Radiation Treatments

37 treatments. Does that sound like alot?

When you put it into weeks, it comes to about 7 weeks of Monday thru Friday. And while each treatment day isn't long, the driving back and forth does get old.

Funny, I was really over it in the second week. I hated the drive and it felt like I would never make it to the end of week 7. But soon, it became second nature and I was on autopilot. So much so that after it was over, it felt very strange not to have to go.

I was worried about how my skin would hold up, but it did OK. The radiation nurses have several different lotions that they recommend and give you samples of. Some are greasy, others creamy. You pick which seems to work best with your skin type. I also had a nice lotion that I got at Whole Foods that I used a lot - and still do.

Girlfriend Factoid: We should all pay attention to a few simple things when looking for a good skin moisturizer. Little to no alcohol (becuase that actually removes moisture from your skin) and no perfumes. And really, do you want to walk around smelling like roses or coconut all day? We are adults and our Hawiian Tropic college summers are long past.

I've always been like a sun-loving flower. I turn towards the sun, feeling it invigorating my body and soul. But, in effect, I was getting burned in my chest area each morning, so I had to stay out of the sun. It sucked hiding in the shade. And it was quite the challenge with 2 young kids who love the outdoors and the pool.

What's the secret to keeping yourself sane and happy thru crappy periods in your life? Silver Linings. And mine for radiation? I had a good excuse not to get into a bathing suit and show off those extra 15 pounds I gained over the holidays and my chemo treatments.

Initial meeting with the Radiation Oncologist

Kevin and I weren't aware of the importance of this part of the treatment process, but we found out when we went to talk to a Radiation Oncologist in late June.

Because I am now missing a large grouping of lymph nodes in my right arm pit area, I have to be a bit more careful about my right arm and the circulation of the lymphatic fluids. If there is "trauma" to that arm, what's left of the lymph system might not be able to function like it is supposed to and I'll end up with swelling issues - potentially for the rest of my life.

Radiation can be this "trauma". So I was thinking I could scrimp a bit on radiation, have the surgeon just chop out some of the skin area they are worried about, and do physical therapy to get my range of motion back. Evedinially, I was way off base!

First, the R.O. doc thinks that if I was prone to lymphadema issues, we would have already seen some sign of that in the 6 months since my surgery. So he feels that my chances are slim for developing it after radiation - and if so, it wouldn't be severe at all.

More importantly, he wants to zap me in 3 areas. Not just in my arm pit area. He wants to also get the clavical area - which is the next major lymph node grouping and a perfect place for microscopic cancer cells to be hiding - and the chest wall. In general, the chest wall seems to be an area of concern for recurrant breast cancer. No surprise, that is a spot where my sister's cancer showed up on the 2nd go around - and mine seems to want to follow in her footsteps.

He also said something that really hit home and scared us a bit.

Because the docs feel this was a recurrance, it is technically my second round of breast cancer. And even though all of my scans showed no spreading, they are afraid there are microscopic cancer cells on the move in my body that just aren't big enough to be seen yet. So they want to hit those nasty cells with everything they have - surgery, chemo and radiation - to make sure that they are all gone.

And if any of my cancer cells live thru this three-tiered treatment regimine, then the next discussion we have with the doctors will be a very sad discussion that no one wants to have.

When it is put right in front of your face like that - it stops you cold.

So, needless to say, I am getting as much radiation as they reccommend - arm swelling or not.

CHEMO IS OVER!!!!

Did I mention --> CHEMO IS OVER!!!!

It seems like such an enormous accomplishment, and yet, in some ways, not so much.

Don't get me wrong, it certainly had its drawbacks and side effects - and I wouldn't want to do it again just for fun - but I feel very fortunate to have had a much easier experience than many people do.

Now we are on to radiation treatments. Part 3 of 3. Whew!

The not so funny part of cancer treatments is this: Despite all of the advances in medicine, it is still just a high-tech trifecta of medieval events. First they cut you open and take pieces out of your body. Then they poison you for months. And finally, they burn you into a crispy critter. About the only thing missing is leeches.

Still better than the alternative.

(Written in June - Posted in August because I apparently took summer vacation from posting items :)

The Waiting Room

I recently went to the hospital for a echo-cardiogram. One of my breast cancer drugs can do temporary damage to the heart. Luckily, it is leaving mine alone. That is great news, but not what we are here to discuss today.

That morning, as I approached the check-in counter/waiting room area of the heart center, I had to navigate through a lot of men just milling about. After check-in, it was time to sit - but there were no seats in the first 2 areas I scanned. Odd. So I head to the third area. All full but for one lone seat in the rear - and there I head.

