Well, despite my best intentions, the new me didn't stand a chance with my southern neighbour. I haven't seen him since the appearance of the tree clippings in my yard. I came home tonight from the gym and he was out front so I asked him about them. "Oh ya, I wanted to talk to you about that". (Ya, I guess so!) "What are your plans for my trees?" So, I asked again why his tree trimmings were in my yard. "Because I wanted you to see what I had done"
"That still doesn't explain why you would put your yard waste in my yard. I find that rather hostile."
"I want to know what you're planning on doing with MY trees." Fine. I take him into my back yard and go over with him the exact same stuff I went over with him the last time. I explain that the arborists all suggested that I take the largest limb down to the next joint - but that's on his property which he is clearly against so I'll take it down at the property line. "I want you to give me all of that in writing," he says, slapping his hands together. I'm not about to give him anything in writing! What the hell for?
"Look, I'm not required to give you anything in writing. I'm entitled to have my property the way that I want it. I consulted with you before I even brought anyone in. I've had four arborists in. None of them have suggested that I not cut these trees (keep in mind they're really weeds, afterall -but I don't dare say that to this guy who has been hostile since I saw him out front)."
"I don't care about arborists! You've started a war now. You wait and see!" and he storms away. I walk after him saying that I've done all I can, I consulted him when I didn't have to, I've more than fulfilled my obligations. By this time he's around the corner and out of sight but to my surprise he comes storming back. "You say you want to cut MY trees to get sun but I've never even seen you in the back yard except to BBQ!" (Okay, I don't spend alot of time in my back yard - because it's a mud pile!) "Did you do a soil acidity evaluation to see whether you can even grow grass?" Huh?
"Seriously?" I ask out loud (even though the new me knows better)
"Yes! Seriously!"
"Okay Ross. I've consulted with you"
"You have not!", he cuts me off. (Wow - at least I tried to have a sane discussion - I didn't just cut down a bunch of branches without any discussion and then leave them in your yard!)
"I brought in four separate arborists. You've left your yard cuttings on my lawn"
"You can't prove that! Did you see me do it?" (Seriously?)
"You just admitted to me that they're yours. Do you really want to do this? 'cause I will if I have to. It's technically a trespass and you need to remove them. You can't just go around leaving your yard trimmings on my property because it suits you." At this point however I'm talking to his back. Fine, bring it on. I'm not sure how things went so totally wrong. I guess I should have just shut up and had mud baths in the back:(
As for the permanent marker markings, they suck. I think they might work for people who don't ever sweat, but when you walk every day (almost) and sweat, not only dooes the marker come off, so does the tape they put on. I had asked for more tape to put on but they assured me that I wouldn't need it. Hah! The tape has all come off. I went the pharmacy in Welland and got surgical tape to put on over their tape to try to hold it all together. I'm giving up though. I'll have to go back to the hospital on Friday to have the marks totally re-done I fear.
Someone suggested that I try henna. I think that's a great idea. I'll see if the hospital tech will use that. If not, I will when I get home so that the marks are at least semi-permanent (i.e. sweat-proof!).
Monday, 30 April 2012
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Oh ya, radiation update
Sorry - with all the angst I'm having over my neighbours, I totally forgot about radiation:)
On Monday I went for my "markings", required before my first rad treatment. I had heard conflicting things about whether the markings were permanent. They are actually permanent tatoos placed over the relevant area from which the rad technicians calculate where to beam their rays at you during treatment. No thank you!
I know, it seems rather inconsistent to now have a tatoo and yet turn my nose up at these new ones. This is especially so when everyone goes to great lengths to point out that the marks are so small - "you'll hardly ever notice them. They will be a reminder of your battle with cancer." Seriously, who wants that? I don't want any reminders of this: my hair will grow back (it can't possibly stay this white forever); my tatoo is a reminder of my kids and taking chances; and my boobs will be new and beautiful (i.e. bigger) when this is all over with. Plus, I really hate black.
I drove to the Cancer Centre on Monday. I know, I'm supposed to walk but the weather was so ugly and I was so tired from my weekend away with a bunch of 13 year old girls that I just didn't have it in me. I was shown where to gown, given a locker and told to wait in the waiting area. I put my jacket on over the gown - bloody cold it was. Eventually someone called out something close enough to my name that I got up and followed her. She started in about the tatoos and I interupted telling her that I didn't want them. She spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince me to get the tattos - but I'm glad that I didn't!
I lay on the table with my right arm over my head. Following the strict instructions that I received, I lay there limply while the two techs moved me around on the bed, lining me up to a laser. They made little dots on me and called out numbers to one another and then did a CT scan. Following that, there was nothing left to do but the marking.
The tech uncapped a blue Sharpie and went to work. I have five big blue crosses across my body: two on the right; two in the middle and one on the left. The markings come off in the shower, when you sweat and when you put on the cream they will give me to help ease the pain of the burn. To help with this, I got my very own Sharpie to periodically re-draw the lines! Sadly however I'm not allowed to re-draw them myself - I have to lay down, again with my arm overhead, and have someone else draw them. So far that's been Sydny's job and she's doing great.
I'm very anxious for the radiation to begin - well, actually for it to end. I'm determined to walk there and back daily. If I then fall into bed for the remainder of the day, so be it. Mom has complained that I'm too independent and haven't let her take care of me enough, so this may be her big chance. If the radiation and walking wipes me out then I'll leave it to her to do the groceries and cook supper:)
On Monday I went for my "markings", required before my first rad treatment. I had heard conflicting things about whether the markings were permanent. They are actually permanent tatoos placed over the relevant area from which the rad technicians calculate where to beam their rays at you during treatment. No thank you!
