I hope you never have to experience the inside of an oncologist's examination room. It's quite boring.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Not much to report, so here are some photos instead
Monday, June 10, 2013
Lovely little moments
“Choose to be optimistic, it feels better.”
― Dalai Lama XIV
Well put, Dalai Lama!
Last week was full of wonderful happenings. I met with an old friend I'd not seen in years, and she shared with me her journey with LCIS. Lumpectomies, Tamoxifen, etc. It didn't sound so scary.
I spoke with a specialist at Breast Cancer Connections and she emailed me a slew of information that I'd not been able to find online or at the library.
A good friend's sister was in town visiting, and she happens to be a genetic counselor, so I was able to get another professional perspective on my situation.
At the end of the week, I met a friend's mom who is a breast cancer survivor, and her diagnosis was much more serious than mine. She's doing wonderfully, and offered support.
A relative who I thought was lost to me forever rejoined my life.
Many lovely moments to be thankful for!
― Dalai Lama XIV
Well put, Dalai Lama!
Last week was full of wonderful happenings. I met with an old friend I'd not seen in years, and she shared with me her journey with LCIS. Lumpectomies, Tamoxifen, etc. It didn't sound so scary.
I spoke with a specialist at Breast Cancer Connections and she emailed me a slew of information that I'd not been able to find online or at the library.
A good friend's sister was in town visiting, and she happens to be a genetic counselor, so I was able to get another professional perspective on my situation.
At the end of the week, I met a friend's mom who is a breast cancer survivor, and her diagnosis was much more serious than mine. She's doing wonderfully, and offered support.
A relative who I thought was lost to me forever rejoined my life.
Many lovely moments to be thankful for!
Nothing to see here, move along ... no, wait, maybe there's something to see here
I had the mammogram and an ultrasound on my right breast today. Dr. Jain said that it didn't look like anything abnormal, but that because I'm now high risk for developing an invasive breast cancer, she'd like to do a biopsy on the right breast. Oh joy. The biopsy hurts more than the lumpectomy, but at least the recovery time is quicker.
I see Dr. Wilson (the Oncologist) on Wednesday, and then July 8th I'll have the biopsy.
I see Dr. Wilson (the Oncologist) on Wednesday, and then July 8th I'll have the biopsy.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
I'm not crying, I have something in my eye.
I knew it was going to happen, it just took longer than I expected. My mom visited me in a dream last night.
I was in a theater, in the dark, and the lights came on, so I guess the play had just ended. I stood and turned around and my family was in the row behind me, still seated. My mom had been sitting behind me the entire time.
I said to her, "I've been waiting for you. I thought you were gone."
She responded, "No. I'm not gone. I'm always here."
And then I woke up, but desperately tried to go back to sleep, to the dream. I wanted to talk to her some more.
Today was hard. It feels as if I am finally starting to grieve. So many people tell me that I'm strong, but I don't see what they see. I just don't want to be that mopey person that is depressing to be around, so I am trying to be strong, and humorous, but today I just need to cry and possibly, admit that I'm really quite frightened about everything going on with my health. Today I am so grateful for Alan and his hugs, and for not having to be brave around him. I'm grateful for a beautiful day of sunshine.
I was in a theater, in the dark, and the lights came on, so I guess the play had just ended. I stood and turned around and my family was in the row behind me, still seated. My mom had been sitting behind me the entire time.
I said to her, "I've been waiting for you. I thought you were gone."
She responded, "No. I'm not gone. I'm always here."
And then I woke up, but desperately tried to go back to sleep, to the dream. I wanted to talk to her some more.
Today was hard. It feels as if I am finally starting to grieve. So many people tell me that I'm strong, but I don't see what they see. I just don't want to be that mopey person that is depressing to be around, so I am trying to be strong, and humorous, but today I just need to cry and possibly, admit that I'm really quite frightened about everything going on with my health. Today I am so grateful for Alan and his hugs, and for not having to be brave around him. I'm grateful for a beautiful day of sunshine.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Results from MRI
Ambiguous, as always:
Dear Ms. Home:
Your MRI breast w wo contrast bilateral performed on May 22, 2013, shows the need for further evaluation. The Radiologist has recommended a right breast follow-up diagnostic mammogram.
