Depression alert

Depression alert: the following is depressing, so if you're already depressed do not read. My cancer has ruined life as I knew it. I leave tomorrow for surgery #5. The pain is intense. The suck factor is major. Yet, I know I have blessings aplenty. It's just hard to see them through this cloud of tears. 

One thing I can tell you is that cancer really let's you sort the true friends from those who only pretend to care about you. Some 'friends' practically run screaming shortly after diagnosis. Some 'friends' are all sympathy & kindness while you're obviously ill & in treatment. The latter are the ones that cause the most pain. You come to rely on having these 'friends' in your corner, but heaven forbid your illness last longer than anticipated. Sadly I've found a few of these so-called 'friends' lately. It's even worse when these 'friends' kick you while you're down. These latter 'friends' are the ones who care when it's convenient for them or when it makes them look good. There are only two ways to keep these 'friends': have a text-book illness & recovery or die.

True friends are the opposite. They wait in the silence until you call on them. They give freely without thinking of the cost or what's in it for them. I've been blessed to have a good number of true friends. I am ashamed by my own lack of action towards some of these true friends. I hate to give excuses, but I have been so focused on my own recovery that I've let some of my true friends sit in the furthest corner of my mind. I think of these true friends when I get depleted of my will to fight. Just knowing there are true, wonderful people out there helps me cope. Thank you to my true friends. I'm sorry I've not been such a great friend back, but I promise that if/when I recover I will thank you to the best of mmy ability. For now you're in my prayers.

Anxiously waiting...

This weekend was great, but it was also awful. As I mentioned in my last post, I have begun the 2 week count-down and forced abstinence from almost all medications. Well, this weekend proved to be more than my poor arms, chest, and neck could stand. It's amazing to me that something so simple, like driving or hugging my children, can cause me so much pain. Not to mention that my amazingly healthy children weigh a ton (Simon is 45 lbs while Rachel is a dainty 30 lbs). Last night, I was hurting so badly that I finally broke down and took 1/2 of a muscle relaxer. The muscle relaxer isn't on the list of drugs to be avoided, but it is on a list of drugs that can lower immunity. My white blood cell levels from my oncology appointment on Oct 7 were low. Not low enough to bother Dr. M, but low enough to bother the surgeons at MD Anderson (I know this from my experience in July of 2010).

I've focused a lot on how I may look following this surgery, but looks are NOT the justification for this operation. Pain is the reason. I'm not talking about weekend-warrior-type pain. I'm talking about mind-numbing, excrutiating, debilitating pain. It's a bit difficult to describe, but I'll do my best. The first problem I reach is where to start??? Since I mentioned reaching, I'll start with my arms.

Bend your arms like you're going to do the chicken dance. Feel the area your thumb is pressing on? This area causes me a tremendous amount of pain that defies description. My 2.5cm (about an inch) diameter tumor was in that location on my left side. This area is where the pectoral muscle connects to the upper arm. These muscles, tendons, and ligaments are under a very thin layer of skin for me. There's no fatty tissue present to add a little cushion because my initial surgeon disected out the tumor with very little "margin" (under only spotty local anesthetic). However, the surgeon doing my mastectomy needed to ensure that all the cancerous cells were removed, so she took the "margins" on the left and a similar amount on the right. In other words, she took an extra inch or more of tissue surrounding my entire tumor area. This has left me with a visible "cave" -- the one on the left is deeper and more obvious, but the right is noticable to me as well. Due to my reconstruction surgeon's recommendations, I wear a brassiere 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. As most women know, the cups extend into your under-arm area, including that area where your muscles, tendons, and ligaments must flex. The combination of no cushion on these tissues and pressure from my brassiere on these same tissues causes a peculiar sensation to creep down my arm. On one hand, I want to say its kind of numb and tingly. However, on the other hand, something that's numb should never generate so much sensation. This feeling extends from my under-arm to my elbow all the way down to my ring and pinkie fingers (although sometimes my whole hand is affected). The best way for me to describe it is as hitting your "funny bone". Sometimes this pain is only present when I stretch my arm a certain way. Other times, like now, the sensation is fairly constant. The only variable is how much it hurts and how much of my hand is affected.