I know, it seems rather inconsistent to now have a tatoo and yet turn my nose up at these new ones. This is especially so when everyone goes to great lengths to point out that the marks are so small - "you'll hardly ever notice them. They will be a reminder of your battle with cancer." Seriously, who wants that? I don't want any reminders of this: my hair will grow back (it can't possibly stay this white forever); my tatoo is a reminder of my kids and taking chances; and my boobs will be new and beautiful (i.e. bigger) when this is all over with. Plus, I really hate black.
I drove to the Cancer Centre on Monday. I know, I'm supposed to walk but the weather was so ugly and I was so tired from my weekend away with a bunch of 13 year old girls that I just didn't have it in me. I was shown where to gown, given a locker and told to wait in the waiting area. I put my jacket on over the gown - bloody cold it was. Eventually someone called out something close enough to my name that I got up and followed her. She started in about the tatoos and I interupted telling her that I didn't want them. She spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince me to get the tattos - but I'm glad that I didn't!
I lay on the table with my right arm over my head. Following the strict instructions that I received, I lay there limply while the two techs moved me around on the bed, lining me up to a laser. They made little dots on me and called out numbers to one another and then did a CT scan. Following that, there was nothing left to do but the marking.
The tech uncapped a blue Sharpie and went to work. I have five big blue crosses across my body: two on the right; two in the middle and one on the left. The markings come off in the shower, when you sweat and when you put on the cream they will give me to help ease the pain of the burn. To help with this, I got my very own Sharpie to periodically re-draw the lines! Sadly however I'm not allowed to re-draw them myself - I have to lay down, again with my arm overhead, and have someone else draw them. So far that's been Sydny's job and she's doing great.
I'm very anxious for the radiation to begin - well, actually for it to end. I'm determined to walk there and back daily. If I then fall into bed for the remainder of the day, so be it. Mom has complained that I'm too independent and haven't let her take care of me enough, so this may be her big chance. If the radiation and walking wipes me out then I'll leave it to her to do the groceries and cook supper:)
I never thought I'd.....
In case anyone was still in doubt, having cancer has definitely been life altering. As Laurie keeps telling me, the first half of my life worked one way, but the second half of my life (that will start officially post-radiation) will be completely different. I will learn to be kind to myself and more gentle with others in all aspects of life. (At least this is my goal. I have no doubt that my friends, colleagues and family will let me know immediately when I veer off course)
Currently I'm struggling to get over my impatience with stupidity and meanness. I'm also trying to learn how to create challenges for myself that aren't "battles". I'm sure that I can find stimulation that doesn't involve a good battle - but instead a good challenge of a different nature. That is why I say, "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the thrill of work." To be clear, I know that I don't want to go back to a poisonous, overworked atmosphere, but I enjoyed working. The challenge now is to find a challenge that is healthy.
As for my challenge to find someone to perform a nipple sparing mastectomy in Ottawa, it sadly turned out to be no real challenge at all. I joined a breast cancer blog seeking advice and input and found that the surgery was in fact performed in Canada - in both B.C. and Alberta and eventually I heard from someone who had it performed in Toronto. Eureka! Toronto was definitely doable. However, things became even simpler after my last visit with doc Clemons. Although he and I discussed the matter previously, it wasn't until my last visit (the one where we had a party with so many people in the exam room) that he asked his resident to look into whether anyone in Ottawa would agree to take on such a difficult patient:) I got a call from a Doc Arnault at the Women's Breast Health Centre at the Civic Campus booking an appointment for early July. Apparently Arnault performs this operation. My only real concern is that this is where I had a biopsy without freezing and also where I had the PICC line inserted that bled so badly. I never thought I'd ever agree to go back to the Civic for anything - but I'll at least go and meet with Arnault and see what she's like and what she says. Never say never.
With that well in hand, and because I have time on my hands this summer but no real money, I have turned to my neglected back yard. Anyone who has seen it will know that it is really nothing more than a long thin mud heap with small patches of grass and weeds. The porch police told me that one of the previous owners got tired of painting the porches every year (who does that???) and that is why both my front and back porches are huge, ugly cement blocks. Ugh. The fence separating my yard from my neighbours to the north was made from old rusted wire and old plumbing pipes. I managed to get rid of that last summer but this led to increasing problems with that neighbour who started to come over on to my lawn to "fix it" and who let his dogs and grandchildren run across the entire expanse. Trying to eat supper while smelling (hence searching) for dog poop (the grandchildren presumably keep their diapers on) is not awesome. I tried to speak to the neighbour about this last year to little avail - he tried to physically threaten me however - which made me laugh. As if I haven't survived tougher battles than that! I never thought I'd have to deal with crazy neighbours once I left Barrhaven. I guess the 'burbs don't have a monopoly on crazy.
This summer the same neighbour started to dig a trench on my property. Seriously? He has already built a little wall on his side of the property (this after putting up a fence made of plastic chairs that was so far over the property line that it would have put my house in his back yard - I threw the chairs back onto his property) and now the trench from the corner of my foundation down the length of the yard - about a hundred feet. I went outside to speak to him about it. I know from this that my patience with stupidity needs work.
I stepped outside and started with, "Rene, I know you like to work in your garden, but I would appreciate it if you could simply stay in your yard and not dig in mine. That would be best."
"Oh," he replies, "I wanted to discuss this with you." (This AFTER he has dug a huge trench) "There is a puddle of water by the corner of your house and then your property has a bump all along its length that I'm trying to fix."
"Yes, but it's my puddle and my bump so please leave it alone."
"I know you just don't like to see me in my yard but I'm going to be here anyway." (I have no fucking clue)
"Rene, that comment is insulting to both of us and has nothing to do with what we are discussing. I have no position on your gardening - in fact it's great - just please leave my yard to me to deal with."
"But I have to look at this bump. And I think the puddle is cause by the work that I did in my yard."
"I agree that the work in your yard changed the grade of the property and is causing water to pool in spots in my yard. The solution however is for you to fix the grade in your yard, not dig trenches on mine."
