Ring of Fire; Radiation Burn

Fair warning - this may be a little too descriptive...the burn WAS repulsive...

Maybe I have been a night owl long before I or anyone else in my family realized it. I suppose I've also always been rather independent, believing I could do things all by myself.

I was 5 and my sisters had just snugly and safely tucked me in bed. Having me out of their hair they went downstairs to have some hot chocolate and watch television. Unbeknownst to them I snuck out of bed, quietly crept downstairs and into the kitchen where I discovered the pan of hot water on the stove. The handle was facing outward toward me, practically begging me to share in some hot chocolate, and with a little extra height I would gain by standing on my tippy-toes I was sure I would be able to reach the pan. Soon the mug I held in my left hand would contain my bedtime rendezvous treat - yummy hot chocolate. So I stretched, and I managed to reach the pan, but I barely had a grip and my little hand was strong enough to hold the heave pan of water. The result was hot water on my face and hand, rather than in the mug, I suffered from second and third degree burns on my entire face as well as my left hand.

Memories of my burn are clouded, which I think is a good thing. My healing was nothing short of miraculous leaving no traces of scars. I thought that I would never again in my life be burned anything like that. I was wrong.

I knew the radiation would cause the treated area to burn but I was not prepared for just how badly my skin would be burned. After the first week of treatment my entire breast and armpit were burned. It was tolerable and could treated with Biafine, a prescription moisturizing cream. I had googled radiation burns and was frightened by some of the images I viewed. Bi-weekly I would ask the technicians if the burn would get much worse and each time I was asked I was reassured that it was probably as bad as it would get.

The final 5 treatments are called a "boost" where a higher radiation dosage is aimed specifically at the tumor site, rather than the entire breast and lymph node area. During this week my initial burn already started healing and the skin was turning tan. It had already become difficult for me to sleep at night due to discomfort and I wasn't able to lay on one side or on my stomach. I used a pillow as a support for the treated breast (left) and had not been able to wear a bra since end of week two. Still, all tolerable.

After my final treatment my skin continued to burn. The treated area was an approximate 3" circle and was very red and very painful. By day 5 it was showing signs of blisters. All within about a day I suddenly had multiple blisters which opped immediately leaving the skin raw and exposed. The Biafine would sting when I put it on and because of the openness of the would I wasn't able to rub it in very well. i would have to stand in front of a fan to help cool and dry me off. When the blisters popped they oozed a clear fluid and a few spots actually bled. The site remained like that for 2 full weeks.

My intent is not to scare anyone but to better prepare anyone who may have to face radiation. Granted, I was told that burns to the extent that mine were are not common, but they are also not unheard of.

It's been a few weeks now, 4 as a matter of fact and the burn has mostly healed. The raw spots scabbed over and have since fallen off. The breast area that received the boost is still pink and a little tender but at least it is back to the tolerable state.

Once as a kid and once as an adult, I think that's second and third degree burns about 2 times too many. :0(

Care Enough to Check Yourself

"People should be afraid of the cancer, not the mammogram." ~ Nancy Reagan

Trick or Treat

Boo!!! HA!HA!HA! How's that for a trick? Trick or Treat Day is coming and I haven't blogged in awhile so time for lots of ghosts - oops! I meant posts! ;0) I am so very honored that there are some people who check my blog quite regularly, so for those of you, I hope that you find my sudden burst in blogging and posting a treat! ;0)

I have also chronicled the many steps in my journey through the use of this blog and because of that I am going to "tweak" the post dates so that for the most part my comments will remain in chronological order.

The Pink Ribbon

The Pink Ribbon stands for friendships,
too many to count.
For strength no disease can ever surmount.
It celebrates grace in the shadow of pain,
Bringing us together in an unbreakable chain.
A symbol of hope and our goal, which is pure,
Never to rest until we find a cure.
(author unknown)

October is...

It's October and this month means very much to me for many reasons. First of all, it's breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you are reading this on my blog then you are already familiar with information regarding breast cancer in general and specifically my breast cancer. But don't let that be enough. Do something for the breasts, wether they be yours, a loved one's or all of them for that matter. Do a self breast exam, remind a loved one to do one, schedule yourself or a loved one for a mammogram if one hasn't been done in the past year, or donate to one of the many worthy causes. There is a reason for the need of an entire month being dedicated to breast cancer awareness.

This month is also very special to me because it is the first full month that I am entering with my cancer treatments completed. No more weekly or daily visits to Walter Reed. From this month forward every new day is a day entered without medical treatment and a day closer to better health and a full recovery. I heard Robin Roberts (cohost of Good Morning America and fellow breast cancer survivor) state, "this isn't like getting over the flu." She then repeated that statement over and over again, perhaps because what seems to be a simple statement isn't simple at all. In fact, it's actually quite complicated, involved and also very powerful. The statement doesn't need to be extreme for the disease or the impact to be. My body reminds each and every day in many ways that I am recovering from something that most definitely hasn't been the flu. But I am recovering and who could ask for more.

October 1st also marked a very significant milestone in my military career. I reenlisted for the last time which will effectively carry me to active duty retirement in 4 years and 4 months (February 1st, 2013!!!)

Happy October!!! Find a reason to celebrate and enjoy life! ;0)

How Radiation Affected My Vision

No, I don't see everything through a green glow.

It's now been nearly a week since I completed my radiation treatment and this first "down time" in 6 and 1/2 weeks has allowed me to reflect on the experience.

By first appearance, the radiation oncology waiting room looks to be a very plain, ordinary, and even dull place. But don't let this first impression fool. This is actually one of the most powerful places you will ever enter. It is hallowed ground where lives are lost or regained. Social standings, age, race, gender, rank are all meaningless and perhaps nearly invisible. This is a place where all who enter are equal. On any given day you can't swing a saline drip without hitting someone with some type of cancer. Other days the only place in America that may have more women who have had breast augmentation in some way is Hollywood.

I spent a portion of every day of the past 6 and 1/2 weeks in that waiting room. Some days my wait would be no longer 2 to 3 minutes. Other days I waited for 4 hours to receive my treatment due to equipment malfunctions. Everyone of those days I was greeted by Joe, the receptionist, who was a constant ray of sunshine in what otherwise may have been a dreary place. She was like our radiation cheerleader.

I've seen the heavy-eyed look of fatigue and heard the raspy, weak voices caused by radiation burns of the throat. I've seen patients walk in one day and have to be wheeled in the next. I've experienced the kindness of those who are strangers for merely minutes. I have seen patients start their treatment and I have seen patients finish their treatment. I've seen celebration and sadness, as I too shared in their victories and shortfalls. I've seen hope. I've seen love. I've seen life, unedited and raw. I've seen a type of equality amongst people that I have never experienced before.

There, in that radiation oncology waiting room, people faced the most devastating and difficult times of their lives but yet no one complained. No one was bitter, or angry or wallowing in self pity. For the most part, other than perhaps 2 people I briefly came in contact with, these cancer patients proved to be so much more than just a patient, or better yet a survivor. They too were warriors while all the while displaying tremendous positive attitudes. These were among the most amazing people I have ever had the honor of meeting.

And all of it, every detail of those 6 and 1/2 weeks amazes me.

Results of the Final Day of Radiation; The Power of a Survivor

After 34 treatments, one every day for the past 6 and 1/2 weeks this was my last day. The day didn't necessarily feel any different starting off or on my way to treatment. Not much was different once I arrived at the clinic, although I was beginning to feel some excited energy.