Once seated, I dig out my book, and then the people of the room catch my eye. I am in a room packed full of only women. Then my brain starts putting pieces of the puzzle together.

Many of the men seated in the front room were similar looking to all of the men milling around. And all of the women in this room seemed to be together. There were a few younger ones, but most looked like the stereotypical Italian grandmother. Overweight, hair in a bun, semi-dowdy dress. What was going on? This wasn't a waiting room, it was a family reunion.

From the back corner where I was sitting, I grabbed my cell phone and acted like I was texting - but really, I was taking the following video. I knew I had to share this experience with others.

One of the nurses came out from the back and spoke to the woman closest to me. (How fortunate for my voyeuristic intentions.) Evidentially, the 50-ish people waiting around were family of a lady who was a patient in the back. She was doing OK for now and the family needed to move at least 15 people - all non-immediate family members - down to another waiting room.

A hand went into the air, her fingers snapped, and the younger ladies jumped up, a male family member appeared and he was instructed to move people. Despite the fact that all of the "grandmothers" sitting near me were probably not immediate family, not one of them moved even a miniature muscle in their face. Instructions for the normal family members do not apply for the matriarch generation. They do whatever the hell they want - and they weren't moving.

I did leave long before they did. I don't know what happened to their loved one. While I do hope that she was going to be OK - I do know one thing... If something did go wrong, and she happened to pass - the gathering after the memorial service would have included one insanely large, incredibly delectable spread that would have been worth crashing.

I promise to post more often

I have been very bad about posting lately. I apologize to my loyal audience of readers. All 2 of you. It would be 4, but my parents don't have the internet.

I would like to claim that posting has been on the back burner because life if just too damn exotic for me to take time out to type anything. All those days at the spa (can't type if my nails are wet) - the trips abroad (who has time to type when they are sunning in the South of France) - the endless fine dining (expensive wines and tastey Italian waiters) - saving the world (didn't you see me on the last episode of CNN's "Planet in Peril"?)

I could go on... however, I think we all know that the real reason I haven't posted much in March or April is a cross between laziness, the day-to-day craziness of the daily grind, and nothing interesting to say.

Are you waiting to know how many mountains of laundry I have climbed? Or maybe you are desperately concerned that I'm weeks behind on cleaning out the fish tank. Or, possibly you would have raised a glass of champaigne to toast my efforts to finally put away most of the papers off my office floor.

So, now that I have given the official "mea culpa" (and even started a draft of a new post!) I have to go put some clothes in the dryer. Until next time...

Good People Surround Me

I have to make a side-step from my normal flippant posts to send a quick shout out to all of those who have been so supportive of me, and my family this year.

If you are reading this, I'm betting that you have offered your help. For that I say thank you, and your good thoughts are appreciated - and I may need to take you up on your offer, if I haven't already.

For those who have given food and flowers, I again say thank you, it was truly appreciated.

For those who have taken my children at various times, I say thank you - I hope they were polite and well behaved. And I'm sure they had a wonderful time.

However, over the past week, there has been quite a bit going on, and I would like to acknowledge those involved. Here's your shot at internet-blog-immortality!

I would like to thank:

• ...my in-laws and Kevin's 91 year old grandmother. The in-laws took both of my girls to West Palm Beach for several days over Spring Break to visit Great-Great. It sounds like fun was had by all.
• ...the Williams family in Jacksonville, Fl who allowed us to invade their lives and crash at their house for 5 days and 4 nights. It was great to see you all, you treated us like royalty and we had a wonderful time.
• ...Judy, my parents, Karen, Kevin and Peyton for helping me transform Caitlyn's room from the "nursery" into a Spiderman/Superhero room fit for a "big kid". She LOVED it!
  
• ...the amazing group of sneaky friends (who happen to also be great neighbors) that transformed our neglected, winter-worn yard into a beautiful, spring-blooming-oasis. It really makes my heart want to burst at how much time, work and love you put into this surprise. Hugs and kisses to all - Marion, Randy, Sara, Mike, (Baby H.), Kirsten, Vicki, Debbie, Jan, Peter, Ced, Fred, Bessie & Tom.

If by chance I have missed anyone - please do not fret. My swiss-cheese brain will at some point remember, I will feel horrible, and I will try to make it up to you. And, if as I unpack from our trip, I can find the adapter for my camera, I will post pictures to go with this story.

Much love and thanks to all of my family, friends and support system!!!!!

