MRI Results & Current Game Plan

Maybe I should just "cut and paste" from my previous surgical follow-ups. Yes, that is a tad bit of sarcasm & frustration you're detecting.

Seriously, the news I received toady, like every other time it seems, was not BAD, it just wasn't great. From what I understand at this point, the MRI showed the remaining cancer to be localized, so the next (yes, that would be the 3rd!) surgery was scheduled for the 6th of March, and they should be able to get all the cancer out at that time. Hmm......isn't that what the last one was supposed to do? Isn't that what the first one should have done? Maybe the third time will be charm.

The MRI also detected "something" notable on the right breast which will be monitored by a follow-up MRI in 6 months. It's possible that it's just scar tissue from a previous surgery but, quite honestly, they weren't initially concerned about this cancerous lump that has now required 3 surgeries, so I am a little unsure what that means. I plan to follow up for more specifics. A comforting bit of knowledge that I have acquired since this all began a few months ago is that breast cancer is a slow growing cancer so if it didn't identify itself on an MRI then it is most likely safe to wait and see.

I have also contacted John's Hopkins for a second opinion. They were mentioned during a support group meeting I attended last week with my "niece-in-law" Chrissy. Chrissy was diagnosed a little over a year ago with breast cancer and has proven to be a true survivor in many ways. She has also been a true blessing and support to me - so thanks Chrissy! ;0) Anyway, the second opinion isn't because I don't have confidence in my medical team at Walter Reed but as we all know, I am NOT the typical girl and hence my breast cancer has not been the typical case! I just want to be sure that I am making the wisest, most informed decisions possible. The weight placed on the shoulder's of anyone having to make decisions now will literally affect your life significantly in one way or another is immeasurable, and somewhat indescribable. It's scary to think of the lifelong consequences of a wrong or misinformed decision.

As of now I am scheduled for the lumpectomy in March and it will be much easier than my last, since no lymph nodes will have to be taken. Unfortunately you can only be a "lab-rat" once with some of the clinical trials, to include the numbing catheter that I had placed in my neck last time. That stuff REALLY kept the incision sites numb for the first week. I guess now I will truly be able to compare how effective it was.

They squeezed me in for pre-op today so I won't have to make another trek up here to Walter Reed and the wait time has given me the opportunity to work on this post as well as add some from days gone by. I'm enjoying the blog. It's been good for me. I hope you've found it useful in some way also.

"Ta-Ta" for now! :0)

B/C + MRI + I.V. + Claustrophobia = Anxiety

What's worse than having breast cancer? Having breast cancer, being claustrophobic and having to have an MRI!

I had my MRI tonight, and it wasn't without a good bit of anxiety - at least initially. I think I was actually more nervous about a simple MRI than I was the day of either of my lumpectomies. I knew it would be close quarters in there, but I simply didn't allow myself to think too much about it ahead of time. Considering what I have already been through, I didn't feel the need to really educate myself about the "how", just the "why". That is until they called my name and I went from the chair in the waiting room to once again sitting in a hospital gown and being prepped for an I.V. THAT'S when I got nervous. I usually over-evaluate everything and now find it funny that I hadn't even considered the possibility that I would need an I.V. or the fact that I am claustrophobic! The I.V would be needed to inject a dye half way through the hour long test which would show contrast during the remaining half hour. In all they would take approximately 1,000 images.

The I.V. was in, I was on the table face down with my head basically boxed in and I wondered if I would be able to finish the procedure without first hyperventilating and having to be pulled out. I knew the wait time for an appointment was typically 2 and 1/2 months and that some calls were made by people who knew people to get me my appointment in just over a week's time. Of course I didn't want to waste the appointment or delay my diagnosis/treatment any further but still, knowing that didn't ease my anxiety and I seriously thought, "I just don't want to do this."

I usually go to my "happy place" of choice during a procedure. I must say, I have visited the tropical islands a few times too many lately. I'm beginning to worry that at some point I will no longer associate Jimmy Buffet, the warmth of the sunshine, a cool sea breeze, the scent of coconut oil, and a couple of tropical drinks with rest, relaxation and rejuvenation! Still, I tried to take that quick & inexpensive trip to the islands once again but just couldn't seem to get there. Where my mind did wander to surprised me and ultimately reassured me.

It may have been due to all of the noise, the clicking and banging of the MRI machine, or maybe because I was in Walter Reed Army Medical Center, amongst countless (far too many) wounded warriors, or it may have even been based partially on the fact that military bearing and discipline have been ingrained in me for so long, but whatever the reason, my mind wandered to those troops, to the battles they faced both on the field as well as those here at home. I've met a lot of those troops. I've seen them, spoken with them. I've met many of the families of troops who will never come back, to include the kids of those kids.

When I thought about it I realized that what I have to deal with is easy, even safe in a sense compared to what so many of them face confined in tanks or to hospital beds. I told myself to lay their, still, quietly and calmly. Even thankfully. I told myself to lay there as if my life depended on it. I did and as I did I realized that my life actually may depend on that MRI.

When you have to do something that scares you, or that you think you can't - do it as if you're life depended on it. Think of what others have already gone through. Oh, and definitely fight like a girl while you're at it!!! :)

BTW - I won't know the results of my successfully completed MRI until I meet with my Dr. next Wednesday.

B/C + MRI + I.V. + Claustrophobia = One more successful step taken
I've never like math, but even I know these odds are in my favor!

Dancing in the Rain

I came across this one evening while "researching" cancer info. I found it to be so inspirational. I found just what I needed. I can only hope to have such an amazing attitude throughout life. Here's to " Dancing in the Rain" ~T3

Dancing in the Rain
by Decaturjulie on 9/8/2007 at 7:55 am
in category Inspirational

My Aunt who was just diagnosed with lymphoma sent this to me this week and I thought you all might enjoy it. Be well.

Attitude
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head. Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today." So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head. "Hmm," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today." So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"

Attitude is everything!
Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly.......
Leave the rest to God
Life isn't about waiting for the storm
to pass...
It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Recovering from the Recovery Room

OK, seriously the WORST - ABSOLUTELY WORST thing about my surgery was that I suffered the worst wedgie of my life as I was wheeled out of recovery and into my room!!! And my technician, as sweet as she was, must not have learned the definition of "wedgie" in her "English as a second language" class! How crazy is it that the first words to my entourage was about my wedgie! I guess no crazier than me mentioning it now!

My pain was very well under control most of the night and my faithful entourage left around 7 p.m. Will was the last to leave and I actually had to SEND him home at 8:00. I had a GREAT night's sleep and plenty of morphine from the drip I controlled with the push of a finger.

I was released before noon the following day and the next several days were pretty uneventful, other than the vivid, and often hilarious dreams I enjoyed during my drug induced state. I actually woke myself up laughing out loud a couple of days in a row!

After all, laughter is the best medicine! The pain relieving catheter was pretty darn wonderful too!