I changed into my gown, laid on the table and assumed the position as I had 33 times before. Once on the table I again, just as every other time, entered my zone. I was aware that Will was in the room taking photos to document this important part of my journey and I heard what to me were muffled voices between him and the technicians. They exited the room, the door closed, and my final dose of radiation began.

It was then, within those very seconds that the significance of this particular moment sank in and as it did, my tears began to flow. It was a sweet surrender. My treatments, my actual treatments for this cancer were over and I could now begin to rebuild and restrengthen my body and reclaim a big portion of my life.

My tears were unlike any I had shed before, but then again, everything about this journey has been a new experience and has touched the depths of my soul.

Within minutes my final radiation treatment was over.  Over!  But not my tears of joy and relief.

It's a tradition within Radiation Oncology to "ring the bell" when treatment is finally completed.   I walked up front to Jo's desk and vigorously rang the bell.   I hugged the staff that I had come to know and I cried even more.

As we drove home I knew that I wanted to capture everything about every ounce of emotion that was surging through my mind and body.   Words can not adequately express how I felt but I felt so strong, so powerful, and invincible.  Not immortal, but invincible, and that's what really matters.  I realized that day, within those moments, the accumulation of each and every moment leading up to that one, that I can do anything.  I can accomplish any task set before me, I can obtain any goal , and I can overcome any adversity that lay ahead of me. For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt the power of being a survivor.

When I got home, still feeling that power surging within me, I breathed into a decorative bottle and corked it, capturing the essence of the moment. Should I ever forget, get weak, disheartened or simply need a power boost, I will forever have that bottle. 

These boots are made for...

...kickin' some breast cancer booty! And I did! ;0) Here's to fighting like a girl and showing cancer just who the sissy is and who the boss is!!!

The Crown - How To (Scarf Wrapping)

I didn't often wear a scarf or hat and I never wore a wig while beautifully bald from chemo but on occasion when I did I was blessed enough to receive compliments on how I wore my scarf. Tying a scarf in a fashionable manner isn't as easy as you may think before the initial attempt so I searched online and found this "how to" which helped me. Hopefully someone else will find it useful also.
 
"This style of scarf-wrapping is named for the fact that it forms a fabric crown over the head. It is an elegant-looking wrap and is a good choice for bad hair days.
 
Scarf Style Needed: Rectangular (oblong) Scarf
 
Tying the Scarf:
      Drape the rectangular scarf over the head off-centered so that one end hangs much farther down the body than the other. Gather the ends of the scarf at the nape of the neck and cross them behind the head. Twist the longer end of the scarf to form a "rope" which should be laid along the front edge of the scarf approximately 1-2 inches from the edge (over the top of the head).
      Continue the twist around to meet the other, shorter, end of the scarf and knot the two ends together. The ends can be left loose to drape over or behind the shoulder, or may be guided along the back of the head and tucked under the scarf, out of sight. This is a terrific look for outdoor occasions or for anytime you want to create an exotic look and your hair won't cooperate."
 
 

The True Story of the Walter Reed Radiation Oncology Princess

My first few days of radiation were the worst - unbearable in fact. So much so that by Monday, after only having received 3 treatments, I requested to see the Radiation Oncologist and asked him what the chance of recurrence was if I chose not to continue with therapy. His answer was a startling 35% and he strongly encouraged me to continue with treatment.

Positioning of your body is critical during radiation. During your initial visit several "tattoos" similar to a mole are placed on your body to later assist the technicians with proper alignment. Your arm and head are placed in a mold which is then formed to fit snugly. Due to the location of my tumor I had to turn my head as far as possible to the right and remain in that position throughout each treatment.

Unbeknownst to me, or to the radiation team, the mold was pressing into a nerve at the base of my skull resulting in a stiff neck, severe headaches, nausea and vomiting. I threw up more during my first few days of radiation and that weekend then I did the entire time I was receiving chemotherapy. Radiation was supposed to be the easy part!

The cure was simple. A folded wash cloth was placed over the ridge in the mold where it was pressing against my nerve to alleviate the pressure. After 1 - 2 evenings of muscle relaxers and padding my mold, thankfully, all the symptoms resolved.

From then on Michelle, one of the radiation technicians, officially dubbed me "Princess", as in the old fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, "The Princess and the Pea". For the remaining 6 weeks I earned the right to that name requiring my "princess pillow" for each treatment.

Not the end, just the beginning. This Princess shall live happily ever after! ;0)

(written by me for inclusion in my Breast Cancer Warrior scrapbook)

Every Moment - Right Now

Every moment is a choice.

I'm learning so much from this journey
of medicine, faith and healing
but one lesson stands above all...

I’ve learned that every single moment,
I have a choice to make.

In every moment I can choose to worry about a future
I can nor predict,
or I can choose to revel in the blessings of my life as is.
I can choose to live in fear of something I can not control
or I can choose to control my attitude and my outlook.

Right now, I can love my family.
I can appreciate the love given to me.
Right now, I can see and I can feel.
I can breathe fresh air, smell the flowers,
and I can feel the rain on my skin.
Right now I can hear, speak and laugh.
I can hear the laughter of children
and I can laugh along with them.
I can tell those that I love
just how much they mean to me.
Right now I can enjoy the beauty of life,
and create memories.
I can support others
as well as be supported by others.
Right now, I have a wonderful medical team
and I can trust that they are taking care of me.
Right now, I have everything I need,
and in every moment I choose
to celebrate the blessings in my life.

Right now I am living well
and I choose to LIVE my life to the fullest.

(words of encouragement from me to me)

They told me nausea wasn't a side affect...

Laughter is still the best medicine! :0)

A little TMI

A few of the many things I won't miss about chemotherapy.

"Before cancer I just lived, now I LIVE STRONG" ~ Lance Armstrong

For years now I've seen people wearing those little yellow wrist bands that read "LIVESTRONG" . Until recently the most I knew was that it had to do with Lance Armstrong but I never really understood what it meant or what the whole LIVESTRONG challenge was about.

On August 24th, 2008, I, along with other team mates of Team Heather's Fellowship participated in the Philadelphia LIVESTRONG Challenge. This particular team was established by Heather and her boyfriend Aaron in 2006 when she was diagnosed with cancer. She passed away in 2007 at the very young age of 34.

As we well know, cancer touches nearly every person in some way or another. We walked in memory of Momma Wade, Kathy's mother, who also passed away in 2007 due to cancer. We walked in honor of Bill O'Neal, Will's father who was diagnosed with leukemia and after a long and brave battle beat its butt and has been in remission for 10 years. And we walked in my honor. I was still undergoing my radiation treatments.

Most of the team walked the 5K, however, Aaron, Will and Michael each bicycled 45 miles!!!

The Lance Armstrong Foundation unites people to fight cancer, believing that unity is strength, knowledge is power and attitude is everything. They are helping to make cancer a national , now global priority. They help people diagnosed with and affected by cancer face the challenges and changes that come with cancer.

I've participated in Walks before, specifically the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, but this was different. The unity of all types cancer survivors and their loved ones was a power that is one to be reckoned with. Hopefully that is what it will take to find a cure.

Don't just live, LIVE STRONG!

