Butterfly Kisses
What happened to the month of January? It flew by. It took me so long to tell my tale of radiation that I didn’t touch on some of the other events of the last month. Not to mention, I usually write my updates in the evening, and I found myself pretty well drained by the end of each day. Instead of getting my second wind and tackling all of the tasks I usually reserve until the kids have gone to bed, I found myself just hanging out. That weariness was probably attributable to my daily sessions on the “tanning bed”. I am still getting zapped daily, but I seemed to have regained my “normal” pre-radiation energy levels. This is a relief as I was really becoming quite unorganized and wasn’t able to stay on top of simple, but important things like getting the bills out on time and writing thank you notes. Anyway, I am starting to get caught up again, and I will use this posting to give a quick summary of some of the highlights of the past month.
I saw Dr. P, my oncologist, in January. I told her about the rather negative experience I had during my initial visit to the radiation center, and how I felt both scared and diminished following that particular appointment. What was the sense of urgency about the radiation? Had I missed some important detail along the way? Should I be worried? I thought the radiation was merely insurance to reduce the risk of recurrence. Dr. P assured me that the radiation was just “icing on the cake” and postulated that the radiation doctor was probably just anxious to keep me on schedule. Phew! Dr. P truly understands how much of her role of healer is as mental as it is physical…
She said I looked “fabulous.” Nine months ago when this saga began and all of my body parts were still intact, I would have responded with, “Thanks. You are very kind.” and I would have thought, “But you are out of your mind!” BC (before cancer) I reserved the term fabulous for women far more attractive than me and with much better figures than mine. Now I have long, purple scars where my breasts once were, and I am still quite challenged in the hair department, but you know what? I do look fabulous! When I look in the mirror, I am so grateful for my body. Cellulite? So what! Stretch marks? Badges of honor! Long purple scars? Symbols of victory! Scraggly hair? Signs of health, vitality, and healing. I love my body! As I return to health, I truly am grateful for my body and will never take it for granted again.
I also had a visit with Dr. H last month. It was actually the first time I had seen him since the surgery as he had to have surgery himself shortly after my operation. He said he had just returned from a meeting where results of recent studies from M.D. Anderson (Cancer Research Center) were presented. What I understood him to say is that aggressive tumors responded better to chemo; however, the long term prognosis (15 and 20 years out) was better when there wasn’t a complete response. I had a partial response to the chemo, probably because my tumor was a less aggressive type (well-differentiated and estrogen receptor positive), and that bodes well for my long term prognosis. (I remember being a little concerned that I hadn’t had a complete response to the chemo, but now I am glad I didn’t!) He cited a recurrence rate of 15%, and Dr. P had told me about 10%. Either way, I can live with that - literally!
My brother, Jeff, came for another visit, and I am happy to report that my “chemo brain” is apparently on the mend. At least, I won a few of the many Scrabble games we played that weekend. Although a recent study reported that the effects of chemo can remain in your brain up to ten years... I guess I have a legitimate excuse for forgetfulness and other mental deficiencies for the next decade, and after that I can blame any cognitive weakness on hitting my 50s!
I haven’t talked about my hair for awhile so indulge me for a few paragraphs. I am still wearing hats, and not just because it is cold outside (20 degrees Fahrenheit today, in fact). I was just a tiny bit discouraged at my last “Tea and Talk” gathering. One of the women stopped chemo about a month after me, and instead of wearing her customary scarf, she was proudly displaying a head full of short, beautiful, new hair. I have a hypothesis: she had four chemo treatments, compared to my eight, so her body may be detoxing more quickly than mine. (I am evolving, but patience is still not one of my virtues, especially when it comes to my hair!) Of course, I was so happy for her, and she looked absolutely radiant!
My hair is returning slowly, and as I have reported in previous postings, in the same male pattern baldness manner in which it departed. The sides and back of my head are actually pretty well covered, but the top and front is still sparse. There is more head visible than hair. My widow’s peak has been the last to see any new growth, but it, too, is finally sprouting finely textured, kind of wavy, mostly pepper colored hair, with some well-deserved salt thrown in for contrast. My hair used to be so thick and coarse that I always selected shampoo that would at least claim to make an effort at taming it. Last week when I was scanning the shampoo aisle for just the right product to coax my hair back to its former glory, I found myself again paying careful attention to the labels. This time it was the one promising 70% more volume that found its way into my grocery cart!
Chemo has a real twisted sense of humor, so naturally the hair on my legs has reclaimed its territory, so I am back to shaving on a regular basis. My eyebrows are starting to fill in, and the very fine, very light "fuzz" on my face is also back from its hiatus. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking how different I looked while I was undergoing the chemo treatments, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Certainly my color was a little off. Of course, my eyebrows were barely there, and my eyelashes were just plain AWOL, but. that fine down departed with so little fanfare that I never noticed it was gone and how its absence contributed to the “chemo look” until it returned.