Andrea

Cool Study: Fasting Before Chemo Protects Healthy Cells

Two days without food primed them for chemical onslaught and exposed cancer cells, study finds

By Alan Mozes

Posted 4/1/08

TUESDAY, April 1 (HealthDay News) -- Fasting for two days before chemotherapy might protect cancer patients against the toxic side effects of these powerful drugs by shielding healthy cells while dooming malignant cells to destruction, new research suggests.

"The side effects of chemotherapy are one of the major obstacles in fighting the cancer, and this provides a calculated method to protect the great majority of non-cancerous cells," said study co-author Valter D. Longo, an associate professor of biological sciences at the Leonard Davis School of Gerontology and the Norris Cancer Center at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles.

The finding, which stems from test-tube work and experiments with yeast and mice, is part of a broad effort to explore ways to reduce the collateral damage that chemotherapy typically produces.

Although not yet replicated among patients, the preliminary animal research is encouraging: As little as 48 hours of starvation afforded mice injected with brain cancer cells the ability to endure and benefit from extremely high doses of chemotherapy that non-starved mice could not survive.

The finding was published in the March 31 online issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Longo noted that the idea first came from a different field of research: anti-aging science.

"We had found that healthy cells have a 'shield mode' -- a kind of protective strategy that allows the organism to be resistant to not just one but dozens of threats and stresses, including starvation," he said. "So we thought this characteristic might be a way to distinguish between normal cells and cancer cells when applying chemotherapy. And it turns out that it works for yeast, for human cells in test tubes, and here, in mice."

Following genetic manipulation of yeast to show that mimicking starvation could confer a life-prolonging protection against stress, the researchers induced glucose deprivation among a series of rat and human cell lines, some cancerous, some healthy.

This protected the healthy cells against exposure to toxic compounds, while leaving cancer cells unprotected.

In turn, the researchers then tested mice injected with brain cancer cells to see how they faired upon exposure to a high dose of the chemo drug etoposide. Noting that just one-third of this amount is considered to be the maximum for what is allowable for human treatment, Longo and his team compared results among mice starved for 48 hours and 60 hours pre-treatment with mice that were not starved.

While 43 percent of the non-starved mice died within 10 days of treatment, only one of the 48-hour starved mice died in that time. As well, while starved mice had lost 20 percent of their weight before treatment, most regained it back within four days of chemo exposure while the non-starved mice actually lost 20 percent of their weight post-treatment.

Non-starved mice also suffered toxic side effects, such as impaired movement, ruffled hair and poor posture. The 48-hour starved mice displayed no such problems.

Mice starved for 60 hours were exposed to even higher chemo doses. At that level, all non-starved mice died by the fifth day, at which point all the starved mice continued to survive. Again, almost all starvation weight loss was regained post treatment, and no signs of toxicity were evident.

Longo and his colleagues concluded that short-term starvation does appear to guard healthy cells and allow cancer treatment to attack only diseased cells. They said they are now organizing a human trial.

"We hope this works with patients, and we have reason to think it will," he said. "I think I'm more enthusiastic about this than anything else I've done. And you can see the potential for this being turned into something very, very useful. But we won't know until we do it."

Dwayne Stupack, an assistant professor of pathology with the Moores Cancer Center at the University of California, San Diego, described the current effort as a "reasonable" approach toward mitigating the undesirable effects of chemotherapy.

"We all know that people can go for a few days without eating, and it's not going to kill them, because the cells in our body are able to adjust and make do," he noted. "It's an intrinsic evolutionary stress response that is designed to keep those cells alive. And it turns out that this response also works to keep those healthy cells alive during chemotherapy."

"So, I think what they've done is very interesting and exciting, in the sense that the tumor they looked at is very aggressive, very lethal, and they were able to use what I would call relatively high chemotherapy without causing toxicity -- because the cells have already been conditioned to sort of shut down," Stupack said.

Stupack cautioned, however, that the starvation technique might not work for everyone. "There are certain tumors that may already be altering metabolism to normal tissue, and certain populations of cancer patients among whom an intrinsic stress response to the cancer is already under way," he noted. "In these cases, this approach might not achieve anything further. Those are the kinds of limitations that should be considered."

1/2 way there...

Well, I'm sitting in the chemo chair waiting for my 3rd treatment. So far (knock on wood and hope I don't jinx myself) I have been fairing much better than expected. Yeah!

Some of my biggest hurdles have been:

• Getting to the treatments - Atlanta traffic is horrible and I'm over it. And, next year, when I do our taxes and calculate our medical expenses for 2008, can I include these insane gas prices?