Last Chemo Infusion (June 30th, 2008)

My medical oncologist, Dr. Mo on my last day of chemo treatment. Note that I was sure to include the word treatment after last day of chemo. The affects will be around for awhile. I have heard that it takes up to a year after treatment to return to your "normal" self, but since I was never quite "normal" prior to chemo we'll see how I do! ;0)

My doctor was fantastic, no, he was phenomenal. I've never had an oncologist before so I don't necessarily have anyone else to compare him to but I can tell you that if given a choice, I wouldn't have chose anyone else. Prayerfully I will never have to, but if asked by someone I love, I would recommend him in a heartbeat, as if my life depended upon him.

It startling to think that a doctor, especially in this particular field, holds the course and possibly the length and quality of your life within his hands and his mind. I immediately felt comfortable with Dr. Mo and as my treatment progressed and I saw him more often I simply kept liking him and completely trusting him more and more. When faced with the possibility of chemotherapy treatment, which wasn't originally in the plan, I asked him what he would recommend if I were his mother, sister, etc. Without hesitation he confidently replied that if I were his loved one he would highly recommend the chemotherapy. Throughout the course of chemo, as if i were an individual, not merely a patient and as if he truly cared about my outcome, more than just my diagnosis.

I am ever grateful to him for the care he has provided and continues to provide to me. I hope that he never loses his compassion and genuineness and he continue to give his patients hope and respect, as well as healing.

PICC Line

Peripherally inserted central catheter
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC or PIC line) is a form of intravenous access that can be used for a prolonged period of time, e.g. for long chemotherapy regimens...First described in 1975,[1] it is an alternative to subclavian lines, internal jugular lines or femoral lines which have higher rates of infection.
A PICC is inserted in a peripheral vein, such as the cephalic vein, basilic vein, or brachial vein and then advanced through increasingly larger veins, toward the heart until the tip rests in the distal superior vena cava or cavo-atrial junction.
PICCs are usually inserted by radiologists, physician assistants, radiologist assistants, or certified registered nurses using ultrasound, chest radiographs and fluoroscopy to aid in their insertion and to confirm placement.

My PIC line was inserted just shortly after my first chemo infusion when I was admitted for Neutropenia. It was, for the most part, a painless process and really more fascinating that frightening. With the insertion of the picc line there is no more need for needles for the weekly blood draws, i.v. lines (saline was required often due to high pulse rate suspected from dehydration or simply due to chemo) or multiple attempts (3!) to find a good vein for chemo transfusion.

My picc line was removed on my last day of chemo by nurse Irene, part of my oncology team, as seen here in the photo (June 30th, 2008). Removal was completely pain free which I found equally as fascinating.

The picc line was one thing during chemo that I was grateful for.

The Cancer Connection

My first visit to the oncology department wasn't that all that long ago in terms of time but if based on experience it was a lifetime ago.

As I sat in the waiting room waiting to be called in by my oncologist I had no idea just how much my life was about to change. It began with my reaction to my first view of the treatment rooms and the patients lined up in the recliners receiving their chemo treatments (see post).

The experience of my first chemo treatment will never leave my memory, nor will it fade. I looked very much like the obvious new girl with my full head of thick hair. Chemotherapy isn't all that was given or received in these treatment rooms. Equally as potent was the advice and comfort dispensed from so many of the chemo veterans. Then before I knew it, without even realizing it, I too had become one of those veterans, baldly, proudly, strongly and lovingly passing along hope to those who started the process after me and those that needed it.

Although I had never experienced radiation treatments before, I knew that they would in no way compare to chemotherapy and I did not in any way feel frightened as I began the process. I am experienced in cancer, in surviving, in doing what you have to just to get through, whether it be a single treatment or a lifetime.

There is a bond that is shared among cancer patients/survivors. I have heard it referred to as "a club that no one wants membership in" but I think that phrase diminishes the true value of that bond. I have experienced it as a kinship in which you are naturally connected to someone at the deepest levels of their being; their hope, their fears, their mortality.

I have met co-survivors being treated for a multitude of cancers ranging from cervical, tongue, leukemia and of course fellow breast cancer patients. But we all share two things in common - cancer and survival.

I can't adequately capture in words the connection you feel when talking to a fellow patient/survivor and although I truly wish there weren't so many of us I am so grateful to each and every one that I have had the honor of crossing paths with.

"How are you?" Hmm...How am I?

With the completion of my chemo and the start of my radiation there is a lot of reason for celebration and excitement. Heck - I've even threw myself a party! I am thankful for many things. But when it comes to answering the question that has been posed to me countless times over the past several weeks, "How are you?", I'm not quite sure what the right, honest or best answer is. I haven't found a consistent or a complete answer yet.

I appear to be doing ok, or even pretty well. I'm feeling much better than I did while I was undergoing chemo. I feel more like myself every week, hopefully it will soon reach the point where I can say every single day I feel an improvement. But that is how I feel physically from the treatments. How do I feel regarding the disease of cancer? That's an entirely different story.

I feel scared. My prognosis is good but in all honesty, the cure for cancer does not exist. I don't have many fears. I'm not sure if that was me pre-cancer but I am certain that is me post-cancer. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that my greatest fear is recurrence. I try not to dwell on it but I must admit, not a day passes that it doesn't cross my mind. I try to rely on the reassurance that my completed course of chemotherapy would surely have killed any remaining cancer cells but yet can't help but question that thought process while I am currently facing 6 and 1/2 weeks of required radiation.

Each time I stand up my legs and feet ache so much so that I move as if I am a pregnant 85 year old woman. When I lay in bed and night and try to sleep the pain in my joints, particularly my hands, fingers, feet and knees make it difficult to rest. The mornings are by far the worst. After tossing and turning all night and my body temperature fluctuating between the cool air conditioner and the immeasurable hot flashes and night sweats I am so stiff and ache so much that getting out of bed and placing my feet on the floor is a chore I dread. I can deal with that though. But with each of those moments a thought, a worry races through my mind, is this normal? Is this the effects of chemo? Or could this be something more?

I don't believe in living in fear, nor do I think that you should waste your moments worrying about things that have not and may not happen. The fear of my cancer returning though is a reality. My challenge will be to balance the fear with awareness and knowledge and find a sense of peace and comfort. I've learned so much about breast cancer and about myself on this journey and I have done well. I am sure that somehow, with this too I will do well.

Help!

"The radio is burning me and my eyebrashes have fallen out!"

Evidence that chemo brain is still in effect!

Word of the day - Bolus

Bolus, a flabby, rubbery material, is used in certain situations to “fool” the radiation beam so it will deposit the maximum dose on the skin surface instead of a fraction of an inch deeper, as it would otherwise. Therefore, a skin reaction is almost inevitable in this scenario. Bolus is usually incorporated into radiation therapy for skin cancers or when a surgical scar, such as a mastectomy scar, needs to receive a full dose of radiation therapy.

My newest fashion accessory that I get to wear during radiation treatments. I don't get t keep it with me all day though like I do with the tats and the sharpee x's and o's.