From my arms to my collar-bones is a short journey. This pain is probably the easiest to describe, yet the hardest to understand. I constantly feel as if my collar-bones are being pulled upon. Sometimes I can almost envision a set of fingers wrapped around each collar-bone trying to pull them from my chest. The implants I'm carrying around as breasts weigh about 2 lbs each. Two pounds may sound insignificant, but day in and day out the constant weight of 2 lbs can add up to pain -- especially when you consider that the only support these 2 lbs get is from my bra (causation of my arm pain) and/or the skin covering the implants. Unlike natural breasts (or foobs created by using a person's own tissue), implants are not attached to my chest wall or any other support structure. They are suspended primarily by skin and a very thin, stretched-out muscle layer. This constant weight causes pain that goes from tolerable to impossible any time I must lift or carry anything over a couple of pounds. Above I mentioned that neither of my children are under 30 lbs, so even picking up my children has become something that causes me tremendous pain and sadness.

Next in this progression comes my chest. For as long as I can remember, I've always had chest pains. Not of a heart-attack variety, but of an asthmatic variety. Anxiety also causes my chest to get tight and eventually hurt. The pain in my chest is sometimes of this sort, that tight feeling that eventually wears down the muscle fibers until you feel like they're going to fray. That's the best type of chest pain I have. Other times, the tightness has gotten so bad combined with a particular motion (or even laughing) that sends a sharp stabbing pain through my chest. This pain I think is a combination of the implants irritating my chest wall, tension, anxiety, and asthma. Removal of the implants will hopefully remove at least one of these causes.

Pain in the neck comes next, and I don't mean the kids, husband, or work. I literally mean my neck hurts. This pain generally manifests itself after all the other pains have brought my defenses down. The tension from my chest creeps up my neck as the pain continues or worsens. I slump my shoulders, round my back, and tuck my chin to try to protect my painful areas. As my shoulders slump, my bra straps dig into the tender area between my shoulders and base of my neck. The neck pain again defies description. Sometimes it is an extension of my collar-bone pulling pain. Sometimes it is an extension of the "funny bone" pain from my arms. Sometimes it is an extension of the tightness of my chest. Always it is debilitating and exhausting. On a bad day, the pain engulfs not only my neck, but also my lower jaw. Turning my head, eating, or even swallowing become monumental efforts of excrutiating pain.

Again, the line of pain extends to include my head. My head will be much studied tomorrow. I have been having blinding headaches for the past several months. Headaches are nothing new to me, I think I began having them around age 6. Everything including allergies, sinus, migraines, tension, and stress have been given as causes for my past headaches. Sometimes an allergy/sinus pill removes the pain. Sometimes a migraine medicine relieves me. Sometimes 12+ hours of sleep is necessary before I feel human again. Lately, nothing has been working -- not even the narcotic pain relievers. The pain again varies but the worst is when it feels as if a railroad spike has pierced my head right above my eye (sometimes left, sometimes right, sometimes both simultaneously) and exited at the base of my skull. This development was noted by Dr. L in Houston with a small bit of concern. She recommended an MRI, "just to be sure" that I haven't experienced a metestasis to my brain. She reassured me that she seriously doubted anything would show up on the MRI. Dr M kind of snorted and said that he'd add a PET scan to the MRI, but that he was just scheduling these tests to set my mind at rest. He cavalierly said something about me being too young and healthy for something like a brain metestasis to occur. Of course, this kind of cavalier attitude has previously been disproved by my initial diagnosis. Tomorrow is the big day for my MRI and PET scan... 730 am my aching head will be visualized repeatedly.

My reasons for describing these various pains I suffer is not to generate sympathy. The purpose is actually two-fold. One, I want to document how I feel right now so I can somewhat objectively compare my current pain to my post-surgical pain. That will be the benchmark that measures a successful operation October 28. Two, I tend to gloss over the pain because I internalize so much of it. Instead of speaking (or writing) about the pain, I pick the fluffy aspects like what I'll look like, mostly to avoid any pity. Another aspect of avoiding the pain issue is that if I verbalize it (whether in writing or speech) I can no longer try to ignore it. Verbalization makes it real and unavoidable. Sometimes verbalization makes the pain the elephant in the room. So far, none of the doctors I've visited have ever experienced a patient quite like me. None of them have ever seen some one with pain issues like me. None of them have ever seen someone who deals with it (the pain, the diagnosis, life, ??) quite like me. What can I say I'm an individual individual! ;-) However, for all my quirks and medical oddities, there is no denying that my pain is real and has reached insurmmountable levels. This is what my current battle is about -- relieving the pain I'm living with constantly, that no one understands.

