The Energy Bank and Marriage

My last check-up with the oncologist went well, no evidence of disease.  I have my last four month check in February and then we move to every six months.  I feel well and have lots of energy, unlike when was going through cancer treatment.  Then I had to space things out because there was only so much energy to be had.  Withdraw too much from the energy bank and there would be none.  It made me prioritize.

This September Mr. D fell and broke dominant left shoulder and his right elbow.  The elbow injury was merely a crack but the shoulder injury required two-hour surgery.  At first both his arms were in slings and I had to do many of his self-care tasks.  He wasn't allowed to lift more than a coffee cup with either hand.  We share the housework and he couldn't help.  He also slept a lot.  Thus I was reminded of the energy bank.  At first even going to the doctor was exhausting for him.  We could go to the store but we had to keep the energy bank in mind.  Too much time led to exhaustion.  Now almost a month post surgery he is doing much better.  He still can't lift much but he can do dishes and cook.  He sleeps a more normal schedule.  He still can't withdraw more from the energy bank than is available but he has more reserves.  He starts physical therapy this week.

All this has led me to think about how precious life is and how it can be taken away in an instant.  Mr. D is my love, my life-partner.  I have promised to be with him for better and for worse and in sickness and in health.  We've been through both the for poorer and for richer.  He's been through my sickness and health. The longer I'm married the more my vows mean something.  At marriage they were just words for a future I was clueless about.  The longer I'm married the more I love this man.

Ash Wednesday 2012

Another Lent begins.  Another time to clear out the spiritual cobwebs.  Some give up something for Lent.  Others take on a new spiritual practice.  What keeps us from God?  What will bring us closer?

Last year after my struggle with breast cancer I decided to give up suffering for Lent.  I felt I'd suffered enough with all the things that come with a cancer diagnosis.  Suffering found me in ways that I couldn't have imagined. In March, Hazzard, my sixteen year-old cat died.  He had kidney disease and so his passing wasn't a surprise, it was just painful.  He was an old friend.  He didn't want to be alone when he died and so he died in my arms.  That was hard, that was difficult, but I was shocked at the suffering that was to come.  

Losing a pet is like losing one of the family but it doesn't compare to the loss of someone from the human family.  In April Andrew was killed in a motorcycle accident three days from his twenty-fifth birthday.  He was part of our neighborhood's extended family.  He and his sisters and my son and daughters would migrate from house to house, usually the boys at one and the girls at the other.  I watched him while his parents worked.  As a young man he moved into the house next door to me and started raising his son.  He later moved to a different spot in the neighborhood later but I would see him skateboarding with his dog down the street or taking his son sledding.  "Hi Andrew."  "Hi Cheryl".  And then he was gone, dead, abruptly dead.  It was like I had been kicked in the gut.  This year I am not giving up suffering.

The first reading for Ash Wednesday from the prophet Joel tells us:

Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God.

I've approached this Lent with a different attitude.  I am ready to do what I usually do.  I am giving up something that I can give up (don't ask me to give up coffee)  and something that is keeping me from spending time with God and from following his command to "love one another".  I am giving up Facebook and Twitter for the duration and plan to use the extra time gained getting closer to God and to my friends.  It's time to do a little face-to-face or telephoning or physical letter writing to get closer to the people that I love.  I guess the old fashioned ways of communicating are something that I will take up for Lent.  I'm going to try to work against the excuses for not spending dedicated time with God.

These actions won't keep suffering from knocking at my door but they will lead to a healthier relationship with God.  Peace be with you this Ash Wednesday.

  

Mrs. Dermody, Language Police

The other day one of my customers told me she was proud of me.  I was puzzled and asked her what she meant.  She said that she has watched me since I returned to work a year ago. Her husband has been in remission and has gone through cancer treatment and she was pleased at how well I was doing.  I told her that  there wasn't anything that I had done to make me well again.  Others have fought the same battle and have lost. I still survive and don't feel special just grateful.  I just played the hand I was dealt.

The language police part of me that wanted to take the compliment apart.  I looked up the definition of pride in Dictionary.com which says that "It may refer to an affectionate admiration or a justifiable pride concerning someone else."  Oh, that's what she meant, an affectionate admiration.  I was more thinking along the lines of justifiable pride like when I'm proud of my kids. Okay, thanks, which is what I should have said in the first place.