Radiation Preparation

The following information has been extracted from various locations on the internet:

Treatment Planning
Before radiation treatments begin, you will go through a treatment planning process called "simulation". This is necessary to confirm that the treatment machine will treat the exact area requiring the radiation (called the treatment port). A map of the area on your body where the radiation is to be delivered, referred to as the treatment field(s), is created. A machine called a simulator, which is designed to mimic the movements and settings on the actual treatment machine (called a linear accelerator) that will be used to administer the radiation therapy to you, is used.
Throughout the process, X-ray films will be taken. The entire simulation takes one to two hours, but the actual time may vary slightly. Since you will be lying on a hard table under the simulator for most of this time, you may experience some pain or discomfort. Should this occur, tell the technician. Keep in mind that the time necessary to deliver the actual radiation therapy treatments is only minutes, not nearly as long as the time required for the simulation.
CT Simulation
In some situations, a special computerized tomographic (CT) scanner will be used along with simulation to help plan some radiation therapy treatments. In these instances, the CT scanning process will be performed in the Radiation Oncology Department several days prior to the simulation. Information from the CT scan is used to precisely locate the treatment fields. The CT scanner is specially designed to work with the other equipment in the Department, and is not a replacement for other diagnostic scans you may have received.
Tattoos
At the end of the simulation visit, it is necessary to put marks on you to outline the treatment field(s). These marks are in the form of very small tattoos, which are dots the size of a pinpoint or freckle, made using India ink. The process of tattooing causes some temporary discomfort. Generally, between 4 and 8 tattoo marks are placed, but sometimes more or less are necessary. In some treatment plans, a second set of tattoos may be necessary. While the tattoos are permanent, because of their very small size, they are not very noticeable. By using the tattoos, it will be possible for you to bathe or shower on a daily basis without worrying about removing these important marks that show where the radiation treatments are to be delivered. Also, if any additional radiation therapy is needed in the future, the tattoos serve as a permanent record of previous treatments. In very rare instances, tattoos will not be used.
Technical Planning Process
After simulation, details from the procedure are forwarded to medical radiation dosimetrists and medical physicists. These professionals perform highly technical calculations that will be used to set the treatment machine (linear accelerator).
Large alloy blocks may be placed inside the treatment machine to limit the amount of radiation delivered to your normal tissue in the treatment field. These blocks help decrease the development and/or severity of side effects caused by the treatments. Blocks are customized for each patient, in order to provide the best protection.
Set-Up
Several days after the simulation and after all calculations have been performed and custom blocks made, your treatment can begin.
Treatment machines (linear accelerators) resemble the simulator but are larger. You will be placed on the treatment table in the same position as you were on the simulator. Proper positioning usually takes 10 to 15 minutes. Once in place on the treatment table, a set of X-ray films will be taken. These films will be matched with the simulation films to ensure that the treatment is going to be delivered the same way as it was simulated. Occasionally, the match is not optimal. In these cases, adjustments will be made and will be checked by your attending physician. In rare cases, more adjustments are required and treatment may need to be postponed. Once the films and positioning are confirmed, a treatment will be delivered.
The actual administration of the radiation treatment usually takes only about 5 to 10 minutes. Factors that affect the total length of the treatment include the complexity of your treatment, the particular machine on which you are being treated and how quickly you can be positioned properly for treatment. On average, most patients spend a total of 20 to 30 minutes in the Department per day receiving their treatment.
On-Treatment Examinations
Once a week, repeat X-ray films will be taken to re-confirm proper positioning. These films will also be performed in most cases where there is a change in your treatment field or treatment plan. The X-rays taken during the course of radiation treatment are not used to help measure your progress or response to the radiation. Rather, they are only used to ensure that the position and treatment arrangement is appropriate.
You will also be examined at least once a week by your attending physician and resident. The examination day is generally on Thursday, just before or after your treatment is administered. These examinations are important because they give your physician the opportunity to evaluate your physical condition, answer any questions that you may have, and plan and coordinate future treatments.

Radiation 822 (more 411 than you ever wanted!)

How Radiation Works
Radiation therapy — also called radiotherapy — is a highly targeted, highly effective local treatment recommended in conjunction with a lumpectomy to destroy cancer cells in the breast that may stick around after surgery. Radiation therapy may be externally or internally delivered, both on an outpatient basis. The most common radiation treatment for breast cancer is external radiation therapy. It uses a large machine to direct a beam of radiation at the cancer site from outside the body and focuses high-energy rays to the entire breast from a machine called a linear accelerator to damage cancer cells. These high-energy beams, which are invisible to the human eye, damage a cell’s DNA, the material that cells use to divide. After the first course of treatment, a “boost” dose of radiation is given in the same area of the breast where the tumor was removed. The most common type is given externally (as in the first course), and may last from 1 to 2 weeks.

Over time, the radiation damages cells that are in the path of its beam — normal cells as well as cancer cells. But radiation affects cancer cells more than normal cells. Cancer cells are very busy growing and multiplying — 2 activities that can be slowed or stopped by radiation damage. And because cancer cells are less organized than healthy cells, it's harder for them to repair the damage done by radiation. So cancer cells are more easily destroyed by radiation, while healthy, normal cells are better able to repair themselves and survive the treatment.
A typical course of treatment is 5 days a week for 5 to 7 weeks. The treatment takes a few minutes each day.

Why Radiation is Necessary
Radiation is an important and often necessary form of anti-cancer therapy because it is able to reduce the risk of recurrence after surgery. Although it's quite possible that all the cancer was removed through surgery, breast cancer surgery cannot guarantee that every last cancer cell has been removed from your body. Individual cancer cells are too small to be felt or seen during surgery or detected by testing. Any cells that remain after surgery can grow and eventually form a new lump or show up as an abnormality on a test such as a mammogram.

Research has shown that people who are treated with radiation after lumpectomy are more likely to live longer, and remain cancer-free longer, than those who don't get radiation. In one large study, women who didn't get radiation after lumpectomy were shown to have a 60% greater risk of the cancer coming back in the same breast. Other research has shown that even women with very small cancers (1 centimeter or smaller) benefit from radiation after lumpectomy.

Radiation Oncology Team
Women having radiation therapy do not go through it alone. They have a whole team of people working with them to make sure they get the best treatment. This team may include:

• a radiation oncologist — to plan the treatment using radiation therapy;
• a radiation physicist — to make sure the machine delivers the right amount of radiation;
• a radiation therapist — to run the radiation therapy machine;
• a dosimetrist — to figure out how much radiation and how many treatments are needed;
• a radiation therapy nurse — to help manage side effects and provide information about the treatment;
• other team members may include a dietitian, physical therapist or social worker.

Hip-Hip-Hooray!!!

It's Sunday night, 1 day shy of 3 weeks after my last chemo treatment. If I were facing chemo yet again tomorrow I would have already had the first of 2 required doses of steroids in preparation for tomorrow. Instead, I'm preparing for what I hope to be a restful night's sleep so that I can go back to work tomorrow!!! This may be my favorite blog posting yet! :0)

I am a Survivor AND a Warrior

I am a SURVIVOR, but I am more than that. I am a WARRIOR. My battle with breast cancer isn't over, nor will it ever be. Because this cancer has invaded my body once I now have to remain ever vigilant, even hyper-vigilant of it's recurrence or the invasion of a new cancer.

I'll be quite honest, my fear of recurrence is FAR greater than any fears I had with my initial breast cancer diagnosis. I always knew that I would be ok. I will in many ways always remain touched by this dreaded disease (scars, medications, evaluations) and I have accepted that. I just wish there were some magical way of feeling, of knowing, that this dreaded disease will never touch me again.

May this be the only way you have to learn about chemo...