• Remembering my numbing cream - There is this wonderful cream that will numb the skin and nerves around my port site. (Port: (n) the little mechanical window into my blood stream that lives under the skin on my chest) I have to use the cream 30-45 minutes before they punch a 1 inch needle into me for hooking up the IV. I've had 7 treatments so far, I think I've remembered to use the cream 4 times.


• Feeling OK - I'm still 15 pounds overweight. Darn-it! I'm blaming the steroids and the general fatigue (less walks in the n'hood) for counter-acting any decrease in calories I have been able to amass.
  


• Remembering to take my steroid pills - I am supposed to take a steroid called Decodron twice daily, the day before a chemo treatment, the day of, and the day after. Of course, I did it properly the first time because I was so nervous about the whole thing. Second time, I remembered the afternoon before, ran to Publix to get the pills, took all 4 with a Pharmacist prescribed milkshake for carb loading. (Not a bad punishment to make up for a mistake.) Now, today, the 3rd treatment. The nurse asks if I remembered - and of course I had not thought about it until that exact moment - YIKES! So, now, they are dripping a big dose into my system before I can have the real drugs. I hate being brain dead, which leads into...
  


• Juggling normal life with Chemo-Brain: (adj.) the fuzzy, cloudy, unfocused feeling cancer patients struggle with, but others can't really help with. Examples I've read about: One mom poured orange juice on her son's cereal. And she also waited expectantly for a return phone call only to realize she forgot to make the original call. Another woman poured gravy into water glasses on the dining room table and yet another who ordered olives for dinner. I'd put in some of my own examples, if I could remember them. Need I say more?
  

So there you have it. My sister Karen has just shown up with my coffee and chicken biscuit. Gotta go.

Mohawk Momma!

Well, it's done. My hair is gone - mostly. I couldn't resist the chance to wear a mohawk for a few days. I did, however, resist the urge to stop at a mullett.

I just happened to run across this great event that was shaving peoples heads to raise money for childhood cancer research. And the timing couldn't have been better. So, yesterday afternoon, we met at Fado's Irish Pub in Buckhead. We had a few beers, some food, lots of giggles, and had our heads shaved. Kevin even got interviewed and taped for 99X.com. His shaving will be available on the web in a day or so.



A very nice couple was volunteering at the event. Their daughter, who probably isn't much older than Kinsey, has been in remission for 5 1/2 years. Her mom said that her cancer was so aggressive, that it would have been back by now, so they feel that she is cured. What a relief. I have a deep fear that my girls will someday deal with breast cancer - but at least they will be adults. I can't imagine how it would feel to be a parent of a small child and have to deal with cancer. My heart goes out to these families. I am glad that while participating in this event was self-serving, we were able to help out with some donations also. Thanks to all who donated - and if you are interested, please see the links at the bottom of this posting.

Maddy, our awesome babysitter, has been growing her hair long for the past 3 years and had it cut for a "locks for love" donation. It was a good thing, but because it was a bar and not a real hair salon, the 2-minute cut was not what a 16 year old girl was anxious to have left on her head. Luckily, Judy and Maddy get their hair done just a block away from the pub and Maddy whisked off to get finished up. Her short hair looks great, and I've heard an even better, shorter, edgier cut is coming soon.

As we were leaving, the real Friday night partiers were filling the bar, so our table was being coveted by a group croweded in the corner. We told them they could only have the table if they would donate to the cause. I know they said "Sure" just to get the table, but Judy wasn't leaving yet since Maddy was still at the salon. So, she played police on this one and made sure they all filled out donation forms. Thanks Judy!!!


Kevin's page is:
http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/shavee_info.html?ParticipantKey=2008-44655

My page is:
http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/shavee_info.html?ParticipantKey=2008-44613

Is today the day?

When you are at the very end of a pregnancy - (unless you schedule endusement or a c-section) you walk around like an invisible alarm clock about to go off. You can hear the ticking in your head, but you can't see the hands of the clock and don't know when it is going to ring.

Every pain you feel makes you think 'is that a labor pain? is it starting?' Each errand you do creates a small panic 'please don't let my water break in the store!' You know the enevitable is coming any day, any minute, but when???? As anxious as you are, on some level, you are also scared to hear the buzzer.

Well, waiting for your hair to fall out is a very similar experience (minus the giddyness). You know it is coming out, but when. My sister says it is a very surreal experience - one day, you are in the shower and clumps of hair come off into your hands. No more shampoo needed - just a garbage can.