23 days to go & I'm already a ball of nerves



This is my creation for a blog I
contribute to called Catholic Sistas
 for Respect Life/Breast Cancer awareness month

 If I wasn't afraid I'd lose my curls, I'd be pulling my hair out over my upcoming surgery. << That is my weak attempt at humor for this post.

For some reason this surgery is causing me more stress than ANY of my others (that I remember). I think at least a portion of the stress is caused by vanity. I have nightmares of waking up with gaping holes in my chest while the doctors just shake their heads and say, "It looks fine." Really though, I know that is the least of my concerns. I know this surgery is fundamentally more risky than my previous surgeries. Even the bilateral mastectomy was less of a risk simply because its pretty simple to amputate. The difficulty comes in trying to transplant to an area already fraught with inflammation and scar tissue. Part of the difficulty is rooted in the vanity side of the operation -- afterall the entire purpose of this type of surgery is to *look* normal. However, infection of both the donor site (my belly fat) or transplant site (the new foobs) is a significant possibility. Its also possible for the transplant to just not 'take'. I'm also paranoid that going this drastic is not going to affect my pain levels significantly. Well, I *KNOW* the surgery is going to immediately cause an increase in pain level. The chancy part is whether my chest, neck, shoulder, & arm pain will decrease, stay the same, or even possibly increase. The true purpose of this (final?!?!) surgery is to relieve my pain, but so far, no one is willing to give me odds on a positive outcome.

Another aspect of this surgery that I've hinted (ok, ok -- I outright asked/am asking for donations) is the financial considerations. In my previous post, I outlined that I am the *only* income for our household of 4. My husband & I figured it out last night: by the time you subtract the mortgage & my gas money to commute to work, we have approximately $250 per person for the entire month. That has to cover groceries, car insurance, diapers for two large kids (Simon's pretty good during the day, but nights are a whole 'nother story), toiletries, medical needs, incidentals, and the unexpected costs associated with life and having 2 worn out vehicles ('88 Ford Turbo Coupe & '95 Jeep Grand Cherokee). Even with coupons & savings cards, our grocery bills typically reach $200 twice a month. Then you have to factor in getting *to* the grocery store when driving aforementioned worn out vehicles. I didn't realize it as much when Simon was younger, but diaper boxes really do contain a whole lot less the larger the child. To be completely honest, things have gotten so bad that Andrew & I are taking steps toward bankruptcy. I wake up every morning for work and feel nothing but dread; not necessarily because I hate my job, but more because I know I'm stuck working to *barely* support my family. When I sleep my dreams are populated with the horrors of surgery (including my death) as well as financial ruin (my family being homeless). That makes for a bad attitude, panic attacks, and exhaustion (even though I know perfectly well that my extended family would never let us be homeless or go without necessities).

Going through this surgery requires me to put a LOT of faith in my doctors and our Merciful God. I'm not very good at turning the reins over to another. Hence the panic attacks, hot flashes, and overall flipping out I've been doing lately. I've always felt like I need to protect others from unpleasantness. I hold my emotions in so someone else can have me as their support and/or so someone else doesn't have to support me. I work really hard to try to reassure everyone that everything will be ok. My cheerful facade is just that -- a facade. It's no more real than the old-timey movie sets in our favorite movies.

Sometimes I can trick myself into believing my facade is my truth. Then something happens to reveal a crack. The crack slowly becomes larger & larger until I feel like I can no longer withstand the whirlwind of emotions coming toward me. I've been told to "let go and let God." Oh, how I wish it was that easy! I pray to God to lift the burden from me. I've been told, "Just like the footprints in the sand, God will carry you if you'll just let him. He already, is in fact." I turn around to look, but instead of footprints at all, all I see is the whirlwind obliterating all the progress I've made. I look at the image of Christ on the cross and I Faithfully know that my burdens and sins were nullified by His Act of Sacrifice. However, I can't help but also see the cross I'm carrying and nailed upon. Christ's was the Ultimate Sacrifice for me and you. However, when the winds overwhelms me (us?), it is so difficult to see how His Selfless Act could *really* take away my sufferings. Maybe I'm looking at it wrong. Afterall, Christ did tell us that we had to pick up our cross and follow Him. Maybe I have picked up my cross, but I'm not yet to the path in the road where Jesus takes my "yoke upon His shoulders". Maybe its because I'm willfully (even if subconsciously) turning from His path by pridefully creating my own.