My eyelashes are short but full! I have tried mascara a couple of times, but it gives them a kind of spiky, blunt look instead of enhancing them. No biggie there, but the following moment was a biggie. Clay, my six year old, and I were cuddling one evening, and he leaned over to give me butterfly kisses on my cheek. He loves giving and receiving butterfly kisses. Over the past several months, he had frequently asked why I couldn’t give him butterfly kisses back, to which I would matter-of-factly respond, “Because you need eyelashes, and I don’t have any, silly!” Well, I can now give butterfly kisses to my precious son again, and what a celebration that is! And, look, no smudgy mascara on occasions like that when the eyes well up with happy tears .
Many of you have been asking about Bo. After having an MRI, x-ray, ultrasound, CAT scan, and all types of blood tests, Bo still does not have a definitive answer as to why his right leg is filling with fluid every night. Dr. #4 thinks that he may have had a blood clot that has since dissolved but is continuing to affect him. That doesn’t explain many of the other symptoms, but at this point, Bo has given up on getting any more of a diagnosis than that. The good news is that between the four doctors and the forty gazillion dollars worth of tests, all the “bad” stuff that Bo could have had has been ruled out.
Bo went back to work yesterday for the first time in over seven years. He has been a stay-at- home Dad since shortly after the birth of our first son, Cole. It was so great that he could be around for me and for the boys last year during the drama that we found ourselves living. My diagnosis occurred only two months after I had just launched a new business, and obviously my priority shifted from growing a business to one of pure survival. I put the business on the back burner where it belonged and focused on my physical health. As a result, our financial health kind of went into cardiac arrest, so we are now taking the necessary steps to resuscitate it. Not to worry though. We were fortunate to have very comprehensive health insurance and that my conservative approach to money in the past ensured some financial stability during this crisis. We were also blessed to have extremely generous family members, and even friends, standing by and offering to assist if/when we needed it, so we never had to worry, as many people do, about our finances while we were concentrating on more important things, like life! How lucky are we! I am so grateful!
Bo had mixed emotions about returning to work - outside the home, that is. (It would be crazy to suggest that caring for three young boys was not serious work!) He is ready to return to a paid position, but he also knows how much he will miss spending time with the boys. The timing is good as I finish all treatment this week, but there will be adjustments for all of us, as we move into this new phase our lives as a family.
I am off to pick up that toaster. Today is my last dose of radiation, and in another hour, I will be a bona fide graduate of breast cancer treatment!!!!!!!!!!!!
I saw Dr. P, my oncologist, in January. I told her about the rather negative experience I had during my initial visit to the radiation center, and how I felt both scared and diminished following that particular appointment. What was the sense of urgency about the radiation? Had I missed some important detail along the way? Should I be worried? I thought the radiation was merely insurance to reduce the risk of recurrence. Dr. P assured me that the radiation was just “icing on the cake” and postulated that the radiation doctor was probably just anxious to keep me on schedule. Phew! Dr. P truly understands how much of her role of healer is as mental as it is physical…
She said I looked “fabulous.” Nine months ago when this saga began and all of my body parts were still intact, I would have responded with, “Thanks. You are very kind.” and I would have thought, “But you are out of your mind!” BC (before cancer) I reserved the term fabulous for women far more attractive than me and with much better figures than mine. Now I have long, purple scars where my breasts once were, and I am still quite challenged in the hair department, but you know what? I do look fabulous! When I look in the mirror, I am so grateful for my body. Cellulite? So what! Stretch marks? Badges of honor! Long purple scars? Symbols of victory! Scraggly hair? Signs of health, vitality, and healing. I love my body! As I return to health, I truly am grateful for my body and will never take it for granted again.
I also had a visit with Dr. H last month. It was actually the first time I had seen him since the surgery as he had to have surgery himself shortly after my operation. He said he had just returned from a meeting where results of recent studies from M.D. Anderson (Cancer Research Center) were presented. What I understood him to say is that aggressive tumors responded better to chemo; however, the long term prognosis (15 and 20 years out) was better when there wasn’t a complete response. I had a partial response to the chemo, probably because my tumor was a less aggressive type (well-differentiated and estrogen receptor positive), and that bodes well for my long term prognosis. (I remember being a little concerned that I hadn’t had a complete response to the chemo, but now I am glad I didn’t!) He cited a recurrence rate of 15%, and Dr. P had told me about 10%. Either way, I can live with that - literally!