After the first chemo treatment, my hair was given 2-3 weeks to live. So soon? Tomorrow will be 3 weeks, and, until now, it was feeling strong. I have even had fleeting thoughts about maybe I'd be in that miniscule % of the population that doesn't lose their hair.

Caitlyn frequently asks, with a glimmer in her eye and a big, expectant smile on her face, "Mommy, is today the day you are going to be bald?" I would give a gentle tug, and answer "Nope, not today, but soon". She was always disappointed with that answer. Not me.

However, my hair has been feeling a good bit dryer over the past couple of days. An early warning sign - the baby has dropped. But this morning, when I ran a brush thru my hair, there sure was a lot of loose hairs in the brush. So I ran my hand thru, again a lot of hair - Oh No! Please let it be Braxton Hicks contractions!

Despite the fact that I need to shower and get dressed for the day, I'm afraid!

I have to remember that just as a pregnant woman is prepared with car seats and cribs, I have hats and bandanas. I'm prepared... just not ready.

Murphy has moved in...

Everyone's heard of Murphy's Law. It can apply to anything. Well, Murphy has made a special stop at the Farmer household.

Kinsey's had a few ear infections thru the years. Both kids have the common snotty nose colds here and there. Caitlyn has done her share with a broken arm and stitches to the head - but who counts that? My kids have been basically bullet-proof during their short lives... until now.

Part of the joy of chemotherapy is that it crushes your white blood cell count - and those are handy for fighting off infections. My first dose of chemotherapy was Feb. 20th. - about 2 weeks ago.

Within the last 3 weeks, I have spent more time at the pediatricians office and following my kids around with Lysol than I care to think about. Kinsey had strep throat. Caitlyn had a staph infection in her nose and finger (just imagine how those are linked in a 5 year old). Now Caitlyn and Kevin both have the flu.

Vera (who helps keep my house clean and therefore helps keep me sane) and I spent all morning wiping down every surface in the house with a germ killer - I've done more laundry and sheets than I care to discuss - and I still cringe when I see Caitlyn or Kevin breathe, touch or cough on anything.

So, to all the wonderful people who have offered assistance - does anyone want to move into the 'Typhoid Mary' house to take care of us for a week or so until the storm passes? No, I didn't think so - nor do I blame you - and I wouldn't let you anyway.

It is very hard to be the Mommy-Care-Giver when you are afraid to touch your family. This really sucks. When Caitlyn is feeling bad and crawls into Mommy's lap for comfort - am I supposed to kick her out?

I guess I'll just keep avoiding my family (although the way I'm feeling, I think it is too late) - stressing the hand washing - pouring antibacterial lotion on everyone's hands every 15 seconds - and following them around with the lysol. And when that doesn't work, I guess my first burst of weight loss may just have to come from the flu. So be it - it still counts.

The dream and the hang over

Well, the first 3-5 day window has come and gone. And while it wasn't near as bad as some of my fears, it wasn't a non-event either.

Thursday - Day 1 post treatment: Fine. Normal.

Friday - Day 2 p.t.: Feeling OK, but tired and cranky. Did I mention that I started my period today? Guess I can't blame PMS and cramps on chemo. But by Friday afternoon, I was exhausted. Not that I had done any more than my usual running around during the day with work and the kids - but I was exhausted!

Saturday - Day 3 p.t.: FOGGY!!! Talk about moving about in a dream. I could barely focus long enough to do a load of laundry. (Actually, I put one of Kinsey's sequined dress-up shawls into the laundry and everything - even Kevin's boxers - came out with sequins. Glad he's got a good attitude!)

I felt like I had a light buzz - and a hang over - all at the same time. I put on some jeans, took 1 step toward the bed, saw some sweat pants, took off the jeans and put on the sweats, turned again, and couldn't figure out what to do with the jeans I was holding. Nothing was making sense in my brain and actually, once I got out on the road to run an errand - I really thought about going back home because making clear fast decisions was not happening. I did decide not to drive the kids around that day at all. There was much napping and just sitting on Saturday.

Sunday - Day 4 p.t.: Hang over continues - head ache, nausea. But the fog had lifted some. After lunch time, I finally took an anti-nausea pill and had a nap. Those 2 things helped a lot. By dinner, I was almost hungry and ate like a normal person. By bed time, I just had some lingering mild nausea/ heartburn and thumpy head.

Monday - Day 5 p.t.: I woke up like a new person this morning. I felt good enough to shower and hop off to school to help Kinsey's class with a cool project. I'm still more tired than I would be normally with only a trace of nausea, but overall feel fine.