"During chemo, you're more tired than you've ever been.  It's like a cloud passing over the sun, and suddenly you're out.  You don't know how you'll answer the door when your groceries are delivered.  But you also find that you're stronger than you've ever been.  You're clear.  Your mortality is at optimal distance, not up so close that it obscures everything else, but close enough to give you depth perception.  Previously, it has taken you weeks, months, or years to discover the meaning of an experience.  Now it's instantaneous."   ~Melissa Bank

My chemo is done! I am so thankful and so excited. Keeping up with my chemo schedule and even being able to somewhat predict what I would be experiencing and when throughout the cycles almost became 'old hat'.
Now that I am quickly approaching the next episode in this b/c saga, I'd like to share a few things with you.

CHEMO SUCKED! CANCER SUCKS!!

Seriously, chemo was a bit more difficult than I admitted while I was going through it. I also realized very soon after starting it that I wasn't quite the "super girl" that I thought I would be. I truly believed that while undergoing chemo I would be able to maintain my quality of life as it had been.

Chemo was bearable, but it wasn't easy. I suffered physically, sometimes so much so that I couldn't hide it if I tried. Bust most times I tried my best to somewhat hide what I was experiencing. I did so for several reasons. First and foremost, I didn't want those around me to suffer or worry any more than they already were. Sharing my physical pain wasn't going to take any of it away from me, but it would surely would have added to their emotional pain. Of course there were lots of emotional and psychological aspects of it to deal with also. Again, for the most part I chose not to share much of that. I believe now in retrospect that I chose not to in order to maintain my personal strength and positive attitude. Chemo is so big and bad and powerful that you can only take it in small doses - in more ways than just the medical administration of it. Had I truly thought about what I was going through or had I been quite candid about how it made me feel I don't know that I could have sustained my strength or my spirit.

Once I completed my last cycle my mind began to overflow with thoughts. I literally had insomnia towards the end of week 1, cycle 4. I wrote incessantly and began at least 2 dozen blog postings, several which I posted on the 10th of July and several still sit here on my desktop waiting to be finished or posted. I found that I wanted to talk about and share everything that I had experienced over the past few months. I thought that it was because I was simply excited that my chemo was over and that I had a burst of energy, which of course to some extent was true. I realize more than anything though that I share now because I can. I can finally let my defenses down and am able to safe rather than vulnerable from the negative affects of the chemo. I couldn't allow myself to admit how bad it was while I was going through it. Admitting it made it more real and may have caused me to let it have power over over me, rather than me over it.

Anyway, I'm done with it. Now I'm looking forward to it be done with me and ridding my body of all the remaining side affects. I am grateful though for what I have learned through this process and hope to always keep those lessons close to my heart.

I Wanted to Write about Chemo Brain, But I Kept Forgetting

Funny title, but no kidding about the chemo brain (mild cognitive impairment). It really is the oddest thing to be in the middle of a conversation and all of a sudden you find that you are desperately and unsuccesfully searching for the next word which should be rolling off your tongue. Instead the conversation goes something like this, "you know, the stuff that you put on the thing with the bristles to clean your teeth (toothpaste). Up to this point it has actually been quite humorous. I imagine at some point it may become frustrating, especially after just learning that it can actually last for 1 - 2 years after completion of chemo!

Research shows that about 20-30 percent of people undergoing chemo therapy will experience mild cognitive impairment — word finding, memory, multitasking, learning and processing speed. Doctors don't know what causes the cognitive changes associated with chemotherapy, nor is it clear how often it happens or what may trigger it. It was previously thought that chemotherapy drugs were blocked from your brain by the blood-brain barrier, which separates chemicals that should be in your brain from those that shouldn't. Researchers now suspect some chemotherapy drugs may be able to slip past the barrier causing this chemo fog.

I'm no doctor, but from this chemo patients perspective, it's a no brainer!!!

Celebrate Life Party!!!

What: Celebrate Life!
When: August 2nd
Where: Our House
Who: Everyone!!! Friends, Family, Friends & their family :0)
Why: Life is Good - Let’s celebrate it !
(AKA chemo is over and socail life can begin again !!!)
Time(s): 5:00 - Open House/BBQ
This is a time to come visit and not worry about what to do with the kids -
bring them with you. I’ve missed seeing lots of my little friends too!
8:00 - House transforms into Margaritaville . Our infamous machines
will be serving “that frozen concoction” that helps us hang on ;0)
We hope you can come join us. We’ve missed everyone so much. Come for one or both parts of the party. Hang in for entire celebration, no matter, please come by and say hello.

RSVP via email or phone though so that we can be sure to have plenty of food and drink!

The (Not So) Great Communicator

Yes, I know my voice mail is often full and I realize that I have not been very good at returning calls, especially in a timely manner. (Mind you, this wasn't necessarily one of my most endearing qualities BEFORE the cancer!) ;0) I haven't kept up with my blog as I had envisioned or as some of you have wished. Although grateful for the invites, I have had to pass up far too many opportunities to get out and see friends and family. I have felt as if my social life has been put on hold, and (as Will may put it) my network has been temporarily disrupted due to technical difficulties (although I'm sure he would say it much more technically!)

I have not cooked any wonderful dinners in far too long but have on rare occasions microwaved a few not so wonderful ones. Take my wise advice and DO NOT try microwave Hamburger Helper. I should have suspected something when it was so simple that the meat was already included in the box . I get chills just remembering it. YUCK!!! Martha and Betty haven't had any competition from me in so long rumor has it they think it's safe to begin to rest comfortably. Between you and I, I too am beginning to wonder if I will still be able to give them a run for their reputation. (Well, there was the time no too long ago I did manage to bake the "Chocolate Chunk, Butterscotch, Toffee Chip, Marshmallow Disappearing Brownies for my treatment nurses and my Oncology Ward nurses (and me too) but hey - they have literally been my life savers! Although my oncologist did repectfully decline indulging due to the combination of his waistline and an upcoming beach trip.

Thank God for visiting "Mom(s)"! Had it not been for them I would be wearing extremely dirty clothes by now, if any at all due to the amount of laundry I have had to neglect. I have yet to figure out how pajamas can pile up so quickly. Furthermore, our carpet would no longer need to be replaced because, again, had it not been for mom's housekeeping, it would most certainly appear to have been replaced by the ever trendy "yellow lab-long hair black house cat" combination.

The dad's on the other hand proved to be just that, very "handy". We've had tons of house project done thanks to them.

I have forgotten how to type and am convinced of that more so each time I actually do attempt to blog. I hope that my co-workes continue to be as patient with me upon my return as they have been in my absence. I am truly blessed to work with some amazing people and although I can't give it it to them, I am sure they deserve a vacation for having worked so doubly diligently while I have been out.

Quite honestly, over the past couple of months I have seen my chemo nurses more than any of my friends and I see my oncologist almost as often as I see Will and our families.
I have missed so many things. OK, so maybe I don't missing having bad hair days but that's a posting in itself!

I began my blog by saying that this cancer is but a part of me and that I did not want it to consume me and although the cancer (thank GOD) hasn't, the treatment in a sense has in so many ways. My list of what has changed, how I've changed, what I miss, and basically what sucks could go on and on but I pray that I have finally reached the point in my treatment where I can start erasing the list rather than adding to it.

I have had so much to be thankful for through my treatment, which I'm sure I will never forget. Other things, such as the neutropenia, the hives, the rapid heart rate, and yes, EVEN the hair loss, and so much more are what I hope to soon be quickly fading memories.