"Well, why don't you just call the city and have them come and tell me what my grade is supposed to be? And why don't you go to City Hall and get the surveys of the property from them so I know where I can dig?" (and I can no longer even pretend to have patience!!)
"Seriously Rene? You want me to call the city? Sure, I will, but you have a pond that is more than two feet deep so they'll tell you to build a fence or fill it in! Also, I'm dealing with a few things," I say, pointing at my beautiful bald head, "So why don't you go off to City Hall and get the plans and find out about the property line yourself and your own bloody grade! I don't have any need to dig! Fill in the trench and leave everything alone!"
"Well, the dirt in your yard has run off of my property over the past several years so I'm going to take dirt from your yard to fill in the trench." AAAHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGG! You could have heard my scream on Vancouver Island, I swear it. "Stay off my property!" I have some work to do on the patience front. This is one reason why I cannot go back to work yet.
Let's turn now to my neighbour to the south. He and I have a fence that is intact. I presume that either he put it up or the previous owners of his property did b/c it's not made of old rusting pieces. It is a relatively new chain link fence and he grows some type of weed on it that gives some privacy between our yards during the summer. My only issue with the weed is that it grows into my poor lawn, so I trim it on my side and throw the tendrils back over to his side of the fence when I can.
This neighbour has accessed my driveway to work on his house on numerous occasions. He never gives me any notice, just trots up the drive. Mostly this is okay except when he hired roofers who peeked into my kitchen window one morning before 07:00 while I was sitting in my undies at the computer. I don't have curtains there. The only other problem is that my car is parked there and I worry about chips to the paint when he starts drilling on the stone foundation. I'm pretty good about moving it for that reason. I think I've been a good neighbour. We say hello to one another and not much else and I've never made any fuss about him on my property doing work.
As part of my lawn growth project this summer, I need to cut some trees. The trees are on his property but large branches come over my property resulting in almost exclusively shade in my back yard. I've tried all kinds of shade grass but nothing works. I approached him a couple of weeks ago to let him know that I'm getting estimates to see what it would cost to take down the trees - the parts over my lawn anyway. We discuss this and I tell him that I'll keep as much as possible of what is growing over his yard, i.e. if it comes over my yard but then back over his, I'll try to preserve it. He indicates that he doesn't want me to take down one large branch of a tree. No, that's exactly what I am taking down. I look over at him and ask him what his concern is. Apparently he's worried about killing the tree. (It's either a Manitoba Maple or a Hudson Maple - either way it's really just a big weed) No worries, I'm getting estimates from arborists - not Jack with a chainsaw, so we'll see what they say. I also did some research on my rights as a property owner in this situation. In Ontario, I don't need his permission to trim what's on my property, nor do I need to consult with him. I wouldn't do the work without speaking with him however. I promise to discuss the matter with him again when I hear what the arborists have to say.
I was away this past weekend in Vaughan, Ontario with Sydny at a swim meet. On my return, I notice a large pile of tree branches in MY back yard. I look up at the tree that we had discussed and my neighbour has hacked off a few branches - and dumped them in my yard! This is rather passive agressive at the best - downright hostile at the worst! What was he thinking? I haven't yet had the chance to speak with him about what I learned and what advice I got about cutting the trees: I certainly didn't ask him to cut anything for me. He has cut a few small branches that aren't going to give me any sun anyway. It was nice of him to try to help perhaps, but to leave the cuttings in my yard? I'm not sure what I did to deserve that! It constitutes a trespass to my property and I'll have to discuss it with him. The new me didn't go barging over there as soon as I spotted the problem like the old me would have done. The new me is trying to figure out how to deal with this without alienating yet another neighbour. I'm not sure which me is winning however. The old me would simply throw the branches back into his yard. The new me is considering trying to have a rational discussion with him.
I'll give the new approach a chance - but the old me is just dying to get out. I'll keep you posted on which me comes out in the end:)
Currently I'm struggling to get over my impatience with stupidity and meanness. I'm also trying to learn how to create challenges for myself that aren't "battles". I'm sure that I can find stimulation that doesn't involve a good battle - but instead a good challenge of a different nature. That is why I say, "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the thrill of work." To be clear, I know that I don't want to go back to a poisonous, overworked atmosphere, but I enjoyed working. The challenge now is to find a challenge that is healthy.
As for my challenge to find someone to perform a nipple sparing mastectomy in Ottawa, it sadly turned out to be no real challenge at all. I joined a breast cancer blog seeking advice and input and found that the surgery was in fact performed in Canada - in both B.C. and Alberta and eventually I heard from someone who had it performed in Toronto. Eureka! Toronto was definitely doable. However, things became even simpler after my last visit with doc Clemons. Although he and I discussed the matter previously, it wasn't until my last visit (the one where we had a party with so many people in the exam room) that he asked his resident to look into whether anyone in Ottawa would agree to take on such a difficult patient:) I got a call from a Doc Arnault at the Women's Breast Health Centre at the Civic Campus booking an appointment for early July. Apparently Arnault performs this operation. My only real concern is that this is where I had a biopsy without freezing and also where I had the PICC line inserted that bled so badly. I never thought I'd ever agree to go back to the Civic for anything - but I'll at least go and meet with Arnault and see what she's like and what she says. Never say never.
With that well in hand, and because I have time on my hands this summer but no real money, I have turned to my neglected back yard. Anyone who has seen it will know that it is really nothing more than a long thin mud heap with small patches of grass and weeds. The porch police told me that one of the previous owners got tired of painting the porches every year (who does that???) and that is why both my front and back porches are huge, ugly cement blocks. Ugh. The fence separating my yard from my neighbours to the north was made from old rusted wire and old plumbing pipes. I managed to get rid of that last summer but this led to increasing problems with that neighbour who started to come over on to my lawn to "fix it" and who let his dogs and grandchildren run across the entire expanse. Trying to eat supper while smelling (hence searching) for dog poop (the grandchildren presumably keep their diapers on) is not awesome. I tried to speak to the neighbour about this last year to little avail - he tried to physically threaten me however - which made me laugh. As if I haven't survived tougher battles than that! I never thought I'd have to deal with crazy neighbours once I left Barrhaven. I guess the 'burbs don't have a monopoly on crazy.