Even as I type this, I know that without Christ's help I'd have already succumb to my life's troubles. So, even as I question myself and God, I Faithfully *KNOW* that He is watching over me. I'm in that odd state of acknowledging God's help but still requiring so much more. Neither the grief counseling books nor the cancer help books have accurately described this place I feel I'm in. I don't doubt God nor do I blame God. I don't ask Him "Why", but I also don't ask Him often enough for help. I'm not angry or belligerent. I know that somewhere inside this mess of my life is a message from Him to me and to everyone who has been touched by my life. I just can't see that message to me. I can see the message to others and that's another reason why I have such a cheerful facade. I want everyone to know that it *IS* possible to keep the Faith while going through trials. I want everyone to know that it *IS* possible to carry your child to term and receive treatment for cancer. I want everyone to see the positives of my situation -- not the negatives. However, behind the facade the negatives build.

This, my journal, is a release of these tumultuous emotions I have. Althought I'm speaking "to" an audience (you my readers), in reality I am speaking to myself. I am reassuring myself that if I can put my troubles in black & white (well, my draft is black & white) then there *must* be a way to resolve them. Plus, an outpouring of the Holy Spirit from your prayers is ALWAYS a welcome addition to problem solving!

Trade Tears for Fears or Are They One & the Same?

It seems like all I ever do is whine lately. I apologize for that. The sad fact is that I actually do feel worse now than I did 2 years ago pregnant & doing chemo. Back then I at least had the comfort of knowing this phase was transitory & at the end (well, middle of chemo) I would have a beautiful baby girl to cuddle. I was also not stretched so thin between work, home, & health -- nor were my chest muscles stretched so thin. I'm still waiting to hear from MD Anderson about getting a consultation with a plastic surgeon there. The pain and strain continues to build.

Yesterday was a horrible day for me. I spent almost a solid 4 hours crying. I wasn't just crying to myself -- no I had to go & cry in front of the receptionists at the doctor's office, random people at the doctor's office, my direct supervisor, my co-workers, my husband, AND my mom all at different times. For the record: I DO NOT CRY. If I'm crying then the world as I know it has come crashing down upon me. To the outside observer it seems like a simple mistake or a casual dismissal. However, to me it is the straw that broke the camel's back.

My tears yesterday were of pain, frustration, disappointment, fear, stress, and exhaustion. One of the biggest factors is fear though. Almost all the other reasons I cry are based on fear. I'm afraid that I'm just going in circles (frustration). I'm afraid that I'm not taking the right steps (disappointment). I'm afraid that I am not fulfilling all my obligations (stress). I'm afraid that I'm going to miss something (exhaustion). I'm afraid that I'm just going to have to continue living this way. I'm just afraid period. I give myself all the same platitudes & inspirational sayings that frequent Hallmark cards & motivational posters. However, at this point I can't convince myself to believe. I've become jaded and cynical.

Today I resolved to do better. My nails (fingers & toes) are a day-glo bright pink. I'm wearing peep-toe heels (so show off my day-glo bright pink nails). I'm wearing a bright pink shirt. I've plastered a smile in my mind. So far it seems to be working, but I can feel the fear still lurking in the background. I'm trying to be confident that the day-glo bright pink is enough armour to stave off the guerrilla warfare of fear. Mostly, I'm trying to be confident that His invisible shield surrounds me and comforts me. Good luck & God bless!

More pain

I'm not sure what I did, but I'm having SERIOUS chest spasms. It all started by me trying to adjust the back of my bra with my left arm/hand.  I initially used 1/2 a Valium & 1/2 a Lortab. The pain was so bad that I couldn't wait until I got home (it was 330), so I had to call my dad to ride home with him to medicate. That means I had to leave my borrowed (from MIL) car in the parking lot over night. I also have to get up extra early to ride with dad. I'm so thankful to have that as an option!

Even with the meds I was hurting so much on the way home & when I arrived home that I could barely hug the kids or Andrew. I tried to take a hot bath to relax the muscles. However, the pain got worse by simply lifting a book slightly above my head.. I've taken another Lortab & still can't move much. :-( I'm in so much pain that I couldn't even dry myself after my bath. Thankfully Andrew is a wonderful husband! <3 He even coated my chest with Theragesic (like Ben-Gay or Icy Hot, but stronger).

When, oh, when will this end?? I was feeling optimistic after talking to the chiropractor today. I've apparently made progress that pleased the doctor. According to him my nervous system (according to the scans from today) is in good shape. Of course we also spoke about how my body apparently is one of the 2 out of 10 that doesn't follow the text-books.