Anyway, for not having kept in touch more often, communicated better, posted more, please understand that it wasn't personal. It wasn't that I didn't want to hear your well wishes, your voices or your laughter. It's not that I didn't want to see your smiling face and receive your hugs in person. Although I ask for your understanding, truly, unless you have physically walked this journey with me, it is difficult to fathom just how often I was either visiting either the doctor, the treatment nurses, and even the ER. Apparently the most popular form of treament for chemo related illnesses or complications is prescription upon prescription to make you sleepy.

I very appreciate all the prayers, well wishes and kind acts so please understand what you can from I have shared with you and forgive me for the lack of communication......

It's just that I've been battling this cancer as hard as I can with all that I am and I must admit, it has worn me out.

Name That Caption Contest

What was I thinking???

Motivating Cancer Quotes

"People should be afraid of the cancer, not the mammogram." ~ Nancy Reagan

"An individual doesn’t get cancer, a family does." ~ Terry Tempest Williams

"Cancer is not for sissies." ~ Suzanne Somers

"Cancer got me over unimportant fears, like getting old." ~ Olivia Newton-John

"As a cancer survivor, I am very aware of how many wasted minutes I don't have. The surest way to waste what is left of your life is to worry about what might happen or what might have been. "~ Shelley Hamlin

"Heroes take journeys, confront dragons, and discover the treasure of their true selves." ~ Carol Pearson

"We "need" cancer because, by the very fact of its incurability, it makes all other diseases, however virulent, not cancer. " ~Gilbert Adair, "Under the Sign of Cancer," Myths and Memories, 1986


The following quotes are from Lance Armstrong ~

"To be afraid is a priceless education."

"Anything is possible. You can be told that you have a 90-percent chance or a 50-percent chance or a 1-percent chance, but you have to believe, and you have to fight."

"Chemotherapy is war."

"If you ever get a second chance in life for something, you've got to go all the way."

"So if there is a purpose to the suffering that is cancer, I think it must be this: it’s meant to improve us."

My Best Treatment

WILL.

Simply, honestly and completely put, Will.

His humor.
His positive attitude.
His support.
His caretaking.
And last but certainly by immeasurable amount, not least, his patience with me.

Subtle Angels

"There are angels on this earth and they come in subtle forms." ~ Lance Armstrong

I was at the chemo clinic getting my picc line cleaned when my subtle form of an angel appeared. I'd done a relatively good job of keeping my spirits up and maintaining my positive attitude up until that particular day but admittedly, it was all beginning to take it's toll one me and maybe it showed.

I don't know about most treatment clinics but the one at Walter Reed is always in a state of controlled chaos. The patients range in age as much as in cancer diagnosis and prognosis. There is a limited staff of nurses who, although are truly overworked always have a smile and a story to share and ensure you are never made to feel like a burden. As these nurses carry around chemo cocktails infusing patient after patient they are literally carrying life (or death) within their very own hands. I find that in itself unbelievably amazing.

Anyway, there's a constant buzz in the air between the machines making all kinds of beeping and buzzing, the nurses scurrying about and some of who I believe to be the chattiest patients of all, the cancer patients themselves and their "angel for the day" or designated chemo care person.

I often don't wear hats or scarves in public. It's simple. I'm currently bald and it's a fact. This particular day though I had on a "do-rag" and as i walked in to the room full of fellow currently bald people some old fella said to me, "You going swimming sweetie?" Of course my answer was no and so he didn't hesitate to tell me to take of my "swim cap" and join them.

The conversation centered (as usual) around hair loss, number of treatments, types of cancer, etc. The subtle lady across the room was their with her father, he was the one receiving treatment. She herself was a breast cancer survivor and carried a picture of herself when she was undergoing treatment and bald. I was a bit surprised that she carried the photo and as she removed it from her wallet to show me she explained that being bald was a constant reminder of what was important and that through the years and with the growth of her hair and the "return to normally" she didn't ever want to forget what she knew then. She reached out and touched my arm and told me that before I knew it this would all become a distant memory to me. That what now consumed my life and my mind would soon one day just be a memory that would be stored in the back of my mind.

For the first and only time ever while I was in the treatment room my eyes filled with tears. Not tears of fear or pain, but of relief.

I SO needed to hear that. I sat on my bathroom floor only a couple of days before that crying, sobbing, because I felt overwhelmed, exhausted, frustrated, and downhearted over the current condition of my life and my health. I realized that I had not felt joy or excitement in months. I felt as if I could hardly even remember true happiness.

I don't know if I am able to fathom all of this becoming just a distant memory. I hope that I don't ever have to carry around a photo to remind me of a time when I knew what was important. But what I do know is that day i needed that subtle angel to share those words with me. And I thanked her for being my angel that day.

Who Knew Chemo Was So Generous?

I'm perplexed. I usually have very good manners which leads me to say and do the right thing when things are given to me. And in keeping with that I have said my "thank you's" for the many things I have received during my treatment such as the cards, encouraging notes/emails, flowers, casseroles, even pj's and slippers. What I'm not sure what to do with is all the crap chemo has given me along it's course (Ironic - I misspelled course as curse - HA!)

abdominal pain
alopecia (hair loss)
arthralgias (joint pain)
asthenia (weakness)
bone/joint pain
change in taste buds
chemo brain
chest pain
dehydration
diarrhwa
dry skin
dyspnea (gastric reflux)
exhaustion
foliculitis
headache
hives
insomnia
inferno flashes
lethargy
loss of appetite
(found; insatiable appetite)
mucositis (mouth sores)
myalgias (muscle pain)
nauseau
neutropenia
neutropenic fever
peripheral neuropathy (numbness & tingling)
skin changes
tachycardia (rapid pulse rate)
tender scalp
vomitting
xerostomia (dry mouth)

How 'bout if I just decide not to keep any of them?! :0) I doubt that even Ms. Manners would mind!

Help Me Live

Shortly after my diagnosis, unbeknownst to me, a friend of ours recommended Will read a book entitled, Help Me Live; 20 Things People With Cancer Want You to Know. I don't know if it is based on insight gained from the book or simply because of the incredibly wonderful loving person that he is, but one thing is for certain, Will has helped me live.

I could and perhaps even should go on and on about Will but surprisingly enough I think I would have a difficult time capturing all that Will is and reducing it in to mere words.

I've thought many times though about the title of that book. I've read portions of it and both agreed and disagreed with it. I'm sure that would be the case of each and every cancer patient reading it but still, it's a start to helping someone who loves you understand what you need and I would definitely recommend the book.

Knowing me though you won't be surprised to see that I've added my 2 cents worth.

#1 - Cancer is not synonymous with terminal, handicap, or invalid
#2 - Cancer is not contagious
#3 - Cancer redefines relationships
#4 - Cancer serves as a corrective lense on life; warning - filters may be required
#5 - Cancer doesn't have to consume you but understand that at times the treatment of it may
#6 - As much as you want to carry this for me, please understand that you are limited to walking next to me
#7 - What a difference a day makes. Sometimes a moment is all the difference it takes

When the credits roll...

It's an unfortunate fact of life that nearly everyone we meet has been affected by some type of cancer in some way. Once cancer touches us it affects us. It may mold us, completely reshape us, tear us down, soften us or harden us. In some cases it stirs a passion within. And in this particular case it embodied 2 special women with both compassion and empathy and has led them to reach out in kindness more times than they even realize.