This summer the same neighbour started to dig a trench on my property. Seriously? He has already built a little wall on his side of the property (this after putting up a fence made of plastic chairs that was so far over the property line that it would have put my house in his back yard - I threw the chairs back onto his property) and now the trench from the corner of my foundation down the length of the yard - about a hundred feet. I went outside to speak to him about it. I know from this that my patience with stupidity needs work.
I stepped outside and started with, "Rene, I know you like to work in your garden, but I would appreciate it if you could simply stay in your yard and not dig in mine. That would be best."
"Oh," he replies, "I wanted to discuss this with you." (This AFTER he has dug a huge trench) "There is a puddle of water by the corner of your house and then your property has a bump all along its length that I'm trying to fix."
"Yes, but it's my puddle and my bump so please leave it alone."
"I know you just don't like to see me in my yard but I'm going to be here anyway." (I have no fucking clue)
"Rene, that comment is insulting to both of us and has nothing to do with what we are discussing. I have no position on your gardening - in fact it's great - just please leave my yard to me to deal with."
"But I have to look at this bump. And I think the puddle is cause by the work that I did in my yard."
"I agree that the work in your yard changed the grade of the property and is causing water to pool in spots in my yard. The solution however is for you to fix the grade in your yard, not dig trenches on mine."
"Well, why don't you just call the city and have them come and tell me what my grade is supposed to be? And why don't you go to City Hall and get the surveys of the property from them so I know where I can dig?" (and I can no longer even pretend to have patience!!)
"Seriously Rene? You want me to call the city? Sure, I will, but you have a pond that is more than two feet deep so they'll tell you to build a fence or fill it in! Also, I'm dealing with a few things," I say, pointing at my beautiful bald head, "So why don't you go off to City Hall and get the plans and find out about the property line yourself and your own bloody grade! I don't have any need to dig! Fill in the trench and leave everything alone!"
"Well, the dirt in your yard has run off of my property over the past several years so I'm going to take dirt from your yard to fill in the trench." AAAHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGG! You could have heard my scream on Vancouver Island, I swear it. "Stay off my property!" I have some work to do on the patience front. This is one reason why I cannot go back to work yet.
Let's turn now to my neighbour to the south. He and I have a fence that is intact. I presume that either he put it up or the previous owners of his property did b/c it's not made of old rusting pieces. It is a relatively new chain link fence and he grows some type of weed on it that gives some privacy between our yards during the summer. My only issue with the weed is that it grows into my poor lawn, so I trim it on my side and throw the tendrils back over to his side of the fence when I can.
This neighbour has accessed my driveway to work on his house on numerous occasions. He never gives me any notice, just trots up the drive. Mostly this is okay except when he hired roofers who peeked into my kitchen window one morning before 07:00 while I was sitting in my undies at the computer. I don't have curtains there. The only other problem is that my car is parked there and I worry about chips to the paint when he starts drilling on the stone foundation. I'm pretty good about moving it for that reason. I think I've been a good neighbour. We say hello to one another and not much else and I've never made any fuss about him on my property doing work.
As part of my lawn growth project this summer, I need to cut some trees. The trees are on his property but large branches come over my property resulting in almost exclusively shade in my back yard. I've tried all kinds of shade grass but nothing works. I approached him a couple of weeks ago to let him know that I'm getting estimates to see what it would cost to take down the trees - the parts over my lawn anyway. We discuss this and I tell him that I'll keep as much as possible of what is growing over his yard, i.e. if it comes over my yard but then back over his, I'll try to preserve it. He indicates that he doesn't want me to take down one large branch of a tree. No, that's exactly what I am taking down. I look over at him and ask him what his concern is. Apparently he's worried about killing the tree. (It's either a Manitoba Maple or a Hudson Maple - either way it's really just a big weed) No worries, I'm getting estimates from arborists - not Jack with a chainsaw, so we'll see what they say. I also did some research on my rights as a property owner in this situation. In Ontario, I don't need his permission to trim what's on my property, nor do I need to consult with him. I wouldn't do the work without speaking with him however. I promise to discuss the matter with him again when I hear what the arborists have to say.
I was away this past weekend in Vaughan, Ontario with Sydny at a swim meet. On my return, I notice a large pile of tree branches in MY back yard. I look up at the tree that we had discussed and my neighbour has hacked off a few branches - and dumped them in my yard! This is rather passive agressive at the best - downright hostile at the worst! What was he thinking? I haven't yet had the chance to speak with him about what I learned and what advice I got about cutting the trees: I certainly didn't ask him to cut anything for me. He has cut a few small branches that aren't going to give me any sun anyway. It was nice of him to try to help perhaps, but to leave the cuttings in my yard? I'm not sure what I did to deserve that! It constitutes a trespass to my property and I'll have to discuss it with him. The new me didn't go barging over there as soon as I spotted the problem like the old me would have done. The new me is trying to figure out how to deal with this without alienating yet another neighbour. I'm not sure which me is winning however. The old me would simply throw the branches back into his yard. The new me is considering trying to have a rational discussion with him.
I'll give the new approach a chance - but the old me is just dying to get out. I'll keep you posted on which me comes out in the end:)
Thursday, 12 April 2012
Confessions of a Hypochondriac
My bliss following the last chemo session was somewhat dampened by the discovery of a lump - this time in the left breast! What horrible person was I in my last life that this could possibly happen? How is it that tumours can develop at the same time as one's body is being poisoned with chemo drugs? This tumour must be HUGE too, because I could feel it - whereas they removed three tumours from the right side and I could never find them.