My brother, Jeff, came for another visit, and I am happy to report that my “chemo brain” is apparently on the mend. At least, I won a few of the many Scrabble games we played that weekend. Although a recent study reported that the effects of chemo can remain in your brain up to ten years... I guess I have a legitimate excuse for forgetfulness and other mental deficiencies for the next decade, and after that I can blame any cognitive weakness on hitting my 50s!
I haven’t talked about my hair for awhile so indulge me for a few paragraphs. I am still wearing hats, and not just because it is cold outside (20 degrees Fahrenheit today, in fact). I was just a tiny bit discouraged at my last “Tea and Talk” gathering. One of the women stopped chemo about a month after me, and instead of wearing her customary scarf, she was proudly displaying a head full of short, beautiful, new hair. I have a hypothesis: she had four chemo treatments, compared to my eight, so her body may be detoxing more quickly than mine. (I am evolving, but patience is still not one of my virtues, especially when it comes to my hair!) Of course, I was so happy for her, and she looked absolutely radiant!
My hair is returning slowly, and as I have reported in previous postings, in the same male pattern baldness manner in which it departed. The sides and back of my head are actually pretty well covered, but the top and front is still sparse. There is more head visible than hair. My widow’s peak has been the last to see any new growth, but it, too, is finally sprouting finely textured, kind of wavy, mostly pepper colored hair, with some well-deserved salt thrown in for contrast. My hair used to be so thick and coarse that I always selected shampoo that would at least claim to make an effort at taming it. Last week when I was scanning the shampoo aisle for just the right product to coax my hair back to its former glory, I found myself again paying careful attention to the labels. This time it was the one promising 70% more volume that found its way into my grocery cart!
Chemo has a real twisted sense of humor, so naturally the hair on my legs has reclaimed its territory, so I am back to shaving on a regular basis. My eyebrows are starting to fill in, and the very fine, very light "fuzz" on my face is also back from its hiatus. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking how different I looked while I was undergoing the chemo treatments, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Certainly my color was a little off. Of course, my eyebrows were barely there, and my eyelashes were just plain AWOL, but. that fine down departed with so little fanfare that I never noticed it was gone and how its absence contributed to the “chemo look” until it returned.
My eyelashes are short but full! I have tried mascara a couple of times, but it gives them a kind of spiky, blunt look instead of enhancing them. No biggie there, but the following moment was a biggie. Clay, my six year old, and I were cuddling one evening, and he leaned over to give me butterfly kisses on my cheek. He loves giving and receiving butterfly kisses. Over the past several months, he had frequently asked why I couldn’t give him butterfly kisses back, to which I would matter-of-factly respond, “Because you need eyelashes, and I don’t have any, silly!” Well, I can now give butterfly kisses to my precious son again, and what a celebration that is! And, look, no smudgy mascara on occasions like that when the eyes well up with happy tears .
Many of you have been asking about Bo. After having an MRI, x-ray, ultrasound, CAT scan, and all types of blood tests, Bo still does not have a definitive answer as to why his right leg is filling with fluid every night. Dr. #4 thinks that he may have had a blood clot that has since dissolved but is continuing to affect him. That doesn’t explain many of the other symptoms, but at this point, Bo has given up on getting any more of a diagnosis than that. The good news is that between the four doctors and the forty gazillion dollars worth of tests, all the “bad” stuff that Bo could have had has been ruled out.
Bo went back to work yesterday for the first time in over seven years. He has been a stay-at- home Dad since shortly after the birth of our first son, Cole. It was so great that he could be around for me and for the boys last year during the drama that we found ourselves living. My diagnosis occurred only two months after I had just launched a new business, and obviously my priority shifted from growing a business to one of pure survival. I put the business on the back burner where it belonged and focused on my physical health. As a result, our financial health kind of went into cardiac arrest, so we are now taking the necessary steps to resuscitate it. Not to worry though. We were fortunate to have very comprehensive health insurance and that my conservative approach to money in the past ensured some financial stability during this crisis. We were also blessed to have extremely generous family members, and even friends, standing by and offering to assist if/when we needed it, so we never had to worry, as many people do, about our finances while we were concentrating on more important things, like life! How lucky are we! I am so grateful!
Bo had mixed emotions about returning to work - outside the home, that is. (It would be crazy to suggest that caring for three young boys was not serious work!) He is ready to return to a paid position, but he also knows how much he will miss spending time with the boys. The timing is good as I finish all treatment this week, but there will be adjustments for all of us, as we move into this new phase our lives as a family.
I am off to pick up that toaster. Today is my last dose of radiation, and in another hour, I will be a bona fide graduate of breast cancer treatment!!!!!!!!!!!!
posted by Mary @ 2:10 PM
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