Hoping its Nothing

Last Monday I finally had my MRI for the bone infection. Two days later I got the results. No bone infection but there is a 1.5 cm spot on my lung. So, today I am off to get a pet/ct scan. Strangely enough, I haven't been thinking about it too much over the weekend. I felt happy and light hearted despite the upcoming test and the possibility of cancer.  I was extremely nervous before I got the results of my blood work. The cancer antigen levels came back very low. Actually one marker was lower than my last blood work 2 months ago. That gave me a little peace of mind but it doesn't mean that this isn't cancer.

Yesterday I was on a meat and greens only diet.  Today I am fasting before the scan. The only thing I am allowed to consume is the plethora of meds. Antibiotic, estregon blocker, vitamin, and today I took some diazepam. Anything to help with the anxiety I know will hit once I get into that machine. I'm already feeling a little loopy from the meds.  Prayers please for clear scans. 

Adam Gave Up a Rib... I Guess I Can Too

Infections are a nasty thing.  I've been battling this stupid infection at my mastectomy site for I don't even know how long.  I know the severe pain started when I was going through radiation.  I suspect that the infection started long before radiation back to almost a year ago when I had my expander surgery one week after Zeek was born.  That makes the most sense to me.  That would have given this infection plenty of time to wreak havoc in my body.  I went back to the infection doctor yesterday because the infection symptoms keep coming back every time I go off of antibiotics.  He thinks it's a bone infection.  Bone infections are very difficult to treat.  When he said that, it scared the crap out of me.  Are you saying I'm winning the battle with cancer but an infection could kill me?  He said no but he will need to be very aggressive in treating the bone infection and possibly need to surgically remove the suspected rib.  Zeek and I left his office and I started crying tears of frustration.  I want to be done.  I don't want to lose any more time or body parts.  I've lost my hair.  I've lost a boob.  I've actually had to go through the emotional loss of my breast three times now.  The first time when I had my mastectomy.  The second time when we found out the expander was put in the wrong place.  The third time when I had to have the replaced expander removed because of infection.  Now I might have to have ribs removed?  How much more disfigured can I become?  Yes...poor me...poor me...but today all I can think of is... You can take my hair, you can take my breast, you can even have some ribs... but you cannot take my life... you cannot take my joy.  Cheesy, I know.  I'm feeling the cheesiness... especially today when I'm feeling down.  But I believe in the power of positive thinking, fake it 'til you make it, denial... whatever works to keep me out of the dumps.  Most of all, I trust God with my life.  My suffering is nothing compared to what Jesus endured here on Earth.  I don't say that lightly either.  It's not just the good Christian thing to say.  I truly believe it to the depths of my soul.  My suffering is pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

Well, on to bigger and better things.  The party in celebration of Ezekiel's 1st birthday, my being cancer free for one year, and a housewarming party all together on one big happy day.  October 27th is the day.  I would really love for everyone to come.  I want to celebrate with all of you who have walked with me through the past year and a half.  You have supported, encouraged, loved, and prayed for Ezekiel and for me and I am so grateful for you all.  I sent out a FaceBook invite and sent an evite to those who I have email addresses for but if you haven't received an invite and would like to attend, please send me an email and I will send an evite.  Rebecca.d.raymond@gmail.com (Lisa Gallardo- you have been a huge blessing to me through all your encouragement and love and meals.  I don't have your email address but I would love it if you could come.)

Sunday Zeek and I will be doing a 5k fundraiser for the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara.  This is where I received all my treatment.  All monies raised will go towards research for clinical trials.  Last year my friend Heidi did this even in my honor.  I was 9 months pregnant and bald and had tears in my eyes as I watched her cross the finish line.  I get emotional just thinking about what it means to me to be able to do the event this year while pushing my precious little breast cancer survivor in the jogger.  If you are interested in sponsoring me, here is the link for my donation page.
https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1075922&supId=392408481

Fitting in

The kids are off to school, the baby is down for a nap, the husband is upstairs working and here I sit in the backyard on my computer with a cup of coffee...it doesn't get much better than this.  I feel so blessed.  How can I not when this is my view.

