandma. When you feel sore and cruddy, it is nice to feel loved!

"Kill the Cancer, Step 1"

It's finally time to start killing the cancer! I wish I felt more excited about it. It's surgery day! See, that doesn't quite have the same ring to it as "It's free pizza day!" Oh, don't get me wrong, I can't wait to get cancer out of my body (of course, free pizza would be nice too).

I will start the day at 7:45 a.m. (quite late in the medical world!) at the cancer center where they will do a pre-op procedure called "needle localization." They tell me it is much like a biopsy. The idea is to put a long, thin needle into the breast and stab that tumor so the surgeon has a nice guide to the spot on which to operate. Then, they will kindly tape down the part sticking out as I make my way over to the hospital for the surgery.

The actual surgery is supposed to take place at 10:30 a.m., but I'll be busy doing all those fun little things they do to get you ready! I can't wait to get the paper gown! I'm even more excited about the I.V. (okay, okay, I know I keep whining about this).

Once surgery is underway, they will do a sentinel node biopsy (remove some nodes to check for cancer spread into the lymph nodes), then remove the actual tumor and surrounding normal tissue, and while we are at it she is going to install a chest port to be used for my Chemo. All in all, it sounds like...well, to be honest it sounds like what has been keeping me up at night. So, I can't wait for this day to be over! I also don't want it to be over because that means I have to recover and move to the next treatment phase (which I also lose sleep over). Just being honest.

"Role Reversal"

Mom used to clean, cook and do the laundry when I was growing up in her house. She has continued that trend even without me there! However, when she comes to my house and does those things it feels weird!

It happened the first time almost one year ago when my second baby was born. We don't have any family in the area and we tried to work her time off around our best guess of actual birth. So, the baby came about a week before she got here. I called and told her to please hurry because I was floundering! SOS!

The very next month (thanks to that precious baby) I had to have my gallbladder removed (don't worry Jayce, I won't hold the gallstones against you)! She came back for a few days to watch the newborn and help around the house after my surgery.

So, I feel odd having to need her in this role again! You'd think I'd be the one needed to take care of her during some ailment instead! This seems backwards! Not that I think of her as "old" because I don't, but I don't think I am either! So what's the deal!

I don't really know, but I do know that I am thankful she and Dad are here today. I hope it is the last time they come for this type of reason. I want to go back to planning meals and cooking for them and taking them to fun places in town. While I'm glad Mom is here to go with me to a pre-op appointment today, I do not count hanging out at the cancer center as a visit to a "fun place in town!" Well, unless we get a chance to drop by the gift shop!

"Breast Cancer on the Back Burner!"

On August 10, my baby turns one! I won't go into how the time flew by, because we all know that it did! My plan was to pile the family into the SUV and head to Tulsa (where everyone in our whole family - with the obvious exception of us - lives)! It is very important to me that we all be together to celebrate this milestone. Sadly, breast cancer had other ideas.

Well, I have outsmarted that stupid cancer! I started calling family members, plopped invitations in the mail immediately, had Mom reschedule the date for our party location and made a quick trip to the party store! We are moving this good time up a couple of weeks and making it happen!

Tonight, I will push breast cancer to the back of my mind and enjoy my baby, my family and all the good energy I will get from being able to see everyone before the big "C" tries to take over my days for a while. I will be able to hold Jayce, take pictures, eat cake and laugh while I'm still feeling great! Hopefully, by the time I plan his second birthday party, we will be more concerned about picking a theme, the right balloons and the perfect cake while cancer will be a thing of the past!

"Swimming in Surgical Options"

Today was the day. I had been dreading it and looking forward to it. I want a game plan and I want no part of this process. It was our third meeting with the surgical oncologist and all test results were in, biopsies and MRIs accomplished, and surgical recommendations on the table.

I didn't like it one bit. There was so much to think about and too many options! There could be a lumpectomy (also known as partial mastectomy) followed by radiation, a mastectomy was offered without radiation (with or without reconstruction surgery), or a double mastectomy (with or without reconstruction). My head is swimming in the pool of options and trying to determine what is right for me?

The tumor (aggressive, as she keeps reminding me) was a little bigger than first thought putting it between a stage 1 and stage 2 for size. Still early she reassured me.

Right now, I feel like I am overwhelmed with information. I will talk, read, pray and hopefully make the right decision.

"Support Groups are for Sissies, Right?"

'Hello, my name is Jennifer and I have breast cancer.' I waited for the applause or maybe the supportive murmurs. Okay, that isn't what really happened, but it might have been what I was expecting! I wasn't sure what I was walking into when I decided I would show up for the local breast cancer support group.

I had been reading books and articles about breast cancer and what to expect. Many extolled the virtues of the support group. One line stuck right out...many who would benefit the most from a support group never seek one out. OH! What if that is me? That's it, I better find one! I hoped that didn't make me weak or needy, but I thought I'd just see what it was like and go from there.

What I found was a group of ladies who had "been there, done that" and were willing to spend their own time to guide and support newbies like me. I also met another newbie who was just one year my junior. We even have the same surgeon. I hope we'll be able to help each other too.

When they passed around a sign-in sheet, I wrote my name and noticed everyone had checked the box under "cancer survivor." I hesitated and it was noticed. I was told "you are surviving it now, that makes you a survivor." I checked the box!

Not a sissy in the bunch, only survivors!