Accompanying all the drama in my brain were doubts that I could start this process again with the same attitude that got me through it the first time. Sure, there were benefits: my nails have grown out for the first time in my life, I got an awesome tattoo, I am going to grow curly red hair, I got away from the office and I met a whole bunch of awesome people. But what additional benefits could there possibly be from doing this all over again so soon?
My first thought was to rush in to see Doc S, but then I remembered that I already have an oncologist, and who better to look at my lumps? And my next appointment with Doc Clemons/his resident (whose name I really have to get sorted out as she is lovely) was already scheduled for April 11 - I just needed to stay zen (ha ha) until then and not panic.
So, I pushed the lump as far back in my mind as I possibly could and only thought of it about twenty times a day. I glued on my smile and got to work trying to get back into shape after my five months of inactivity. It is shocking how quickly one loses muscle tone. I'm like one big lump of dough. I had been doing a little walking over the winter - but never long and only very sporadically (i.e. to run a quick errand or when Laurie came over to drag me out) and I started doing longer walks and some very light yoga - the kind where you only get off the yoga mat to re-position the cushions and lay back down. Laurie calls this yoga for Donna:) This past week however I walked on average 10km every day but one. Laurie convinced me to try a BodyArt class at our gym - which was awesome (and resulted in muscle pain for three days following) and she and I did a hot Yin class as well. It felt great to be moving again and helped keep me relatively peaceful while I waited to see the Docs.
Finally the day arrived. I tied up my sneakers and turned my iPod volume up loud and headed out for the 4km walk to the hospital. I left rather early because my housekeeper was here and I get in her way if I hang around. I brought a book to keep me company for the half hour that I would have to sit. On the way there I planned my pitch to the lovely Hazel. How do I broach the subject? This entire time when asked how I'm doing the answer has always been pretty easy - I'm great, considering. Maybe a minor little thing that needs to be addressed - but really blessedly lucky. How do I tell Hazel that something's gone wrong? I felt like I would be letting her down, betraying the comraderie that we had established. Disappointing Hazel, even, with my marked inability to beat the shit out of this cancer thing on the first go. YIKES!
About half way to the hospital I had my plan of attack prepared: I would tell Hazel that I wanted the doc to tell me that I am a hypochondriac. There must be a simple explanation for how giant lumps appear during chemo and perhaps a good shrink could help me with my newest psychosis. Excellent, I love having a plan.
I arrived at the hospital to a sign behind reception that Doc Clemons was running an hour behind schedule! Good thing that, in addition to my book, I packed a snack. I settled in, mind settled on my plan of attack, and thought of the lump only continuously. It didn't seem long before Hazel was calling out "Donna" and searching for my bald dome (which is no longer truly bald - I sport a full head of white fuzz now). We headed off to the exam room and Hazel asked how everything was going. "A slight bump in the road I'm afraid - literally. The Doc needs to tell me that I'm a hypochondriac because I found a lump on the left side." I cannot tell you how reassuring the look from Hazel was. It said, "You're an idiot", which is exactly what I needed to hear. She threw a gown at me and said, "We'll take a look." I changed - and put my jacket back on because the hospital was FREEZING and stuck my nose back into my book and waited.
The Resident came in and I told her what I found and she proceeded to examine me. She told me she was sure that it was just fibrous tissue, but she would have Doc Clemons come in and double check. She then asked me what I had eaten? Huh? How is what I just ate in any way related to this lump? I just stared at her. "Your mouth is blue." I went to the mirror - and sure enough my tongue and lips were blue. I had stolen a candy from the dish that was out at reception - I'll never do that again.
Clemons came in after a few moments with a student doc in tow. The absue began immediately, "Hello Trouble. Just making things up to see me?" Yup! His examination begins - first sitting up and then laying down. And he starts asking the student questions. "Other than the fact that this patient is insane, what are the clinical signs that we are looking for?" "What is the number one thing wrong with all lawyers?" On and on. There I am, on the table with my gown open and it's bloody cold and these two are having a great time. And the Resident is there too - so it's basically a party and I feel like the buffet table. Next the student gets to examine me. Now I want someone to stick an apple in my mouth like a stuffed pig. She touches me and I let out a yelp. "Okay, one thing you definitely need to learn is that you cannot touch patients with hands that cold. Rub them together to warm them at least a little! I'm sure you have a very warm heart though." Clemons was killing himself laughing. "Oh, she'll teach you some things for sure", he told the poor student. She tried the examiination again, with Clemons telling her what she was feeling. And I am happy to report that I am merely a hypochondriac.
Apparently chemo often effects the nature of the breast tissue and in this case it has created some lumps in mine. I'm sure that this possibility is outlined somewhere in all of the literature that I was given - but seriously, who could retain all that info - even if they read it in the first place? All three docs could apparently feel fibrous material running in cords from the lump - which they taught me is a good thing. We'll keep an eye on it to make sure that it doesn't get any worse, but no one is worried at all - including me.
With Hazel's disparaging look now taking the place of the lump in my mind's eye, my steps on the walk home were much lighter.
Accompanying all the drama in my brain were doubts that I could start this process again with the same attitude that got me through it the first time. Sure, there were benefits: my nails have grown out for the first time in my life, I got an awesome tattoo, I am going to grow curly red hair, I got away from the office and I met a whole bunch of awesome people. But what additional benefits could there possibly be from doing this all over again so soon?
My first thought was to rush in to see Doc S, but then I remembered that I already have an oncologist, and who better to look at my lumps? And my next appointment with Doc Clemons/his resident (whose name I really have to get sorted out as she is lovely) was already scheduled for April 11 - I just needed to stay zen (ha ha) until then and not panic.