There's a lot of talk about how to adapt to life after treatment.  I've put a lot of thought into this.  At first I was feeling like I didn't fit in anywhere.  I don't really feel like I belong with any one group of women.  Moms with young children... that's me but what do I really have in common with them other than the fact that I'm a mom?  Breast cancer survivors... that's me but what do I have in common with them other than the fact that we both had breast cancer?  Where do I fit?  That's when I really got to thinking about my situation.  I've never really 'fit in" but have any of us really "fit in"?  We have all had these personal journeys through life that are totally unique.  No matter how extreme our experiences are, none of them are the same.  I believe that I now "fit in" more than I ever have before.  The life experience God has given me has allowed me to connect with people in a new way.  I truly believe that I have a deeper capacity for love and compassion, for empathy and sympathy, for relationships.  I "fit in" with moms who are juggling all the responsibilities of being a mom.  I "fit in" with women (mostly older ones) who are diagnosed with cancer.  Most of all, I "fit in" with people who are going through a traumatic event in life.  Cancer has left me with a new understanding of fear and pain.   No matter what kind of traumatic event has happened, I feel connected to and understanding of that person's pain.  Before cancer I couldn't understand.  A person going through a traumatic experience left me with only these words... "I can't imagine what you're going through."  That is no longer me.  I can imagine it too vividly... the pain and the fear.  And you know what... it is the biggest blessing I have ever received.  I've always believed that pain is a good thing because without it how can we truly know happiness. 

Moving to a new city has been refreshing in the sense that no one knows that I ever had cancer.  It's up to me whether I want them to know.  As far as my neighbors know, I'm just a mom who likes having short hair.  It does get a little awkward sometimes when I meet people and we start talking about our lives and I get to a point in the conversation where I have to make the decision about whether or not to spill the beans.  Sometimes I don't want to shock people with my story.  There's no way around it... pregnant with cancer is shocking.  Conversations can lead to my history with cancer more quickly than you would think.  I'm going to pick up my prescription... I'm having a hot flash..  I had surgery in June... I'm on antibiotic for an infection... I'm not breast feeding... all of these statements that I make lead to one thing.  Yes, I'm on medication to stop my ovaries from producing estrogen which fed my cancer and it causes hot flashes.  Yes, I had surgery to remove my fake boob that I had to get because my real one got chopped off after it was invaded by cancer.  Yes, I have an infection in my chest wall where I used to have a breast.  Yes, I tried to breast feed but I had to start chemo again... and no you can't breast feed while you're being injected full of poison.  Don't get me wrong.  It's not that I want to avoid the topic of having cancer.  I just don't want every conversation to lead there because sometimes it gets awkward.  I also don't want people to see that when they see me.  I want to be known as Rebecca not as "that chick who had cancer while she was pregnant".

The infection is back.  I started antibiotics a couple days ago.  I'm really frustrated by the infection because it makes me worry about my immune system and the fact that it's not doing it's job.  Other than the infection I'm doing really well.  I've started walking the hills around my house.  It's an excellent workout.  It feels good to be able to push myself physically again.  I'm really looking forward to getting back in shape.  I took a picture of myself yesterday after I'd climbed to the top of the hill I live on... please excuse the bed head. 

The big bubba will be 11 months old next week.  He has started taking his first solo steps already.  I can't believe how advanced he is.  He is truly a little miracle in our lives.  I will be throwing a really big party in October.  Everyone is invited...details to follow.  It will be a 1st birthday / 1 year cancer free / house warming party.  So many things to celebrate!

Labels

It's been a long time since I've posted.  I've been busy...very busy and I just haven't had the time or energy to update my blog.  I actually started a post last month but then my computer crashed and I lost it.  It was titled "Pride Goeth Before the Fall".  It was about how my hair was coming back in and my eyelashes were so long and beautiful and I was so proud of them and then they all fell out.  Well, the lashes are back again, I'm happy to report.  It's weird that they fell out again so many months after finishing chemo.  Thank God my hair didn't fall out too!  It finally got long enough to need a cut.  Here's a picture of my friend Ember and me with my new hair taken this past weekend while she was visiting from Minnesota.

My new home is 14 miles away from my parents' house.  It feels much further away than just 14 miles.  For the year that I was going through treatment, my husband, children, and I were blessed to live with my parents.  I didn't take one second of that blessing for granted.  Now that we have moved into our home and I am on my own, I feel like a baby bird being pushed from it's nest, learning how to fly, building strength in it's wings, figuring out how to survive.  It's exhausting but I'm finally starting to feel like I'm getting the hang of it.  I've been so busy with just the every day stuff and on top of that unpacking, painting, surgery, infection, 3 weeks of IV antibiotics, mammogram and MRI on the remaining real boob, another 6 weeks of oral antibiotics, kids starting a new school...etc.  That infection really wiped me out.  I started antibiotics for the infection in June and it finally just cleared up last week.  My immune system is still compromised and my body just couldn't fight it off.  Four different types of antibiotic over two and a half months finally did the job.  I am finally feeling much better.

My little miracle boy turned 10 months old this past Sunday.  I can't believe it...in two months he will be a year old.  He is such an amazing, happy, brute of baby.  He weighed in at 29 lbs at his 9 month check up.  He has mastered the art of speed crawling and is moving on to standing by himself and pushing his little walker around the house.  I'm hoping he continues his trend of reaching milestones early and starts walking soon because he's one heavy little guy and my back is really starting to feel it.  Here he is with my dad this past Saturday.