A Happy Birthday

Let's just get this out of the way.  The 58th anniversary of my birth fell on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.  I wonder if people born on December 7th (Pearl Harbor anniversary) have the same sort of problem I do.  People wonder if I should be bummed about having my birthday on such a solemn day.  I answer that I was born long before those terrorists were in diapers.  I mourn the state the world is in but I celebrate my birthday.

Last year I was really sick from chemo for my birthday and couldn't enjoy it at all.  Although there is something to be said about being alive to celebrate one's birthday, so last year had something going for it after all.  This whole summer I've been grateful for the contrast between this year and last year.  This year Lady and I can walk as far as we want.  I can let nature unfold all around us.  I felt like I totally missed last summer.  Bed is no substitute for walking along the creek listening to birdsong and reveling in the joy of life.  My birthday weekend was great this year.  After work on Saturday Martin took me to A Terrible Beauty, a new Irish pub in West Seattle.  I had a couple of pint of Harps and I even had cake for dessert!  Then yesterday on my birthday proper the festivities continued.  My friend Moe from church made a card for me, there were lots of happy birthdays on Facebook, my son called from Oakland, my daughter on the road texted me, my brother called me,  and my oldest daughter and her husband took Mr. D and me out for dinner at The Rusty Pelican in Wallingford.  Ahhh, satisfaction.  

Oncology appointment

Yesterday a customer at the store was congratulating me on my positive attitude. I was happy to be working in a place with windows on a sunny day rather than being bummed out about it. This morning as I was driving to my oncology appointment I was smugly patting myself on the back for my good attitude. Then, on Delridge Way traffic comes to a slow crawl at Edmunds Street. It is one slow car length ahead at a time. As we are crawling along someone slams into my rear end. Great, you're going 5 miles and hour and you can't keep from hitting me! Both of us get out and seeing there is no damage we continue on our way. My attitude is not so positive! Okay, we finally make the West Seattle Bridge. Traffic looks like it's moving. Hooray, that wasn't so bad. I might even make it to my appointment on time, no worries. I don't take the freeway because it is really slow as usual. I take my normal route to the clinic on 23rd. La, de, dah. I get to McLellan and there is sign that says 23rd closed. I have to detour on Rainier Avenue and so does everyone else! When I get to the clinic, I can't find a spot in the lot until I cruise for a time. Growl! I've got a negative attitude. At least the clinic staff is kind and I get to see my doctor. Moral of the story: Don't think you're so hot. You might get a lesson in humility.

I'm happy to say that I'm doing really well. I had no complaints for the doctor and he didn't find anything for me to complain about. The Arimidex is not causing me any side effects that I know of. I just pop the pill every night and I'm fine. I have another four months before I see my oncologist again and have a mammogram in another year.

There is some sad news from our store. Two of us who were battling cancer are now back but on Saturday the third person, a checker for many years, lost her battle. We had been hoping she would be back. Rest in peace, Barb.

Two days post-surgery

I'm two days post-surgery and I just took off the dressing and took a shower. That was a lot of work. Now I'm resting on the couch. I'm more tired this Saturday than I was after last week's surgery. Evidently twice isn't the charm. I have been taking little walks to the mail box and up to the neighbors with Lady.
My medical center will soon be my home away from home. I have an appointment with my surgeon on Wednesday as a follow up. Thursday morning I have my first visit with my oncologist and Thursday afternoon I see the radiation oncology people for a consult. I'm bringing my daughter with me as an extra pair of ears per their suggestion.
I am not used to this. I've often worried about my health thinking that this sign or that sign is cancer. The tests come back and I'm fine. This time I am most definitely not fine.