So, I pushed the lump as far back in my mind as I possibly could and only thought of it about twenty times a day. I glued on my smile and got to work trying to get back into shape after my five months of inactivity. It is shocking how quickly one loses muscle tone. I'm like one big lump of dough. I had been doing a little walking over the winter - but never long and only very sporadically (i.e. to run a quick errand or when Laurie came over to drag me out) and I started doing longer walks and some very light yoga - the kind where you only get off the yoga mat to re-position the cushions and lay back down. Laurie calls this yoga for Donna:) This past week however I walked on average 10km every day but one. Laurie convinced me to try a BodyArt class at our gym - which was awesome (and resulted in muscle pain for three days following) and she and I did a hot Yin class as well. It felt great to be moving again and helped keep me relatively peaceful while I waited to see the Docs.
Finally the day arrived. I tied up my sneakers and turned my iPod volume up loud and headed out for the 4km walk to the hospital. I left rather early because my housekeeper was here and I get in her way if I hang around. I brought a book to keep me company for the half hour that I would have to sit. On the way there I planned my pitch to the lovely Hazel. How do I broach the subject? This entire time when asked how I'm doing the answer has always been pretty easy - I'm great, considering. Maybe a minor little thing that needs to be addressed - but really blessedly lucky. How do I tell Hazel that something's gone wrong? I felt like I would be letting her down, betraying the comraderie that we had established. Disappointing Hazel, even, with my marked inability to beat the shit out of this cancer thing on the first go. YIKES!
About half way to the hospital I had my plan of attack prepared: I would tell Hazel that I wanted the doc to tell me that I am a hypochondriac. There must be a simple explanation for how giant lumps appear during chemo and perhaps a good shrink could help me with my newest psychosis. Excellent, I love having a plan.
I arrived at the hospital to a sign behind reception that Doc Clemons was running an hour behind schedule! Good thing that, in addition to my book, I packed a snack. I settled in, mind settled on my plan of attack, and thought of the lump only continuously. It didn't seem long before Hazel was calling out "Donna" and searching for my bald dome (which is no longer truly bald - I sport a full head of white fuzz now). We headed off to the exam room and Hazel asked how everything was going. "A slight bump in the road I'm afraid - literally. The Doc needs to tell me that I'm a hypochondriac because I found a lump on the left side." I cannot tell you how reassuring the look from Hazel was. It said, "You're an idiot", which is exactly what I needed to hear. She threw a gown at me and said, "We'll take a look." I changed - and put my jacket back on because the hospital was FREEZING and stuck my nose back into my book and waited.
The Resident came in and I told her what I found and she proceeded to examine me. She told me she was sure that it was just fibrous tissue, but she would have Doc Clemons come in and double check. She then asked me what I had eaten? Huh? How is what I just ate in any way related to this lump? I just stared at her. "Your mouth is blue." I went to the mirror - and sure enough my tongue and lips were blue. I had stolen a candy from the dish that was out at reception - I'll never do that again.
Clemons came in after a few moments with a student doc in tow. The absue began immediately, "Hello Trouble. Just making things up to see me?" Yup! His examination begins - first sitting up and then laying down. And he starts asking the student questions. "Other than the fact that this patient is insane, what are the clinical signs that we are looking for?" "What is the number one thing wrong with all lawyers?" On and on. There I am, on the table with my gown open and it's bloody cold and these two are having a great time. And the Resident is there too - so it's basically a party and I feel like the buffet table. Next the student gets to examine me. Now I want someone to stick an apple in my mouth like a stuffed pig. She touches me and I let out a yelp. "Okay, one thing you definitely need to learn is that you cannot touch patients with hands that cold. Rub them together to warm them at least a little! I'm sure you have a very warm heart though." Clemons was killing himself laughing. "Oh, she'll teach you some things for sure", he told the poor student. She tried the examiination again, with Clemons telling her what she was feeling. And I am happy to report that I am merely a hypochondriac.
Apparently chemo often effects the nature of the breast tissue and in this case it has created some lumps in mine. I'm sure that this possibility is outlined somewhere in all of the literature that I was given - but seriously, who could retain all that info - even if they read it in the first place? All three docs could apparently feel fibrous material running in cords from the lump - which they taught me is a good thing. We'll keep an eye on it to make sure that it doesn't get any worse, but no one is worried at all - including me.
With Hazel's disparaging look now taking the place of the lump in my mind's eye, my steps on the walk home were much lighter.
Friday, 6 April 2012
Next Battle
I keep hearing from people that I am not blogging enough. I find this shocking - perhaps you don't realize how completely boring my life has become? Honestly, I mostly sleep and do paperwork and cook. However, I have started my next battle in earnest now so I've decided to share it with all of you and I would love to have your input and even assistance on this one.
My decision to have a partial mastectomy (or lumpectomy in the language abhorred by Doc Mirsky) was frankly easy when Mirsky told me that a total mastectomy would result in the removal of my nipple. Honestly, I'm way too young and way too single to have contemplated that. However, nipple sparing mastectomies are possible and I may be a great candidate. My information so far is that they are not available in Canada - and my next quest is to change that. I am in a high risk for recurrence category and, as much fun as this adventure has been, I do not want to repeat it.
And they can now take the fat from a woman's belly and move it up to her breasts, so I gotta tell you, that is total Nirvana! As Syd eloquently put it, "You'll be thin with big breasts!" How could I possibly turn my back on that!?
Here is a link to an article on the procedure. I'll keep posting info as I come across it. I need to find out first why this isn't done in Canada - specifically Ottawa. Wish me luck!
http://www.webmd.com/breast-cancer/news/20040212/nipple-sparing-mastectomy-is-possible
My decision to have a partial mastectomy (or lumpectomy in the language abhorred by Doc Mirsky) was frankly easy when Mirsky told me that a total mastectomy would result in the removal of my nipple. Honestly, I'm way too young and way too single to have contemplated that. However, nipple sparing mastectomies are possible and I may be a great candidate. My information so far is that they are not available in Canada - and my next quest is to change that. I am in a high risk for recurrence category and, as much fun as this adventure has been, I do not want to repeat it.