My guess is that there's LCIS in the right breast as well. And since it doesn't show on a mammogram, this will be another exercise in futility. This whole business is tedious. I can see why people might ignore their health issues.
Dear Ms. Home:
Your MRI breast w wo contrast bilateral performed on May 22, 2013, shows the need for further evaluation. The Radiologist has recommended a right breast follow-up diagnostic mammogram.
My guess is that there's LCIS in the right breast as well. And since it doesn't show on a mammogram, this will be another exercise in futility. This whole business is tedious. I can see why people might ignore their health issues.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Everyday I'm shufflin'
I had the MRI last Wednesday. No results yet. It's not like on TV were they show you immediately after.* I'll discuss the results with Dr. Wilson in a couple of weeks.
I didn't realize that I was going to have to be injected with something.** If I have to have anything done involving my veins, I prep for it by drinking a lot of water the night before, as well as possibly work out a little. My veins are very tiny, and as such, the nurse had to make 4 attempts before getting one to work out. But that was the worst part of it. And the nurse was really nice, so I don't fault her for my teeny tiny veins. She asked the technician if we needed the injection, and the technician responded, "Yes. It's the money shot."
After that response, I was kind of in love with the technician. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good sense of humor. She helped me into the tube - face down with boobs in holes, face in a hole, arms above head, like a massage table. I imagine that because I was face down, it didn't feel as claustrophobic as it could have.
I had ear plugs in, and giant headphones on. The technician talked me through every test, but first she tested the mic to be sure that I could hear her. She let me know that she'd be playing some "soft rock". So this is the first line I hear: "I've got a bad disease". Um, maybe not the first line you want to hear when in this situation.
Fortunately the next song was Party Rock Anthem. Except that it made me want to dance. No dancing allowed in the tube. Boo.
In other news - I thought I may as well make some money to fight cancer, so here's my Team in Training fundraising link: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sj/nikesf13/mhomet
*Why can't life be more like TV?
** "something" was gadolinium. Rare earth element. Kind of cool.
I didn't realize that I was going to have to be injected with something.** If I have to have anything done involving my veins, I prep for it by drinking a lot of water the night before, as well as possibly work out a little. My veins are very tiny, and as such, the nurse had to make 4 attempts before getting one to work out. But that was the worst part of it. And the nurse was really nice, so I don't fault her for my teeny tiny veins. She asked the technician if we needed the injection, and the technician responded, "Yes. It's the money shot."
After that response, I was kind of in love with the technician. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good sense of humor. She helped me into the tube - face down with boobs in holes, face in a hole, arms above head, like a massage table. I imagine that because I was face down, it didn't feel as claustrophobic as it could have.
I had ear plugs in, and giant headphones on. The technician talked me through every test, but first she tested the mic to be sure that I could hear her. She let me know that she'd be playing some "soft rock". So this is the first line I hear: "I've got a bad disease". Um, maybe not the first line you want to hear when in this situation.
Fortunately the next song was Party Rock Anthem. Except that it made me want to dance. No dancing allowed in the tube. Boo.
In other news - I thought I may as well make some money to fight cancer, so here's my Team in Training fundraising link: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sj/nikesf13/mhomet
*Why can't life be more like TV?
** "something" was gadolinium. Rare earth element. Kind of cool.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Interesting Read
This is a great article about DCIS. It's not the same about LCIS, but it applies:
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/28/magazine/our-feel-good-war-on-breast-cancer.html?pagewanted=all
MRI is scheduled for next week.
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/28/magazine/our-feel-good-war-on-breast-cancer.html?pagewanted=all
MRI is scheduled for next week.
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