I really need to start updating my blog more frequently.  There are so many things on my mind that I would like to share but when they start to stack up I don't know where to begin.  There's so much going on in my head with all this cancer survival stuff.  I really don't like the term survivor... It just isn't my thing.  It's a label and I'm not into labels.  Cancer is by far not the hardest thing in my life that I have gone through and I have no intentions of letting it define me.  Maybe that's one of the reasons I so greatly dislike the whole pink campaign.  I am just a person, a creation of God.  A person in awe of God's creation and blessings in my life.  And here is a perfect example of that.  I took this picture of my back yard and a doe and her fawn.  How blessed am I?

 

Deformed

I just finished crying...big ugly tears kind of crying. And yes, it's because I'm feeling sorry for myself. I had my surgery this morning to remove my expander and the necrotic skin. It was quick and easy. I arrived at the surgery center at 6 am where they made me wait in the waiting room for an hour before taking me back to the pre-op area. I love how they do that...make you get up earlier than you needed to so you can wait around. So I went in at 7 am, surgery started at 8, at 9:15 I was in recovery texting my sister telling her to come pick me up, and by 10 am I was home at my parent's house. The kids and I had spent the night at my parents house so my dad could watch the kids while my mom took me to the hospital.  John is in Alaska for work. He asked if he should cancel his trip because of my surgery but my mom and my sister were willing to take care of me and the kids so he was able to still go. Anyhow, I spent the day at my parents house after surgery. I'm pretty doped up on pain killers so the pain isn't too bad. I've had quite a bit of nausea from the anesthesia and had to run to the bathroom a couple of times. I slept on and off throughout the day and then after dinner my parents drove us home. They got the kids to bed for me. After they went home I went to my room to get ready for bed. I took off the bandages and looked at the surgery site where I expected to see a flat boobless chest. That's not what I saw. What I did see horrified me. I'm actually starting to tear up again just thinking about the experience. I'm deformed. Not just mastectomy deformed. I don't even know how to describe the hideous vision of what was formerly known as my right breast. It's this big mess of tight skin and excess skin with a huge incision which lies in a sunken in valley where the expander used to be. I saw this mess for the first time about an hour ago and I cried tears of self pity. Lots of big ugly tears with several sobs thrown in as well. 

I've had two episodes of self pity tears today. The first time happened this morning after I got all gowned up for my surgery. I really didn't like the nurse who was doing all my pre-op preparation. She was stiff and cold. She had no compassion. I felt so strong going into this surgery. I didn't feel too disappointed about losing my foob (fake boob). I wasn't afraid of the surgery or the recovery. I was fine. Then this nurse was cold toward me. She didn't do anything wrong. She just wasn't anything like all of the loving, compassionate, tender hearted nurses that I've had before. Then again, all those previous nurses knew about my diagnosis during pregnancy. This nurse today, all she knew is that I was there for surgery with a plastic surgeon. All of a sudden I felt defensive with this nurse. I wanted to say to her... Do you realize that I don't want to be here?  Do you realize that something is being taken from me today that I don't want to have taken away again?  Do you realize that most women my age having plastic surgery are getting a nose job or a tummy tuck and all I want is to have a second breast but I don't get to because my cancer treatment caused an infection. I wanted to tell her all these things but I was just saying them to myself and causing my own heart ache. Once you start down that road...that road of misery and self pity, it's hard to stop.  Yes, all those things are true. But what's the point of dwelling on them or even thinking about them at all for that matter?  It's so much easier to just ignore those feelings. It's healthier for me to ignore those feelings...because I'm doing fine. Actually... I'm great. I choose to be good...even with only one boob and a deformed right side. I might cry every time I look in the mirror...but cover that crap up and I can forget it's even there and then I'll be fine. I really do believe that we choose how we live our lives. I choose to live well. Oh...that reminds me of a hymn. I'm sure that hymn would describe exactly what I'm feeling.  I can't think of the name. All I can think of is that it says something about being well in my soul. Okay figuring out what hymn that is will be a job for tomorrow because I am too tired tonight. 

Paint Me a Picasso

Today I'm feeling pretty dumb. I started radiation in March. My plastic surgeon didn't get to finish filling my expander before radiation began which meant that my fake boob was quite a bit smaller than my real one.  Radiation lasted for 7 weeks and when I finished my expanded breast was the same size as my real breast. I didn't even realize it until last night in the ER. The ER doc poked a needle into the infected area of my breast to get some discharge to swab. Well, that tiny hole became a drain for an unbelievable amount of serosanguineous fluid.  (Serosanguineous fluid is a yellowish/pinkish colored fluid). Every hour the nurse had to redress the wound because the gauze pads were drenched in the nasty stuff. By the time I was discharged  it was still draining. The nurse sent me home with a bag full of supplies and by the time I got home I had to redress the wound again. I'm not kidding you...I think I lost at least a pound from all the fluid that came out of me and my breasts are back to being lopsided. 