And they can now take the fat from a woman's belly and move it up to her breasts, so I gotta tell you, that is total Nirvana! As Syd eloquently put it, "You'll be thin with big breasts!" How could I possibly turn my back on that!?
Here is a link to an article on the procedure. I'll keep posting info as I come across it. I need to find out first why this isn't done in Canada - specifically Ottawa. Wish me luck!
http://www.webmd.com/breast-cancer/news/20040212/nipple-sparing-mastectomy-is-possible
Thursday, 5 April 2012
It's finished!
I am well and truly loved. Thank you to everyone for the wonderful support through your presence, e-mail messages, flowers, balloons and even chocolate! (I did manage to hide the latter from my kids:))
The day started quite early Friday - something I am totally unused to. It's strange to no longer be an early morning person. In law school I was up at 04:00 every morning reading and then going for a run - mostly so that I could goof off all day. When I worked before children I liked to be at the office before 07:00 to get in alot of work before the disruptions began. Even after I had kids, we would all get up early and spend hours cuddling before I headed into the office. (I realize this is my memory playing tricks on me b/c I'm sure the hours were also filled with dirty diapers, dressing kids, feeding kids, fighting with snowsuits and finding lost mittens - but it is the cuddles that I remember the most.)
For the last ten years or so I only slept about 4 hours a night, and so pretty much any time after midnight was fair game. I remember once sleeping 8 hours and feeling so great the next day. Imagine how nice I would have been had I gotten that much sleep regularly? Now, rolling out of bed at 08:00 after nine hours of sleep seems like cruel and unusual punishment and there are many days that I never get out of bed except to eat!
So, you can understand how difficult actually being at the hospital for 08:00 was - but it was also very exciting to be going in for the last treatment. Sydny, always ready to play hookey for the day, came with me. She's still complaining about the early hour as well. Laurie volunteered to spend the entire time with me but I managed to talk her out of it. Really, I sleep alot of the time and it's FIVE hours long. Syd was great at first - but it wasn't long before she crawled into the bed and left me only a small sliver on the edge to which I clung, hoping not to fall of and rip out my PICC line before its time.
We arrived at the hospital only minutes before 08:00 and registered. I got sent to Pod 6 - my fave pod. Syd chose the bed closest to the windows and we settled into bright sunshine. I had managed on Thursday to make about 100 mini cupcakes as a thank you to the wonderful nurses and so we took those in with us and they took them to the staff room. (there were spice cake and lemon cake ones all covered in cream cheese icing - yum! - yes, I tasted tested them!)
My first nurse was Maureen who I've had before and she is a lovely woman. We got all set up and did the vitals, etc. while Sydny played bored. As we had not had time for coffee in the morning, Syd did make a trip to Tim's for some refreshments and it was nice to have someone there to do that for me. Other than that, Syd sat in a chair beside my bed, with her feet draped over my legs, and read and asked, "Are you high yet? Are you high yet?" However, when I did get high, I had the impression that Sydny was very disappointed in my behaviour. I'm not sure what she was expecting, but other than feeling light headed and unsure on my feet, I usually try to close my eyes and rest to avoid saying anything stupid to any of the poor nurses.
One of the worst things about receiving bags and bags of fluid through IV is the frequent need for the washroom. This is how Syd managed to work her way into my bed. I returned from a trip down the hall and there she was, well ensconced. And so the day passed with good tripping, frequent trips down the hall and much negotiation and maneuvering for bed space.
Around 12:15 JMc showed up and kept us company. She was followed shortly be KB, and then brother Bill and Laurie. Laurie brought a huge bouquet of purple and turquoise balloons, including a butterfly balloon and fake champagne (aka sparkling juice, aka champagna) for the celebration. Shortly after that Mon and C showed up - which was great for Syd as she and C swim together. The party began!
Maureen came over to say good-bye and good luck as she was off on break and Cathy took over. It was wonderful symmetry as Cathy was my nurse during my first chemo treatment. She never lost her patience as she struggled to work around the boisterous crowd gathered round my bed - drinking and playing with balloons. My fellow Pod 6 residents were very gracious and patient with the ruckus, taking photos of the gang and wishing me the best of luck.
N.B.: I have video of Syd and C as well as video of the PICC removal that are both hilarious to watch. Unfortunately, Apple has removed the save video function from its Quicktime and is compelling users to purchase QuickTime 7 Pro for $30 in order to be able to save video taken on an Iphone. After 51 minutes on the phone with two of the most obtuse persons I have ever had to deal, I realize that I can't get no satisfaction from Apple. Sadly therefore, these videos (including renditions of "I'm about to lose control" and "Follow the yellow brick road") are not currently available. And I was thinking about purchasing a MAC. Hah!
After warming my arm in hot towels and heating pads, it was time for removal of that damed PICC. Cathy had assured me that it would be nothing - but I couldn't look. Syd was blissfully distracted by C which was great as Syd tends to pass out at the slightest provocation (like when I can home after surgery and she took one look at me and down she went!) I couldn't look at first but as I realized that I wasn't feeling anything at all, I slowly screwed up the courage to look. Singing ensued:) Cathy apologetically put yet another bandage on my poor arm and warned me to not let it get wet for 48 hours. She also gave me extra bandages, knowiing damned well that I was going to rip the first one off and let my skin get some air. After 14 weeks under water-proof, air tight bandages, my skin was in pretty bad shape.
There was now nothing between me and that bell. The whole gang meandered down the hallway for ringing and posing and laughter. A seriously grand way to end chemo. It took a while to get Syd out of the frame - but we managed eventually. Seriously, who's the star here?
The only hitch now is that the chemo lab sent me a letter with another chemo date...........I need to call them asap to get that sorted!