We've all heard about and/or witnessed people that feel horrible during chemo. I've also talked to many who said it wasn't that bad for them. And I've even heard stories of people getting lulled into thinking chemo isn't really that bad until the 2nd or 3rd treatment when it has started to build up in their systems.

Who knows which way this road trip will take me over the next few months. For today, I'm doing well, the sun is shining, I still have my hair, my husband is a love and a big help around the house, my kids are healthy and I have a ton of great support from family and friends. Could I really ask for much more?

In the chemo chair

Ok - I'm sitting in the chemo chair for the first time. I've had the first 2 of the 3 drips and all is well. Those were the 2 that they worry about allergic reactions with - but I am fine so far.

Everyone around here has been super nice. One man who brought his father in for treatment, had a box of cranberry muffins that his mother had made and was passing them around. Being that we had "Muffins For Mom" this morning at school, I was already muffined out.

And I've never been able to hold pee for a long time, especially after 2 kids. But, as Murphy's Law would have it, today, since I'm hooked up to a drip for several hours, my bladder has decided that it needs to be emptied more often than usual. This is a side effect that I think was saved just for me.

Several others sitting near me, who are at the end of their treatments, have offered helpful tips and tricks. Such as, there is a lovely enzime that comes in yogurt, can be purchased at any drug store in pill form, and will quickly end the enivitable stomach cramps.

So I've been told - I will start to feel sick in 3-5 days - but how sick will be up to my body. I certainly don't look forward to being sick, but maybe just 15 pounds sick would be OK.

Happy Birthday to Me! Happy Birthday to Monica!

Yes, today is my birthday. At 2:38pm (or thereabouts) I will be officially 39 years old. It is currently 8 am in the morning and I have already received several special gifts this morning.

Both of my kids gave me big hugs and kisses - one sang the birthday song to me - the other criticized my wording when forced to sing it to myself --- I'll leave it up to your imagination to pick which child did which.

Remember that other famous song that says "sugar makes the medicine go down in a most delightful way"? Well, evidentially, Dexamethason makes the chemo go down with less chance of an allergic reaction. So I just had my first dose with my morning coffee. The real ride is about to start. Yeah!

But, the most surprising gift of all should have come with a Surgeon General's Warning:

Beware: Contents under pressure - and when partially frozen - become even more unstable!

This past Saturday night, a few friends gathered here to hang out, eat ribs, drink (a lot - mostly thanks to Judy) of wine and celebrate that Monica and I would be gaining a year of living today. Monica and her hubby, Shawn, were nice enough to bring a bottle of champagne. Unfortunately, it went into the freezer to chill down faster... and it stayed there.

How much wine did we drink? Well, no one remembered to get the champagne to drink, or perhaps to make a toast with. And, as I crawled into bed in the wee hours of Sunday, lights out and trying to get warm under the covers - I remembered something about a bottle in the freezer. I dragged myself out of bed to come check on it - couldn't find it - thought "oh well" and went back to bed.

Follow me back to the present - 2 days after the party...

I am making a grocery list and go into the freezer to check on the quantity of frozen waffles and notice a small, frozen puddle of an almost clear liquid substance on something near the bottom. "THE CHAMPAGNE" hits my brain. (A rare moment of clarity without a full cup of coffee.) I dig and sure enough, there it is, just waiting to be rescued.

I pull it out and sit it on the kitchen counter while I finish my breakfast and list. But I start hearing this odd hissing noise. Nope, not the lawn guys next door, it's coming from the champagne bottle. The cap has released a bit and the contents would really like to get out. (Which should have been obvious after finding the puddle - but remember - not a full cup of coffee yet.) So I casually go over to the bottle and put it into the sink. Then, I remember how Kevin has taught me to open a champagne cork. 'They like to fly so hold tight and you can pull it out with a small pop and you don't break windows.' I must say, that part went well.

What I didn't expect was that the actual champagne smoothie would come exploding out like the frozen version of Mount Saint Helens! Have you ever seen a crime scene wall with mega blood splattered and dripping down? Turn that into my kitchen window and frozen champagne. Quite the early morning surprise!

So, Happy Birthday Monica - thanks for the gift. It won't be this year - it may not be next year - but some Feb. 19th in the future - I will get you back :)

Who wants a cocktail?

I talked to my doctor today. It is settled. I am taking the chemo "cocktail" that is not quite as bad for you long term, but seems to do just as good of a job eradicating cancer from the system as the current/previous regimen widely used.

I wanted to wait until after Valentine's Day, President's Day (the girls are out of school) and my birthday (the 19th) before I started my treatments. It seemed like the thing to do a couple of weeks ago. Now, the waiting seems to drag on.