More surgery tomorrow

My margins weren't totally clear so they need to remove some more breast tissue tomorrow. I was supposed to have my checkback appointment today but I got a call this morning while I was walking with Lady. The nurse called and said that I needed more surgery. Okay, that's bad news but then she said it had to be tomorrow. There just happened to be an opening in the schedule and they want to get this done sooner rather than later so that I can get my radiation and chemo started. But tomorrow! I just was able to walk two miles on the flat today. I'm taking only Aleve for pain but I'll have to go back on the Vicodin after the surgery. I feel like I'm on a board game, I just rolled the dice, and they sent me back 10 spaces.
The path report is back obviously and three lymph nodes have evidence of cancer so it's spread past the breast meaning lucky me gets chemo. One good thing about the tumor, they said it was slow growing so at least that's good news.
Now I know why my dog pulls the other way when we get to the vet's office. Still, I want to fight this cancer and I know that God is sustaining me in all of this. I can feel his presence. He is definitely giving me strength among the tears.

Nice things about my surgical adventure

I've been recovering for a few days and I realize there are some nice things about my surgery day.

1. They have warm blankets that come from a blanket warmer.
2. They had a device in pre-op that blew warm air into my paper gown. The nurse said that in a hospital, "If you're not cold now, you will be."
3. I got slipper socks.
4. The breast center nurse stayed by my side and rubbed my arm to comfort me when I was going through a painful pre-op procedure. When I almost fainted after the mammogram she stayed with me until I got to nuclear medicine.
5. In Nuclear Medicine the tech said, "Hi, I'm Neal and I'll be doing your scanning." I felt like teasing him suggesting, "Hi, I'm Neal. I'll be your waiter," but I let the moment pass.
6. I need my glasses for seeing so the nurse anesthetist made sure that I had them in the OR before they knocked me out and available in the recovery room when I woke up.
7. The operating table was warm and I got more warm blankets.
8. My husband, my sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, and my daughter were brought into my room when I got settled. They had been waiting all day long and it was so good to see their faces.
9. The nurse not only brought me juice but she warmed up my muffin. Now that's service!
10. I got to go home.

Surgery is over

Thursday, July 8th was a long day. I had to check-in at 7 am for my lumpectomy which was scheduled for noon. The early check-in was due to some things that had to be done beforehand. First I had to go to the breast radiology people so that they could do two things. The first was to insert a wire into my breast to guide the surgeon to the tumor (how glad I am that I didn't realize they needed to do that earlier; I would have obsessed about it). The second was to inject nuclear material in my breast to map the sentinel nodes. I may not have known how many pain receptors there were in a breast but I sure found out quickly. The radiologist injected some Lidocaine beforehand but it wasn't enough. At least at the dentist I get nitrous oxide so that if I hurt, I don't care. The medical team was very supportive emotionally but I wish the procedure didn't hurt so darn much! Then I found out that they would need to do a mammogram (sandwich my breast between two panes of plastic and snap an x-ray) of my already painful breast. I had a grumpy mammographer who was made even grumpier by the fact that she would have to position me awkwardly for the picture. We got it done and she was going to do another view when I said I needed to sit down. Things started going black on me. They brought in a nurse and my husband. Thank goodness the one picture was so clear that they didn't need another. They gave me oxygen and sent me down to nuclear medicine on a gurney instead of a wheelchair.

Nuclear medicine didn't hurt at all. I just had to stay still for five minutes at a time while they scanned the nuclear material in my breast for the node mapping. Then it was back up to pre-op where my husband and I would wait for the anesthesiologist, the anesthetist, and the surgeon to talk to us.

The surgery itself was the easy part. I got onto this warm table with warm blankets, got strapped in, listened to the staff joking around, and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room. My breast hurt and I was sleepy. They gave me drugs for the pain. They understood about breast nerve endings. After recovery I was re-united with my loving family while I rested up and ate a blueberry muffin and did all the other stuff one needs to do to get released from the hospital.

My daughter came home with us and made the family phone calls. Both Mr. D and I were too stressed to want to talk to anybody. It had been a long day!

July 8th is frightfully close. I call tomorrow to see what time I'm scheduled for. Why don't we just call this cancer thing off? I'll have vacation time on my books after July 16th; maybe instead of surgery I could fly out of the country and sit in an Irish pub drinking Jamison's or Guinness or Harp. That really sounds like a much better idea than having my tumor and some lymph nodes removed.