I've not mentioned many names within my blog but sometimes the credits do need to roll. So here are tons of hugs and smooches dedicated to our dear friends Gillian and Kathy. For everything little thing, for being there for me, and for being there for Will, for simply understanding - thank you.

See - Not EVERYONE Looks So Good Bald!!!

I actually like my bald head!

I've been perusing through some other breast cancer blog sites and quite honestly, sometimes I'm surprised at what I come across. I realize that everyone handles things in their own way and on their own terms but yet I can't help but wonder how some people make it through what has to be one of the most difficult times in your life with an attitude that is "less than positive". For example, this quote really caught me and I really felt the need to respond to it, if only through my own blog.

"What is it about my bald head that makes people want to rub it?  And, if someone tells me that I have a nice shaped head one more time, I’m going to deck them.  The shape of a woman's head is not a typical feature of beauty.  No one has ever heard anyone say, “Check out that bald chick.  The shape of her head is so nice that I can’t help but admire her.I look ridiculous and I know I look ridiculous.  It is a phase that I am willing to go through to get better, but in the mean time, I don’t have to like it.  I just have to deal with it. " (Quote from a breast cancer survivor blog)

Call me crazy, tell me it's the chemo brain, or agree with me that attitude is everything, regardless, I LOVE my bald head! And I LOVE LOVE LOVE rubbing it! It's as if I am carrying around my own personal GUND teddy bear. :0) And, I am SO thankful that I do have a great shaped head. It's true that not all heads are shaped the same. Admit it, haven't we all seen a bald headed man or 2 who would look better WITH hair? Even with folliculitis my dermatologist told me I had a great head. Who am I to argue with the opinion on an expert?

I agree with the writer that she doesn't HAVE to like, only deal with it, but take it from me, it's so much easier to deal with when you actually do like it!

Tammy's Top 10 - Benefits of Cancer

(Order is strictly mood based!)

*You actually get to think "It's All About Me" and it really is!

*You find out just how many people love in in so many ways.

*You truly do get a different perspective on life (make it a good thing)

*You can eat whatever you want when you do feel like eating and then blame it on the steroids (Soon to be transferred over to the worst list!)

*The exhaustion forces your independent, caretaker attitude to simply be quiet and appreciate someone else taking care of you.

*If you're "lucky" enough to have chemo in the summer, your head stays much cooler than all those "hot" chicks with the long, luscious locks.

* You can attribute (aka blame) most things on "chemo brain"

*OK - So maybe I here really isn't 10 that I can think of! But hey - I don't have to, I'm going through chemo! ;0)

Thank's for Supporting Tammy's Ta-Ta's in the Avon Walk

A great big "thank you!" to all those who supported "Tammy's Ta-Ta's" in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer which was held in Washington D.C. on May 3rd & 4th. There were a total of 3,500 registered walkers participants who raised over $8.1 million for local, regional and national breast cancer organizations. Team Tammy's Ta-Ta's did an amazing job of raising a combined total of $8,060!!! Will proved to be the biggest supporter of Tammy's Ta-Ta;s raising $3,750 ;0), I raised $2,455 and Kelly raised $1,855. We never could have done this without the gracious contributions from so many people.

I've had a quote on my blog site since it's inception, "If you think research is expensive, you should try disease. Funds are needed to raise awareness and find a cure." It's through people who contribute, who walk, & who volunteer/participate in so many ways that each day we do come closer to a cure. Will & Kelly, thanks for "walking in my shoes"! Again, from the bottom of the heart within my ta-ta's, thank you so very much! :0)

Congratulations and Condolences

Today officially marks my half way point through chemo. 6 weeks have passed and in 6 more weeks I will have completed my chemotherapy treatment. Admittedly I have not done much in the way of keeping people up to date (blogging) throughout this first half of my treatment but for that matter I have not done much of anything during these past 6 weeks. I am often left with no other choice than to remind myself that I am not only a survivor, but that I am still a cancer patient. Mentally accepting my limitations has proven to be more difficult than physically undergoing treatment. I know that in itself that is a blessing.

The chemo has been tolerable, and considering what it is, I would dare to say that it has actually been bearable though the process has not been uncomplicated. In 6 weeks not only have I had 2 rounds of chemo but I have also had 2 emergency room visits due to fevers, one resulting in a 4 day stay. I have developed acid reflux due to the chemo which until diagnosed was quite painful and made it even more difficult than it had already been for me to get a restful night's sleep. I have also developed hives from what they believe to be either a "chemo rash" or an allergic reaction to one of the many medications I am on. The treatment for that is yet another medication which treats the symptoms, not the cause. My hot flashes have become "inferno" surges due to the steroids I am on.

As a course of my treatment, on the day following my chemo I have to inject a medication in my stomach in an attempt to prevent nuetropenia (the cause of my fever and hospital stay). The Lunasta didn't prevent me from developing a fever after either of my treatments but it did significantly help in regenerating my white blood cells and thereby reducing my level of illness. With that end result in mind, I'm sure the side affect is worth the benefit; after about the 4th day of the injection I experience an excruciating amount of joint and bone pain which lasts about 5 days.

I sometimes look at my body or physically feel the affects of all of this treatment and wonder whose body it is that I am now occupying. It doesn't look nor feel like the one I welcomed 2008 with. I am tired in so many ways, achy in so many places, have more weight, less energy and no hair. My life feels as though it has been put on hold. It is difficult to plan anything wether it be tomorrow or next week due to the lack of energy, presence of illness or need to be at a doctor's office. In many ways I feel disconnected from the "outside world". That in itself is a huge adjustment for me, unless of course it's on a day when I simply don't have enough energy to even care. What has remained constant though are my attitude and determination. I have known all along that the one thing I can determine and control each day is my attitude.

I realize that the previous paragraphs each contain something negative and lack many, if any, positive balances, They may even perhaps sound a bit whiny but in truth what I have shared are merely the recent facts of my life, some of the consequences of my cancer and the affects of my treatment. Up until this point I don't know that I have simply admitted that this has not been easy for me - physically, emotionally or mentally. I have purposely (and hopefully eloquently ;0) portrayed the positive, informative, medical and sometimes even humorous side of my journey. When I began my blog, the true purpose of it was to share this journey with those that read it. It was my means of passing along the information I received as well as share how I am.

The past 6-7 months, 3 lumpectomies and 2 cycles of chemo have not been easy but I know that they have been necessary to rid my body of breast cancer. With 2 additional cycles of chemo remaining over the course of the next 6 weeks and then an additional 6 weeks of radiation still ahead of me, I write this as much for you as I do for myself. It is vital that I remind myself that I AM halfway through chemo, and technically much farther along than halfway through treatment considering the first medical procedure was in December. Wow! What a happy ending! This blog really is good for me! ;0)

Presidential Volunteer Service Award

It's not all about me, ok, well, it still is here on my blog but this time it is about more than my ta-ta's. I'm about to "toot my own horn" rather loudly, so stand back! Technically I'll let the press handle my PR for me! :0)

On Friday, May 16th, I was honored by receiving the President's Volunteer Service Award at the White House (EEOB).

"ARLINGTON, Va. – An Air National Guard member was among seven servicemembers who received USA Freedom Corps President's Volunteer Service Awards through the Military Volunteer Recognition Initiative in a ceremony at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building May 16.
Master Sgt. Tammy Caban, assigned to the National Guard Bureau in Arlington, Va., has volunteered with the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS) since 2004, providing grief assistance to families who have lost a loved one serving the military. She also volunteers to help patients at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington."