However, I remember asking the nurse if it was OK to start treatments the morning after my birthday. I was talking big about having my last "who-rah!" before treatments. This isn't a direct quote - but the feeling I got from her response was:

'Honey, we're gonna spend 4 hours pumping 3 different types of poison directly into your blood stream that morning. Whether you go out drinking the night before or not won't mean a hill of beans.'

I didn't quite get it then, but the closer I get to the 20th, (dragging or not) the more these last few days of feeling good, and eating and drinking, are starting to mean.

My good friend Judy is making a birthday cake for me. She is one of the best amateur dessert chefs I know. (No pressure Judy!) And while I've naturally started to wean off the food and drink (mostly due to the fact that I can barely fit in my jeans), I'm having a hard time justifying a controlled attitude for the upcoming week.

My instinct screams "Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez" - - - but then my mind butts in to remind me, the alarm is still going off at 6:15 am to get the kids to school on time.

Maybe that's what they mean by "life goes on".

I'm gonna live!

Going to NY to get our second opinion was a good idea. The people at Sloan couldn't have been nicer. (I'm sure it helps that they've known my sister for 12 years.)And Dr. Seidman basically echoed every discussion we've had with my oncologist here in Atlanta, Dr. Mininberg.

(I've had an insider tell me that Dr. Mininberg has a great instinct about treatments, and usually his instincts prove correct in the end. We like to hear that. While most of this is medical knowledge, training and following research - it also appears that there is a good dose of instinct thrown into the mix - and that is something that can't be taught. As Kevin said, "Anyone can learn the keys of the piano and play songs - but that won't make you Chopin. That you have to be born with.")

Both doctors agree that I should take Herceptin - which is a very targeted drug for my type of tumors. There are 2 different chemotherapy regimens that are both valid choices for my situation. One doctor leans a bit toward one regimen - and the other leans a bit towards the other. So now we are working to weigh the pros and cons of each and make a decision that we feel good about. One treatment is a bit more proven, but it is more harsh on the body and may have some lingering heart implications.

The best thing is that now, both doctors, have stated that my chance of breast cancer recurrence is very low - under 20%. And once we pile on Herceptin and chemotherapy, the chances drop even lower - possibly to under 10%. (Here again is where the intuition plays a big part.)

My long term outcome looks great! I actually danced a little jig outside the building on Monday - then went directly for a beer. (Karen thinks they should have a camera outside the building to capture the range of emotions and reactions of people when they come out. Some people are devastated, some are elated - and a whole lot of in-betweens. With the crap reality shows of today's tv schedule, I say we pitch it! Maybe we can get Jerry Seinfeld to commentate.)

Despite the stress of what's coming at us in 2008, Kevin and I are now sleeping a bit better.

The nerves are starting to win

I'm sitting in Kevin's cousin's house on Long Island. Tomorrow, we go into NY and see Dr. Seidman. I'm crazy nervous. What's the expression? "Nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs..." That's me.

This is an important trip - tomorrow is an important meeting - and I feel under-prepared. It is crazy to feel like that, but I do. We've been reading - we've been organizing our questions. But what if we have missed something? We have 1 shot at a discussion with this doctor. I feel like I'm back at school, the night before a big exam. Am I really prepared?

And maybe I'm making my self crazy for nothing. So what if I think of another 3 questions on Wednesday. I will just ask my doctor at home. That will be fine. I like Dr. Mininberg and trust his answers also.

I don't know. The more I read and reasearch, the more overwhelmed and nervous I get. And certainly, each day, as the first of the chemotherapy treatments get closer, I get more and more nervous. I use the wrong words for things, I can't spell anymore and am just generally distracted and foggy in my head.

Oh well. It is what it is. I'm going into the other room to drink a few beers and watch the SuperBowl. Maybe that will help pass a few hours.

Head Wraps & Bandanas

It is amazing the vast array of head wraps and bandanas available for order off of the internet. I have found everything from what makes me look like a pilgrim to extremely offensive prints. Here are a few of my favorites, that I did NOT order.





Of course, in the world of customizations, I can even get my very own "arf is bald" bandana. I'm taking suggestions for the best tag line and/or graphic for a custom bandana :)

The "Cancer Cloud"

I feel like Pigpen with his dust cloud - except mine is the cancer cloud - it follows me everywhere and puts a shadow on everything. ( I wish it was just dust, that I could wash off, now that I can take showers again )

Unless something major happens when we get our second opinion, I will be starting my chemotherapy treatments in about 3 weeks. I'm already working to schedule the baseline test for my heart and the first chemo session. It takes longer than the rest. They put the drugs in very slow to see if you have an allergic reaction. I'm very thankful that Kevin will be going with me for this. I'm kinda scared.