I can't run away from my cancer. I'm an adult. Adults don't put up a fuss when poked and prodded and stitched. Adults say, "I will do anything I need to do to fight this cancer." We understand why the procedures are being done unlike cats, dogs, or kids. When my cats have had surgeries they have no idea why they can't eat after midnight the day before the surgery. "Mom, you're up and we're hungry." This Thursday morning I'll have to watch everyone else eat.

Now that I'm finished complaining I want to talk about the spiritual side of all this. On Sunday I was a lector and proclaimed about Jerusalem, "Oh that you may suck fully of the milk of her comfort, that you may nurse with delight at her abundant breasts."(Isaiah 66:11 NAB). Does that seem ironic to anyone but me? I told Father Dunstan that I would be having surgery this Thursday and he laid his hands on me and prayed for me. Then it seemed like his homily was meant for me. In the Gospel, the sending of the 72 (Luke 10:1-12, 17-20), Jesus tells his disciples to eat what is put in front of them when staying at a house. Father Dunstan said we who give care need to be ready to receive care as well. We are not to refuse the food (love) they put before us. I don't think it's possible to survive cancer without accepting love.

I am spending my pre-surgery days getting housework done. Some times are filled with fear and others are filled with a quiet acceptance of whatever God wants to throw at me. I know that God and my friends and family are with me every step of the way.

Cancer, Cancer, Cancer

There, I've said the word. I have breast cancer. I had a routine mammogram. I got the dreaded call back but I wasn't too worried because that has happened to me before. Last year they took extra films and an ultrasound and that was that. This time I had the extra films, the ultrasound, and then a biopsy. I have infiltrating mammary carcinoma. I've met with the surgeon and his team of nurses. I'm scheduled for surgery July 8th. I have mixed feelings. I want the time to go fast so that I get the surgery over and done with and so that my cancer can be staged. I also want the time to go slowly because each day marches me closer to surgical pain and the hassles of treatment. Right now, I don't feel too bad. It's the treatment that's going to make me feel bad. If I sound like a whiner, I am. I freely admit it.
When I hit 50 I came to the realization that I really would die some time in the future. I don't know or how or when I will die but everyone leaves this world in a box. I have more time behind me than ahead of me. When I found out I had breast cancer I couldn't ask, "Why me?" I knew it might as well be me as someone else. People get sick. They die. It's the way of the world. Besides, there has to be room in the world for all the new people. I'm not dead yet and may not be for a long time but cancer gives me pause for contemplation.

A holy moment with a cat

I took our cat Hazzard to the vet today. He is 15 years-old and has been due for his rabies shot since he likes to go outside and sit in the sun from time to time. He also had his fully dilated swollen eye looked at. I usually don't take him to the vet because we have a deal. He doesn't pee in my car or run away from home and I don't take him to the vet.

The doctor was running late so while we were waiting we sat on the exam-room floor. I wanted to be as nervous as Hazzard but that would only upset him more. I've found that the way to have a calm pet is to be calm myself. I knew that he was blind in his eye so that it must be something bad. So, there we were on the floor and I prayed my centering prayer word, Jesus, over and over again. While Hazzard and I waited we sat with God together, breathing slowly.

Hazzard has to have his eye removed. He either has glaucoma or cancer. The surgery is scheduled next week. He is already avoiding me. I'm not letting him outside until he feels safe with me again. Next week I will be in real trouble with him. He's really mad at my but I know that I did the right thing. Doing nothing was not an option. I just wish that he knew that.

Shepherd Me Oh God

I had an endometrial biopsy today to help rule out uterine cancer. It hurt like crazy because my menopausal cervix had to be dilated. At least the doc apologized for the pain. He's thinking I'm probably okay because the lining of my uterus is so thin. If there were cancer or hyperplasia going on that would not be the case. I should have the results by next week. They have me scheduled in March for a pelvic ultrasound. I'm worried but I'm not worried. Over my lifetime I have had more than one cancer scare. None of them have been the dreaded C.
I spent some time this morning in centering prayer in preparation for this afternoon's procedure. I knew it was going to hurt and I was afraid. I tried to give my fear to God but it turns out that I could only have God help me hold it. So here I am still worried about something over which I have no control but I'm not alone with it.