The most amazing part to me is that I didn't realize how much pain I had been in until all that pressure was relieved. The pain started with 2 weeks left in radiation. I was having horrible pain. It had become painful to even wear clothing that put pressure anywhere near my breast.  I'm talking even the smallest amount of pressure...even the pressure from a camisole tank top was uncomfortable. Another interesting fact is that the headaches I was having started at the same time as the pain in my breast. 

This morning I took the kids to VBS, called my plastic surgeon and informed him of the new situation. I went in to see him immediately. He took a look at my infected foob (fake boob) and informed me that the skin is dead and will have to be surgically removed. The expander will have to be removed as well unless by some miracle the infection has not spread to encompass the expander. Chances are slim to none but that's what I'm hoping for. Surgery needs to happen very soon. He also referred me to an infectious disease doctor. I love my plastic surgeon by the way. He is so quirky. Anyhow, I went and saw the infectious disease doctor and he thinks the infection is staph. He prescribed 14 days of IV antibiotics. He called in the prescription to Walgreens Infusion and they delivered the IV supplies and the antibiotic to my home and then Walgreens sent out their best nurse to set up my IV and teach me how to administer my own antibiotics. That amazing nurse just happens to be my very own amazing sister, nurse Cyndi. Pretty awesome right?  My sister really is amazing. Besides being a Peds nurse at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara, she also works for Walgreens Infusion.  Oh yeah...and she also has her own mobile phlebotomy business too. So she always draws all my labs for me and saves me from sitting in another waiting room. I know...you don't have to tell me...I'm blessed to have her.  On top of her 3 jobs she also has a husband and 3 kids. She also somehow managed to go to almost all of my chemo appointments with me too. I wish I could send her a cruise. 

My plastic surgeon called me after he had spoken with the infectious disease doc and they have me on the surgery schedule for next Wednesday. Cut out the dead skin and remove the expander. I will once again resemble a Picasso...one boob. That guy would have loved to paint my portrait. I'm sure of it. Actually, I think this one might be of me. 

a CT and an IV

Life is busy...a wonderfully normal kind of busy. It's been great. It's been exhausting. There is so much to update. I turned 34 years old on June 1st. That was also the same day I moved into my new home. I've been running around like a mad woman for the past two weeks doing field trips and class parties with the kids, doctor appointments, unpacking, and just normal mom stuff. It's unbelievable how much less energy I have these days. By mid afternoon, I feel like I need lots and lots of ibuprofen and caffeine or just a really early bedtime. 

On June 6th I was scheduled to have an MRI of my brain to find out if the headaches I had been having were caused by cancer. I went to my appointment and getting ready to start the procedure the tech says, "did you say you have a breast expander?  Does it have metal in it?"  Well, the answers were yes and yes. No MRI for me...duh...I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. You can't put metal in a big magnet. That could have turned out really bad. I immediately drove over to my oncologist's office and told him and he got me scheduled for a STAT CT for the following day. Those days are really hard for me.  The days when it feels like things are just all wrong.  The days that are filled with frustration and fear of what could be wrong. It is also those days that are so hard for me when I get to experience blessings. That night while I was making dinner, my doorbell rang. I opened the door to a delivery of an edible arrangement from two of the sweetest people I know. These two ladies have blessed me so much throughout this past year and so many times it was on days when I needed a little pick me up and to feel loved.  Well, the following day I did have my CT scan and received the results that same day. My brain is fine. And you know what?  It's amazing how much better my headaches are now that I'm not spending so much time stressing about them. I thought they were just stress headaches but now I know how much the stress and fear was actually exacerbating them. 

I am currently a patient in the ER at Santa Paula Hospital. About two weeks ago I started experiencing some issues with the skin on my fake boob. I went in to see my plastic surgeon and he prescribed an antibiotic and some skin cream. Well the skin has gotten a lot worse. Today I showed it to my sister nurse Cyndi, and she wanted me to go to the ER. I was surprised because it has to be pretty bad for her to suggest an ER. So here I sit with an IV dripping away.  I've been here for 4 hours already getting pumped full of the strongest antibiotic they've got. I have a couple more hours to go because the IV can only drip so fast and they have given me an extremely high dose. We're not sure what type of infection it is but these bags full of IV meds will kill it, I'm sure. Unfortunately it looks like I will most likely have to have the expander removed. Another surgery...just what I don't need.  Oh well. 

Here I am in the ER with my sister, Cyndi. 

Here's my new home.