Lots to report today…

I’m happy to report that my appointment yesterday with Dr. Sweatman was a great one.  He “officially” told me that I had clear margins (from the tumor removal) and the sentinel nodes that were removed were negative for cancer!  “Clear margins” (in my unofficial, non-medical explanation) is just another way of saying that enough tissue was removed.  Dr. Sweatman not only removed my tumor, but also surrounding tissue, until he felt it was clear of all cancer cells.  (The tissue is biopsied for an official report.)  Many times, the margins may not be clear, in which case, the surgeon will go back into the body around the tumor site and remove more tissue until clear (i.e. non-cancer) margins (tissue) are found.  Thankfully, all was clear with me!  Yay!  I return to Dr. Sweatman in three weeks, and Dr. Butler, my oncologist, that same week to get the go-ahead for my radiation treatments to begin.  (I’ll be able to have radiation treatments closer to my home since they will be every day for  6 weeks, so I’ll have to have an appointment with another oncologist at my radiation hospital, too.  Hopefully, it will all take place and get going by the end of February.)

I’m feeling better and better every day, and I think my hair is really growing fast.  (Although that makes me even more impatient!) The color is yet to be determined.  It still looks much lighter than it was, but I’m thinking it’s just because it’s still very fuzzy.  Mel thinks it will be blonde.  Maybe he hopes.  I’m just bummed I didn’t get a blonde wig.  That would’ve been fun.  I got the darker wig because I just knew my hair would come back in very dark.  Oh well.  Maybe I’ll still get one for fun while it grows.  We still can’t tell if it will be curly or not.  The color of my skin is losing that yellowy, pale cancer look about it and the dark circles under my eyes are slowing going away.  (Now, it’s just the usual sleep-deprived, tired mommy, wife-of-Mel circles.)  I’m looking forward to a great Spring filled with sunshine, energy and lots of fun…and NO wig or hat or scarves or bald head!

MC finally received her progress report this week.  Her report lists many skills in different areas of development.  Beside each skill, her teacher marks a check (satisfactory) or a minus (improvement needed).  Let’s just say that genetically, both of our girls, are par for the course.  Mary Clare excels in oral Language Development, especially vocabulary.  As far as the Number Development Section, I’ll just add that she had fewer checks than minuses.   And a “skill”  under Social Development most definitely inherited from her father, “Shows Self-Confidence” received a whopping three checks.  She did great on most of her skills and we are so very proud of her.  It’s amazing to see just how far our tiny half-heart, strong spirited little girl has come.  She is creative beyond belief and is so full of life and determination.  We never have a dull moment with her around!  She has an amazing teacher who is filled with spunk, creativity and movement at all times, so I know MC is having a ball in 4K.  If there is anything about our youngest born that we all know, is that she does things her very own way, when and where she chooses.  So who knows?  She may very well know her multiplication facts and is just holding out on us.  (wink)

We have a busy weekend of birthday parties, cheerleading games (maybe) and 100-days-of-school-celebrating!  That leaves only 80 more early mornings!  We are starting the countdown now!  Come on Summer, Prestwood Pool is calling our names!

A Day at the Museum

On the very last day of winter break,  we decided to take off and head to Columbia to spend the day at the Children’s museum.  I ran across these pictures on my iphone yesterday.

And in the news…

(See me in my brunette wig?)

Just like Daddy!

Goodbye Brace Face!

Last week, this girl got her braces off!  Forever!  She gets fitted for a retainer this week.  I’m hoping she’ll be better about wearing the retainer than she is about wearing her glasses!

Lazy Saturday

We slept in  this morning and woke up to a rainy day, so after a few episodes of old Hannah Montana re-runs and a bit of karaoke, we broke out the paint brushes.  McCanless’s idea, so I let her set it up and help out baby sister.  Meanwhile, I tried to get dressed to no avail-PJ’s again for me today.  (Shirt sleeves will be the death of me.)

A little secret:  We prime over old canvas paintings and paint right over them again and again and again and again.  I can’t hang everything they paint-I’d have no wall space!

McCanless decided to make money for summer camp today. She wants to paint and sell her paintings for 5 dollars.  At that rate, she’ll be 24 by the time she can afford to go to summer camp. (Wink)  I told her that Dad and I would swing the camp tuition again this year if she promised to send a letter home this time!  Deal.  So, now she’s making money for camp clothes.

She helped baby sister learn how to mix paint to make 20 different shades of pink,

then got busy on her own painting.  I only poked my head in a couple of times as she painted.  MC didn’t paint long, so her painting isn’t finished.  She grew tired after a few pink polka dots and splotches and decided to play with her Barbie house.