For various news articles click here

God Bless America and Those That Serve Her!

Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow

This is it. This is the last day I will have my hair as I have known it, and the first day of the way I will come to know not having it. It's the day I have expected, anticipated and dreaded. Regardless, it's inevitable and so be it.

My hair is coming out at about 10 strands at a time, but so far only when I tug on it. Yeah, I know the old joke, so stop doing that, and I have but, according to a unanimous vote at a breast cancer support group meeting tonight, I can only maintain it 24 more hours at best. To be honest, it doesn't even feel like my hair, or any one's hair for that matter.

Tonight we will shave what is left of it.



Ta-Ta For Now! ;0)

Hello, my name is Tammy and I'm Neutropenic.

Hi everyone,

First, thanks for all your prayers and well wishes. I appreciate it more than I can express. Just an update on what's been going on with me the past few weeks.
I started chemotherapy last Monday, April 28th. I will receive 4 cycles, one treatment every 21 days. Monday's are my designated days.

The cycle went well. I was infused through an i.v. for 5 hours. The toughest part was getting a good vein but, once again as so many things have happened with this breast cancer, the third time was the charm and we got a good vein. The treatment nurses were wonderful and experienced, it's my veins that want to be difficult, high maintenance and demanding of attention. Hmmmmm....SO unlike ME! ;0) I would say that my first week following chemo went even a little better than can be expected and I had what I considered to be an amazingly well week. Even so, infection is a constant concern while receiving chemo and so it's important to regularly monitor my temperature.

Day 7 of Cycle 1 (yes, new terms added to the ever increasing cancer jargon) (Sunday, May 4th) rather randomly I thought it would be a good idea to check my temperature. Pretty much just as unexpectedly I discovered I had a fever which ranged between 100.0 and 102.1. As promised to my Oncologist, this led me directly to the emergency room at Ft Belvoir. Well, ok, not SO directly. I checked my temperature at least 8 times and even tested the thermometer on my mom before believing I actually did have a fever. I also was adamant that I was going to have dinner first (must be the steroids!). Other than the fact I had been injected with poisons 7 days prior and had given myself a shot in the stomach to reproduce bone marrow which caused my entire body to ache, I felt o.k. Come on, I mean, seriously, how was a girl expected to feel considering all that?! On the way to the ER I had Will stop at CVS so that I could get an "old fashioned" thermometer, just in case that digital new age one really wasn't working. 102!

So we headed to Ft Belvoir where I received outstanding care in minimal time in a mini private room in the ER. I was pumped full of very strong, broad spectrum antibiotics which had to enter my system slowly intravenously. After a couple of hours (and bouts of sickness, either from the meds or the mysterious yet to be discovered infection) I was diagnosed as Neutropenic and ambulanced to Walter Reed at 2:30 in the morning where I have spent the last few days receiving even more wonderful care and even more antibiotics.

"Neutropenia" is a condition of an abnormally low number of a particular type of white blood cells called neutrophil. White blood cells (leukocytes) are the cells in the blood that play important roles in the body's immune by fighting off infection. Neutrophils function by actually killing and eating up microorganisms that invade our bodies. Not only was my blood count low, but this particular one was critically low, leaving me with no defense against common germs and possibly already having some type of infection. Neutropenia is not at all an uncommon occurrence for a chemo patient but is a very serious and potential fatal condition. The chemo itself is designed to kill the fast dividing cells, which of course includes the cancer cells but it also targets ALL the fast dividing cells, which includes marrow, blood, skin and hair. That's why people lose their hair through some/most chemo. The goal is for the long term benefits to outweigh the short term negative side affects.

Speaking of hair, mine is still here, and it's still cute. :) It's a bit shorter than usual. I got it cropped last Monday night after chemo, choosing to control what I can about this process. Will & I trimmed it again last night in the hospital room with a bit of "shear madness"! The prediction is that any now now what I do have may be departing. But hey! Who knows?! I have done amazing so far through chemo, other than being hospitalized of course! I can handle not having hair, especially since it is only temporary and I have had GREAT hair all my life. This will just be another opportunity to do something unexpected with the scalp! ;0)

They have weaned me from my antibiotics and my i.v and are now just making sure I don't spike a temperature again. My labs area ll looking good and I have not have a fever since yesterday morning. The goal is to let me go home this afternoon, but first I have to get a "picc" inserted. The pick is a catheter that will be placed in a large vein in my upper arm leading to my heart which will do nothing but benefit me. Although I'd like to think I won over the warmth of my nurses, it was with NO help from my veins at all! My veins are weak and will only get weaker with more treatment and more needle use and they have decided to become very difficult and stingy. The pick will allow blood to be taken without anymore sticks and my chemo will be infused in the same place, making it safer also. It will also eliminate all the nasty bruises I am getting with each and every stick, making me feel even more like I look sick.

By the way, they never found the cause of the mysterious infection. They say that happens about 50% of the time. They checked for nearly everything so at least we know I don't have appendicitis nor am I pregnant (either would have literally been a miracle!).

UPDATE: PICC was inserted successfully and I am clear to go home hopefully not to return until my next chemo cycle on the 19th!

Ta-Ta For Now!

We met with the geneticist on Friday afternoon. My BRCA 1&2 results came back negative. That's great for at least 2 huge reasons. Although the women in my family should still be safe & aware, at least we are not "cursed" with a predisposition for breast cancer. The second breath of relief is that had I tested positive for the gene mutation, a bilateral mastectomy would have been recommended for safety's sake but fortunately that is no longer a possibility that I have to face.

I will start hounding my oncologist tomorrow morning and every day there after until I find out the results of the Oncotype DX test. It's difficult to plan anything ranging from long weekends away to family visits without knowing if I'll need chemo prior to radiation.

Ta-Ta For Now! ;0)

Support Tammy's Ta-Ta's - Avon Walk for Breast Cancer

Well, I've committed to the Avon Walk which will take place in Washington DC the first weekend in May. It's a little less than a month away and it’s a big commitment, walking all those miles and raising all this money, but, as we know far too well, breast cancer is a big disease. I'v had a quote at the bottom of my site since I started blogging, "If you think research is expensive you should try disease. Funds are needed to raise awareness and find a cure." That statement is there because I believe it with all my heart, although I pray that no one ever has to "try disease". With your support we'll come closer to a cure and maybe one day that prayer will be an answered prayer.

Since being diagnosed I have said that ridding my body of this life threatening disease will take many steps, from the first 3 lumpectomies to years requiring medication and every step in between. Each successful step is necessary in order to move on to the next. For me, and for thousands of women, this walk is a step, not only figuratively, but literally countless steps towards a cure.

I am determined to do everything I can to be cured of my cancer. My ultimate dream is that no woman ever have to take this journey. I quickly learned after my diagnosis how very important it is to have a strong support system. It is vital. Some days it's all you have. I've been blessed to be surrounded with such a support system. So much so that some of them have chosen to show their support for me by joining me on my walk.

My teammates and I are defiintely commited to this walk but we can not do it without you. We need you as our support system. To walk collectively as Team "Tammy's Ta-Ta's" each of us must raise $1,800 in donations. Make a difference in my life and in the lives of thousands of women - please donate.

Thank you SO much for you support!