March 9, 2010
Women are absolutely the best! There's an understanding between women that is impossible to put into words. Like an underground river, deep and powerful, connecting feelings, dramas, joy and sadness. Even if you have only one woman friend, you are never alone!
One of the best things about my rowing club is the women. (Any male members reading this..... I love you too!!). We come in a range of shapes, ages and sizes, different backgrounds, professions and interests, united by our common bond as oarswomen. We train together, compete against each other and spend happy days on riverbanks cheering our teams at regattas.
It didn't take long for word to get out that things weren't 100% in my breast department, and I was buoyed by a huge wave of positive thought for my surgery. My good friend L, also a cancer warrior, asked if people could come to see me for breakfast one day. I was thrilled, of course I wanted to see everyone! And thank goodness for the warning - gave me time to vacuum the floors!
The energy from a roomful of women is almost tangible. I was too sore to hug anyone, but there was a lot of mental hugging and healing coming my way. Girlfriends are the best!! Thank you to all my wonderful friends. You are sending me fantastic vibes. Don't stop!!
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast cancer. Show all posts
Monday, March 29, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
The pets.....
February 26, 2010
Toby, our dog, and the two cats, Phoebe and Barnaby, knew something was up because for the past couple of months I hadn't been able to move around the house without tripping over all three of them. They say animals can sniff out cancer so maybe their constant presence underfoot was their way of saying: "Oh mighty goddess, You of the hand that feeds us, Rise and and Heal thyself through our Love and Devotion."
It's not easy coming to grips with having a life-threatening disease when you feel as healthy as I do. I look in the mirror and it's the same old me. Yet there is a little army of cancer cells on a slow patrol in my right breast. Random questions come to mind: Why that particular breast? How long have they been there? Would they go away by themselves if I stopped having wine with dinner? Or promised to stop eating chocolate?
For as long as I can remember, I've done all the right things. Always exercised. Always eaten well, mostly that life-enhancing Mediterranean diet. I was a vegetarian for many years. Did yoga. Laughed a lot with friends. Yet, I guess, this wasn't enough to avoid the big C.
I wonder how many people have cancer without knowing it and without it developing into anything. When I had the biopsy 15 years ago and they found LCIS cells I asked: "How do you know that this is abnormal? Suppose you did a biopsy of every 44 year old woman..... how do you know they wouldn't all have these cells??" They thought that was a good question, but they had no answer. It's all a big mystery. Like the Twilight Zone. I've entered the hidden portal.
Toby, our dog, and the two cats, Phoebe and Barnaby, knew something was up because for the past couple of months I hadn't been able to move around the house without tripping over all three of them. They say animals can sniff out cancer so maybe their constant presence underfoot was their way of saying: "Oh mighty goddess, You of the hand that feeds us, Rise and and Heal thyself through our Love and Devotion."
It's not easy coming to grips with having a life-threatening disease when you feel as healthy as I do. I look in the mirror and it's the same old me. Yet there is a little army of cancer cells on a slow patrol in my right breast. Random questions come to mind: Why that particular breast? How long have they been there? Would they go away by themselves if I stopped having wine with dinner? Or promised to stop eating chocolate?
For as long as I can remember, I've done all the right things. Always exercised. Always eaten well, mostly that life-enhancing Mediterranean diet. I was a vegetarian for many years. Did yoga. Laughed a lot with friends. Yet, I guess, this wasn't enough to avoid the big C.
I wonder how many people have cancer without knowing it and without it developing into anything. When I had the biopsy 15 years ago and they found LCIS cells I asked: "How do you know that this is abnormal? Suppose you did a biopsy of every 44 year old woman..... how do you know they wouldn't all have these cells??" They thought that was a good question, but they had no answer. It's all a big mystery. Like the Twilight Zone. I've entered the hidden portal.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Where's Dr House when you need him??
February 23.
Not content with the breast drill and nail gun biopsy routine, She Who Knows Best, i.e. my wonderful Dr Ward decided that more investigation was needed. "Into the MRI machine with you," she declared, so my pal M. volunteered to spend the morning at the hospital while I was subjected to yet another horrendously expensive torture.
MRIs are those machines that all Dr House's patients end up in sooner or later, while the doctors have meaningful conversations about their love lives as the patient has a seizure. Let me just tell you first of all that not everyone goes into the MRI machine lying comfortably on their back to have a mid-morning snooze. The MRI room looks like something in a nuclear bunker..... DANGER. DO NOT CROSS THE LINE. Yellow tape and buzzers. All high security so you feel a bit weird standing there in your underwear.
I'm not quite sure why I found it so irritating to be called "honey" and "sweetie" by someone by daughters' age as I lay face down, clad only in white knickers, boobs hanging through holes in the table, arms stretched above my head like a diver, but I did. I'm sorry. She was really very nice. I'm not one for too much formality, but I think in the circumstances I would have liked a bit more respect. "Are you all right, Mrs.....?" as the machine hammered and clattered, ear-splittingly, for 45 minutes.