McCanless’s final painting is of a Magnolia tree, just like the one in our yard that can be seen through the dining room windows.  It amazed me how she remembers what a Magnolia bloom actually looks like.  Obviously, our tree has no blooms right now, but she remembered the shape and cones.  I love how she made two huge blooms on the tree.  She knows proportions and how to paint them correctly, but chose to paint them this way.  She paints quickly and doesn’t really put much thought into anything she’s doing.  I love watching her.  When she runs out of a color, she switches. If she “messes up,” she keeps going, and enhances her “mistake.” She stops and plays with her hair.  She doesn’t take it seriously at all.  It’s amazing to watch her.

“It’s a magnolia tree mom.  I love flowers.  So, I made them big.”

If you are wondering…

I should not have looked at the HUGE incision under my arm. It made it hurt worse. (I swear it did.) The “tumor” incision (about 3 inches) isn’t too bad and isn’t very sore, but man, the one under my arm from the lymph node removal is killing me. I have yet to take any meds for the pain, so I guess it’s not THAT bad. And it’s a mile long, I swear. I can’t even see it all. I had no idea that incision would be so long. Sorry, TMI?

Still, I have so much energy and “feel” great. I was telling someone yesterday, I’m so used to feeling down and out after chemo, I was expecting to feel “super-yuck.” It’s just been the norm. But today, although I’m sore, I feel fantastic. So very different, and so wonderful. I think I’ll forever look at illness and “body aches” completely different from now on. I didn’t realize how much chemo really gets you down, mentally and physically.

I’ve got a cute little round pillow permanently tucked beneath my arm. It has helped tremendously. A ladies group creates them for breast cancer patients in Columbia. So nice.

It’s going to be a rainy weekend, and I’m ready to snuggle and have down time with the girls team. I’ve missed their little antics around here for the past two days!

Lumpectomy 101

So, it’s out.  My cancer is “unofficially” gone!  I should get a call from Dr. Sweatman’s office before my next appointment to give us a full surgical report with details.  But as far as I’m concerned, it’s outta here!  Surgery wasn’t bad at all, I’ll admit.  Mel is required to be with me for the 24 hours following surgery “just in case,” so I’m trying to milk that a bit.  (He doesn’t read my blog, so I’m good.)  I’ll get up and, “ooh” and “ahh” a bit here and there to get a bit of sympathy from him.  I tell you, it’s like pulling teeth.   He’s been complaining more than I have.  You would have thought he has had surgery.  Sympathy pains, he says.  He keeps complaining about a “stress ball” in his shoulder.

I don’t think we have ever spent an entire consecutive 24 hours together, so this should be interesting.

Warning:  Details below.  If you don’t care to read all about the “wonderful details” just skip…

After arriving at the hospital yesterday around lunch time (no food or fluids after midnight) and changing into my precious purple gown and socks (Sorry mom, they made me take off the cupcakes socks you bought me for surgery), I waited for each and everyone of my teams to meet me, greet me and explain to me exactly what was going on.

Mel will never be allowed to accompany me for any other procedure in the future.  Ever.  As I was getting my first IV, that blew, he was making the most obnoxious faces and joked with the nurse causing me and my nurse to laugh.  Laughing.  AS a monster needle was being woven into (and apparently out of) my vein.  And on a side note, I’ve never had trouble giving blood or getting IVs.  Interestingly, the nurse explained that this was yet another side effect of my chemo-”hard to catch” veins. After my second IV was placed successfully, I was given a shot of Heparin in my abdomen.  Why couldn’t that have gone into A) the IV that was just placed or B) my port.  Take your pick.

What I’ve been dreading most was up next.  (I’m giving the nitty gritty here because I had the sweetest email from someone who is just beginning her cancer battle.  She mentioned that she loves reading about my experiences.  So, for most of you this may be TMI.  I just want to put it out there for anyone who may be interested-and for Mel and the off chance that he’ll actually read my blog for once. A few sympathy points.  No?)

Mel was asked to step out of the room and two men walked in.  Yes, two young men. Exactly who I wanted my “nipple injections” from.  In all fairness, they were very professional, respectful and quite funny.  Probably not until I made a complete fool of myself joking and giggling and talking a bit too much, too quickly.  I’m totally blaming it on my nerves.  My first joke was about the Emla cream that I had stacked on my breast.  It’s a numbing cream I used about an hour prior to arrival.  Mel and I were driving through Columbia and he pulled over into a parking spot for me to lather it on. (Not even a remote, hidden spot.  It was across from the Bank of America corporate building on one of the busiest streets in our State Capitol.)  He’s so gentlemanly like that.  I used the entire tube, so I’m sure the “injection guys” got a kick out of that, a mile high dollop of Emla.  After they wiped it off and five injections later, the “site” had to be massaged.

Word of advice:  if you are one that is a bit modest, do not get breast cancer.