I still have to go back for shots for the denosamab clinical trial - but that's nothing compared to the 16 weeks of chemo. I go for markings on April 23 and radiation begins on May 7. My plan is to walk to the hospital and back each day (roughly 4 km each way) provided that my skin doesn't burn so badly that movement is painful. On the other hand, as it is now legal for women to be topless in Ottawa, you may just see me cycling topless to get a beautiful breeze cooling off my skin after radiation:)
The day started quite early Friday - something I am totally unused to. It's strange to no longer be an early morning person. In law school I was up at 04:00 every morning reading and then going for a run - mostly so that I could goof off all day. When I worked before children I liked to be at the office before 07:00 to get in alot of work before the disruptions began. Even after I had kids, we would all get up early and spend hours cuddling before I headed into the office. (I realize this is my memory playing tricks on me b/c I'm sure the hours were also filled with dirty diapers, dressing kids, feeding kids, fighting with snowsuits and finding lost mittens - but it is the cuddles that I remember the most.)
For the last ten years or so I only slept about 4 hours a night, and so pretty much any time after midnight was fair game. I remember once sleeping 8 hours and feeling so great the next day. Imagine how nice I would have been had I gotten that much sleep regularly? Now, rolling out of bed at 08:00 after nine hours of sleep seems like cruel and unusual punishment and there are many days that I never get out of bed except to eat!
So, you can understand how difficult actually being at the hospital for 08:00 was - but it was also very exciting to be going in for the last treatment. Sydny, always ready to play hookey for the day, came with me. She's still complaining about the early hour as well. Laurie volunteered to spend the entire time with me but I managed to talk her out of it. Really, I sleep alot of the time and it's FIVE hours long. Syd was great at first - but it wasn't long before she crawled into the bed and left me only a small sliver on the edge to which I clung, hoping not to fall of and rip out my PICC line before its time.
We arrived at the hospital only minutes before 08:00 and registered. I got sent to Pod 6 - my fave pod. Syd chose the bed closest to the windows and we settled into bright sunshine. I had managed on Thursday to make about 100 mini cupcakes as a thank you to the wonderful nurses and so we took those in with us and they took them to the staff room. (there were spice cake and lemon cake ones all covered in cream cheese icing - yum! - yes, I tasted tested them!)
My first nurse was Maureen who I've had before and she is a lovely woman. We got all set up and did the vitals, etc. while Sydny played bored. As we had not had time for coffee in the morning, Syd did make a trip to Tim's for some refreshments and it was nice to have someone there to do that for me. Other than that, Syd sat in a chair beside my bed, with her feet draped over my legs, and read and asked, "Are you high yet? Are you high yet?" However, when I did get high, I had the impression that Sydny was very disappointed in my behaviour. I'm not sure what she was expecting, but other than feeling light headed and unsure on my feet, I usually try to close my eyes and rest to avoid saying anything stupid to any of the poor nurses.
One of the worst things about receiving bags and bags of fluid through IV is the frequent need for the washroom. This is how Syd managed to work her way into my bed. I returned from a trip down the hall and there she was, well ensconced. And so the day passed with good tripping, frequent trips down the hall and much negotiation and maneuvering for bed space.
Around 12:15 JMc showed up and kept us company. She was followed shortly be KB, and then brother Bill and Laurie. Laurie brought a huge bouquet of purple and turquoise balloons, including a butterfly balloon and fake champagne (aka sparkling juice, aka champagna) for the celebration. Shortly after that Mon and C showed up - which was great for Syd as she and C swim together. The party began!
Maureen came over to say good-bye and good luck as she was off on break and Cathy took over. It was wonderful symmetry as Cathy was my nurse during my first chemo treatment. She never lost her patience as she struggled to work around the boisterous crowd gathered round my bed - drinking and playing with balloons. My fellow Pod 6 residents were very gracious and patient with the ruckus, taking photos of the gang and wishing me the best of luck.
N.B.: I have video of Syd and C as well as video of the PICC removal that are both hilarious to watch. Unfortunately, Apple has removed the save video function from its Quicktime and is compelling users to purchase QuickTime 7 Pro for $30 in order to be able to save video taken on an Iphone. After 51 minutes on the phone with two of the most obtuse persons I have ever had to deal, I realize that I can't get no satisfaction from Apple. Sadly therefore, these videos (including renditions of "I'm about to lose control" and "Follow the yellow brick road") are not currently available. And I was thinking about purchasing a MAC. Hah!
After warming my arm in hot towels and heating pads, it was time for removal of that damed PICC. Cathy had assured me that it would be nothing - but I couldn't look. Syd was blissfully distracted by C which was great as Syd tends to pass out at the slightest provocation (like when I can home after surgery and she took one look at me and down she went!) I couldn't look at first but as I realized that I wasn't feeling anything at all, I slowly screwed up the courage to look. Singing ensued:) Cathy apologetically put yet another bandage on my poor arm and warned me to not let it get wet for 48 hours. She also gave me extra bandages, knowiing damned well that I was going to rip the first one off and let my skin get some air. After 14 weeks under water-proof, air tight bandages, my skin was in pretty bad shape.
There was now nothing between me and that bell. The whole gang meandered down the hallway for ringing and posing and laughter. A seriously grand way to end chemo. It took a while to get Syd out of the frame - but we managed eventually. Seriously, who's the star here?
The only hitch now is that the chemo lab sent me a letter with another chemo date...........I need to call them asap to get that sorted!
I still have to go back for shots for the denosamab clinical trial - but that's nothing compared to the 16 weeks of chemo. I go for markings on April 23 and radiation begins on May 7. My plan is to walk to the hospital and back each day (roughly 4 km each way) provided that my skin doesn't burn so badly that movement is painful. On the other hand, as it is now legal for women to be topless in Ottawa, you may just see me cycling topless to get a beautiful breeze cooling off my skin after radiation:)
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