When it was finally over and she came to help me up, I said "Wow, how do older people keep still in that position for so long?". She looked at me oddly. If ever there was a disconnect, this was it. She obviously couldn't fathom why I, an older person, would ask such a dumb question. I, on the other hand, am no way an older person.... I was talking about seriously older people, like my mother, for goodness sakes. Oh my. Treacherous territory.....
Not content with the breast drill and nail gun biopsy routine, She Who Knows Best, i.e. my wonderful Dr Ward decided that more investigation was needed. "Into the MRI machine with you," she declared, so my pal M. volunteered to spend the morning at the hospital while I was subjected to yet another horrendously expensive torture.
MRIs are those machines that all Dr House's patients end up in sooner or later, while the doctors have meaningful conversations about their love lives as the patient has a seizure. Let me just tell you first of all that not everyone goes into the MRI machine lying comfortably on their back to have a mid-morning snooze. The MRI room looks like something in a nuclear bunker..... DANGER. DO NOT CROSS THE LINE. Yellow tape and buzzers. All high security so you feel a bit weird standing there in your underwear.
I'm not quite sure why I found it so irritating to be called "honey" and "sweetie" by someone by daughters' age as I lay face down, clad only in white knickers, boobs hanging through holes in the table, arms stretched above my head like a diver, but I did. I'm sorry. She was really very nice. I'm not one for too much formality, but I think in the circumstances I would have liked a bit more respect. "Are you all right, Mrs.....?" as the machine hammered and clattered, ear-splittingly, for 45 minutes.
When it was finally over and she came to help me up, I said "Wow, how do older people keep still in that position for so long?". She looked at me oddly. If ever there was a disconnect, this was it. She obviously couldn't fathom why I, an older person, would ask such a dumb question. I, on the other hand, am no way an older person.... I was talking about seriously older people, like my mother, for goodness sakes. Oh my. Treacherous territory.....
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Anniversary
February 11th, 2010. Peter and I have been married for 3 years!! Should be out buying flowers and preparing candlelit supper instead of heading off for the annual breast mashing torture. Wonder why I booked it for today? Mystery.....
You women all know the routine, strip to the waist, get into position face jammed against cold metal and breast flattened to the weirdest shape, stop breathing and pray the machine doesn't jam. "Sit here while we check the pictures". Fine, few more minutes to catch up on People. Peter doesn't understand why I read this stuff, but of course that's how I know a lot of the answers to the crossword puzzle clues! "Just one more picture". Yea, yea. Heard it before. Click, clunk. "Wait out there and they'll come and get you for your ultrasound."
Fifteen years ago I had a funky mammo and they biopsied the breast. The microcalcifications were irrelevant, but the pathologist found something called LCIS, lobular carcinoma in situ. Never heard of it. Is it bad, I asked the doctor. Well..... it's a marker for increased risk to 1 in 4 or 5. You should be checked every year. OK, that's easy. Sword of Damocles but not worth worrying about. So that's why the ultrasound as well as the mammogram.
Ultrasounds are easy. Cold goopy stuff and you can doze while they scan you. This time they seemed to be taking a long time and there's a very sore spot they keep running over. Ouch. Probably a cyst. If it hurts, then that's good, right?
Next stop, to my breast cancer surgeon (even though I don't believe I have cancer since LCIS is not real cancer, at least not in my mind!). Dr Ward is fantastic, one of the best in the US. She's already had the radiologist on the phone and seen my ultrasound. Noone seems to like that little benign cyst they kept squeezing. They want to biopsy it in a few days. For heaven's sake. It's a cyst!
Slightly aggravated at this turn of events, I head off home.
You women all know the routine, strip to the waist, get into position face jammed against cold metal and breast flattened to the weirdest shape, stop breathing and pray the machine doesn't jam. "Sit here while we check the pictures". Fine, few more minutes to catch up on People. Peter doesn't understand why I read this stuff, but of course that's how I know a lot of the answers to the crossword puzzle clues! "Just one more picture". Yea, yea. Heard it before. Click, clunk. "Wait out there and they'll come and get you for your ultrasound."
Fifteen years ago I had a funky mammo and they biopsied the breast. The microcalcifications were irrelevant, but the pathologist found something called LCIS, lobular carcinoma in situ. Never heard of it. Is it bad, I asked the doctor. Well..... it's a marker for increased risk to 1 in 4 or 5. You should be checked every year. OK, that's easy. Sword of Damocles but not worth worrying about. So that's why the ultrasound as well as the mammogram.
Ultrasounds are easy. Cold goopy stuff and you can doze while they scan you. This time they seemed to be taking a long time and there's a very sore spot they keep running over. Ouch. Probably a cyst. If it hurts, then that's good, right?
Next stop, to my breast cancer surgeon (even though I don't believe I have cancer since LCIS is not real cancer, at least not in my mind!). Dr Ward is fantastic, one of the best in the US. She's already had the radiologist on the phone and seen my ultrasound. Noone seems to like that little benign cyst they kept squeezing. They want to biopsy it in a few days. For heaven's sake. It's a cyst!
Slightly aggravated at this turn of events, I head off home.
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