More pain

I'm not sure what I did, but I'm having SERIOUS chest spasms. It all started by me trying to adjust the back of my bra with my left arm/hand.  I initially used 1/2 a Valium & 1/2 a Lortab. The pain was so bad that I couldn't wait until I got home (it was 330), so I had to call my dad to ride home with him to medicate. That means I had to leave my borrowed (from MIL) car in the parking lot over night. I also have to get up extra early to ride with dad. I'm so thankful to have that as an option!

Even with the meds I was hurting so much on the way home & when I arrived home that I could barely hug the kids or Andrew. I tried to take a hot bath to relax the muscles. However, the pain got worse by simply lifting a book slightly above my head.. I've taken another Lortab & still can't move much. :-( I'm in so much pain that I couldn't even dry myself after my bath. Thankfully Andrew is a wonderful husband! <3 He even coated my chest with Theragesic (like Ben-Gay or Icy Hot, but stronger).

When, oh, when will this end?? I was feeling optimistic after talking to the chiropractor today. I've apparently made progress that pleased the doctor. According to him my nervous system (according to the scans from today) is in good shape. Of course we also spoke about how my body apparently is one of the 2 out of 10 that doesn't follow the text-books.

A Foob-new me... :-(

I never thought having a foob job would make me emotional. Right now, its more like I'm having hormonal flashes, mood swings, & hot flashes as if I'd had a hysterectomy/oophorectomy. I can't seem to find anything that doesn't make me want to cry. :-( I am SO not like this usually. I'm having a hard time w/ being helpless. The helplessness of chemo was NOTHING compare to this. Here are some concrete examples...

I'm supposed to drink lots to flush all the drugs out of my system, right? Well, think about where you keep your drinking glasses (and plates & such). Your answer is probably similar to mine - in the shelves *above* your counters. Part of my plastic surgeon's orders were to not reach above my head. So in order for me to do something as simple & required as drinking lots of fluids - I have to have someone else do it. The same for plates & such.

Think about how you work with your children. For instance, Simon just learned to climb out of his bed when he doesn't want to lay down (typical little boy). So most parents I know would just pick up their child & put them back in bed. Well, since Simon is *well* over the weight of a 2-liter bottle, I'm definitely not allowed to pick him up. I can't even pull on him when he refuses to go/do what I ask. If he isn't feeling cooperative I can't even change his diaper b/c I can't lift his legs & butt. Even as small as Rachel is I can't pick her up, change her position if someone has put her on me, or even hold her butt up to change a diaper. It also seems like our kiddos have become so used to other people's houses that they don't want to sleep here. Neither one has slept through the night since we've gotten home. Both were sleeping through the night fine b/4 we left & while we were gone. I can't help w/ that either. :-(

Now think about how you cuddle with your children. You snug them up against your chest kind of on your shoulder and tucked under your chin (at least that's my babies' favorite position). Well, b/c I can only slightly feel pressure on my chest and I'm worried about putting too much pressure on my nipples, I can't hold either of them against my chest. So earlier today both kids were crying and Brenda (who was helping out today) had one, but I could do nothing for the other. Of course, when someone else is in the room both of them tend to gravitate toward the other person rather than me anyway.

Now think about other more basic needs... like scratching your back. I have one of those extend-able back scratchers that a FORCE member (Thanks Barbara) gave me. So last night I had an itch. I pulled out my scratcher & then had sharp shooting pains in my right arm-pit from using it. I can't pick up my lap-top to move it, so I had to have Andrew set it up on the kitchen table. To be completely honest, it hurts to put clothes on - even my pants or socks. To go TMI on you - it even hurts to wipe after I pee b/c of the twisting motion involved.

Now, I'm not saying this to whine, I'm just trying to explain *why* I'm so bummed out and feeling helpless. I know it will all get better. I know that my kids love me. I know that Andrew doesn't mind having to help me. I know my mom doesn't mind helping either. His mom doesn't mind either. Its not that. Its that I just *HATE* not being able to do for myself. My mind knows on the one hand that I'm not supposed to do, but my mind thinks/remembers that my body can do it. However, my body very quickly reminds my mind that I'm not supposed to do things. So the short-story is that I'm having a pity party. Please *don't* join me... Its bad enough for me to be miserable. I hope everyone else is doing ok.