The injections weren’t bad at all.  My injection guys were nice enough to inject two at once.  One guy on each side.  So, really I had only three sticks. I did have a bit of burning from the “dye” or whatever was in them as it was going in, but nothing too terribly uncomfortable.  The thought of it was far worse than the actual process.   The dye helped Dr. Sweatman see the lymph nodes and tissue he was removing.

After a stroll down to the OR and a bit of happy juice and gas, I only remember waking up to Mel staring at me again and cracking jokes.

Nitty Gritty over.  Begin reading here…

After a couple of hours in recovery, we were all set.  I have a bandage on and will keep it on for 48 hours.  Steri-strips will wear off after a while and I see Dr. Sweatman in 8 days.  I have an appointment with Dr. Butler, my oncologist, in mid-February and will begin the radiation process.

After we left the hospital, I was craving French onion soup, specifically from the Gourmet Shop, my favorite.  But it was after lunchtime and the Gourmet Shop was closed.  Bummer.  So, we headed to Panera.  French onion soup isn’t something that is generally “car friendly” so we decided to go in for a “quick” dinner.  “Surely, I’ll not see anyone” in my post surgery haze.  I even went in bald, my first public outing with my blonde fuzz going on.  Not 10 minutes later, two young cutie college girls bebopped over to our table.  Whose parents and older siblings I’ve known forever from my hometown.  I’m sure I scared them.  They were so sweet and polite enough to pretend not to notice.

Mel and I even stopped by the Dairy Queen for a blizzard before returning home.  Like chemo, surgery does nothing to my appetite!  When we got home, I took my happy pill and dozed off.  Today, I’m a bit sore, but haven’t even taken anything for pain, so it’s truly not bad all.  Shhh, don’t tell Mel, but I even did laundry this morning.

So, there you have it.  Lump is G.O.N.E.  Just like that!  Cheers!  Bring on the radiation.  I’m ready!

Photo of my fuzz-hawk on the way to Columbia!

Celebrating my last week three!

Warning:  This post is completely about me.  I’m “writing it down” so I’ll remember and hopefully be motivated.  (or embarrassed)

So, they say when you put it out there, you are held accountable.  So, here goes nothing.  In honor of my very last week 3  (post chemo), I’m setting a goal.   I’m going to try to lose 10 lbs.  I know, I know I’m not trying to move mountains or anything, but it’s a start.  Contrary to popular belief, chemotherapy doesn’t necessarily cause weight loss; especially the chemo drugs used to combat breast cancer.  In fact, my oncology nurse told me that the “going rate” for most of her patients was to gain between 10-15 lbs.  I gained one pound for each of my six treatments, and I was a bit over my “ideal weight” even before beginning chemotherapy.  So I can’t blame it all on chemo!  And with a new year, new start and next week being my first week 4 since September, I’m going for it. Losing weight and eating “better.”  I’m a complete sweet junkie and lover of all savory and fatty foods, so this is huge.

I’ve never really tried to lose weight-just kept fit through YMCA classes and keeping busy all the while eating whatever my heart desires-so this is new.  A lifetime ago, it seems, I was religious about exercise, but MC threw a little wrench into that lifestyle.  Now that her third surgery is over, and my last chemo is over, my body is due a good workout regimen. I have no excuses.  (And I can totally tell that I’m inching closer to a lower metabolism as the years pass on-so this is a good thing.)  I’ll probably fail royaly, but I’ve already been on my dusty treadmill for the past three days.  Yay!  I’ve been setting it on a pre-set alternating run/incline walk for thirty minutes.  I’ll have to admit, in the past it was never a difficult run for me, but the past three runs have been tough.  No pain, no gain.  Right?  I’ve done them, they just weren’t pretty. At all.  On a side note, it’s rather strange to sweat with no hair.  I never thought I was a big “sweater” but I can see tiny beads of sweat on my scalp after I run.  Weird.

So, I’m joining everybody else in America with my new year’s plan (not resolution, because I never follow through with those) to lose weight and get healthy for 2012.   (And probably annoy my mother who complains about all of “those people” who flood the YMCA in January and never show up past February.)

Now if only I can stay away from this site!

Wish me luck!

A herd of goofs…

Go Kittens!

So, when I say I was a little disappointed when McCanless never showed an interest in cheerleading, I’ll have to admit, that was a slight understatement. I “get” how excited all of those “football dads” are when their little tykes show an early interest in a sport they loved as children. I swore I would never try to persuade my children to do anything other than what their own heart desires.

Secretly, however, I would have loved a cute little cheerleader with a big bow! (Little did I realize that both of my children could never, in a million years, be coerced into anything!  Certainly not something they had no interest in.) Sure, I asked McCanless if she might like to try cheerleading “like her mommy once did,” but it never worked. And in all fairness, we tried to introduce many other extracurricular activities. Mel was a super athlete, believe it or not, and even took piano. We tried soccer, cheerleading (for a brief, failed stint) and piano. Dance is her thing. Which makes me happy. She loves it.  I loved it as a child, and she’s really good at it. (And we have still plenty of time for her to find other interests, maybe even cheerleading one day! Wink.)

Mary Clare is in a little pre-ballet class, but I’m not so certain that dance will be her thing. She loves the costumes and loves to dance. But in her 45 minute class, she spends more time staring at herself in the mirror doing Lady Gaga moves and kissy faces than she spends in first position. I laugh as her classmates just tip toe around her, as she shakes her head and spins a little too quickly, doing her own thing. Certainly not like a little ballerina should. Sure, she’s graceful, but on her own terms. She twirls when she should be still. She kicks when everyone else is plieing; very much how my little spit fire lives life right now.

Recently, when a neighbor asked her if she would like to join a cheerleading team, she squeeled with excitement. (I was secretly thrilled.) So, we bought the pom poms, the uniform, and went to scheduled practices, which were all behind closed doors.  The morning of her first game, we were all so excited to see the new “Kitten” cheerleader for the first time. Go Kittens!

She nearly ran over Kaiti, who was in front of her, as she ran down the tunnel of spectators. Do you see how excited this girl is? She was laughing the whole way!

(She insisted on not wearing a shirt under her uniform that morning, along with her pink shoes and leggings. She actually didn’t like the orange uniform and wanted to wear her green Thomas Hart Academy cheerleading uniform, so I didn’t argue with her about the shirt and pink shoes.)

Once the cheerleaders were introduced, they disappeared for the first half of the game and were to come back out at half-time for their performance. At this age, they are only required to cheer for the second half of the game, which turned out to be a good thing, in MC’s case.

When she came running back out on the court, she had changed into her gray leggings and Uggs.  Typical MC.

After this photo was taken, the girls assumed position on the sidelines, ready to cheer on the team! Mary Clare loved the gym, the people, the noise.  She adored the uniform and pom poms. Cheering for her team?  Not so much. She cheered for a few minutes, then wanted a water break, a bathroom break, was mad at me for forgetting her megaphone and eventually sat down until it was her turn to call a cheer. She did stand and cheer for that one. I sat down behind the mini-squad and she sat in my lap and cheered from there for the rest of the game. So, we’ll see if this is her thing or not. Maybe we’ll just keep the uniform for the dress-up trunk.  That way she can be a cheerleader whenever she wants, or not. I think I may have an actress on my hands.

Seasons of Change

I’m often amazed my my family. You know, I don’t see myself. Through my eyes, everything is as it should be. I sound the same. I feel the same. My voice is the same.

Over the last five months, however, my girls and Mel have watched my appearance morph into something different. I slowly became someone entirely new. They see me with my bald head, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, and mousy complexion every day. They live with this new person. They’ve become accustomed to seeing me this way. Lately, I’ve grown annoyed with my wig, so it may be soon that I’ll don my bald head outside of our home. Until then, it’s our family’s little secret.

Occasionally, I’ll walk by a mirror and of course, every morning as I jump out of the shower, I notice this new person staring back at me. I’m still not used to it and I quickly move on. As I’ve said before, it’s easy to be bald when you look healthy. It’s so much more difficult when you look sick. I still look sick. I imagine it will be this way for a while. As obvious as my yellow and bruised nails are to the outside world, I can only imagine how the hidden inside of my body looks. Slowly, however, my nails are growing out and health is peeking through. I use this as an indicator of my body. When my nails look fresh and new and healthy, I’m hoping my body will also be that way.

I’m fortunate now that chemo is behind me, I have a new season ahead of me. I dream of warm Spring and a healthy me with new hair and a fresh complexion.

Life is never easy. I’ve had to “suck it up and deal” before, when life seemed so unfair for my baby girl. When it seemed we could finally breathe again, life threw us another curve ball. More sucking it up and more dealing. More growing. More learning.

I have a huge appreciation for my husband. I’m sure 12 years ago, when he spontaneously decided to buy an engagement ring before our graduation trip to Europe(because we all know Mel never plans anything), he never knew all of the trials we would face together. Never once, has he faltered on his extreme dedication to me and our journey. Let’s face it, I’m no pretty sight and I know I’ve not been the easiest person to deal with at times. Mel has treated me just as he has for the past 12 years. Nothing seemed to change in his eyes. (Even when I wanted a little coddling-no such luck.) Every day he has encouraged me and has told me I’m beautiful, even when I know that’s far from reality.

So, even though this season of my life has been challenging, I’m thankful for the growth, compassion, and closeness my family has experienced. Hopefully, the girls have learned that although the outside of me has changed, it didn’t change who I am; and that what is on the inside of a person is far more important that what they see on the outside.

Life is so precious. Seasons come and go and pass quickly. I’m so very fortunate to have had life experiences that make me acutely aware of how amazing our life truly is, right here and right now.