But between now and then, I have a ton of things to do. Normally, you would think that would help me keep my mind off what is coming. But I can't shake the ever-looming cancer cloud for more than a few minutes at a time.

Today, I am working with our financial guy to put us on a budget. Great idea, glad we're doing it, should have done it years ago -- (cloud) even with insurance, we've got a pile of medical bills and I'll be working less hours.

This weekend we will be going to New York. We will stay with Kevin's cousin. Eat good food, visit with good people, maybe hit a museum or an art gallery, watch the NY Giants in the SuperBowl, in NY, with a bunch of Giant's fans -- and (cloud) spend Monday at Memorial Sloan Kettering discussing my treatment options.

3 weeks from today is my birthday. Yippie! Good food and wine with family and friends. Tuesday is birthday fun --(BIG cloud) Wednesday I go to the hospital to get poison dripped into my body.

Even cleaning the house isn't cloud free. The 'nesting instinct' before having a baby is nothing compared to 'nesting panic' when you are facing 6 months of potential chemo side effects. I am in a mad rush to get my spring cleaning done. I am rummaging through the closets to gather up clothes and shoes that are too small, and toys no longer loved that are just taking up space. I am attacking mini projects that are 1 step away from being finished and off the list. Yikes!

And certainly, when I run into a neighbor in the street or talk to a friend on the phone - the "Hello, how are you" isn't just a friendly greeting anymore -- (here comes the cloud) the tone in their voice is a reminder that they know what is going on and they are concerned about me. It is very comforting and appreciated - but still a reminder.

A silver lining to the cancer cloud??? Maybe each one of us can learn to put that same care into our voice with every "Hello, how are you". We should let our family, friends and neighbors know that we truly care about what is going on in their life all of the time, not just when adversity has struck.

Have a great day everyone!

Medical Update

We met with my oncologist the other day. The high points of my final pathology report from my surgery show that my tumor cells are very affected by certain hormones in my body and the cells grow on the aggressive end of the scale.

Because the pathology of my mastectomy 3 years ago showed only DCIS (cancer cells trapped inside the ductal walls) with no infiltration into the actual breast tissue – he believes this tumor was a new primary that came from the microscopic breast cells left behind in the skin.

And even though all 14 lymph nodes that were just removed were “clear”, the pathologist and my oncologist believe that there has probably been the beginnings of the cancer spreading into the lymphatic system, but just not large enough to detect yet.

The treatment recommendation for me is:

Taxotere and Carboplatin (the chemo "cocktail") for 18 weeks at 3 week intervals.

Herceptin weekly while getting chemo treatments, then down to every 3 weeks until we’ve completed 1 year of treatment.

Since the Herceptin has potential cardiac side effects, I will get a screening before treatments begin, then again at 3 months, 6 months, 12 months and 18 months. If they suspect any issues with my heart, they stop the Herceptin treatments temporarily, do some more testing, then try to start them again.

After all of that is finished, I will have some radiation treatments to the under arm area on the right side.

After chemo and radiation treatments, it is suggested that I need to either get monthly shots to shut down my ovaries and end the estrogen in my system – or just get them removed (my choice). However, before we schedule the surgery, my Dr. thinks I should get the genetic testing done to see where I fall in the BRCA rankings – so we know whether to also remove the uterus. (Boy the fun just doesn’t stop, does it?)

On Feb. 4th, we will meet with my sister's oncologist in NY. I really hope that he will agree that this is the correct course of action. If he doesn’t I’m really going to be sad, frustrated, confused, etc…

******

If you are interested in reading further about the drugs they are about to start pumping into my body - check out these 3 links. They aren't too long, not overly technical and have an interesting section at the bottom that explains how the drugs work in the body.



http://www.chemocare.com/bio/taxotere.asp
http://www.chemocare.com/bio/carboplatin.asp
http://www.chemocare.com/bio/herceptin.asp

Taking off the "Super-Mom" cape is hard

Here it was - my perfect excuse to get a few days of rest - and I blew it.

I've joked about it before. How I'd trade having to go through something horrible so I could have an excuse to sit on the couch for days - taking naps - watching too much t.v. - catching up on all of the books that I never have time to read - eating bonbons - and telling the job, family and friends: "Sorry, I'd love to help you with that, but I just had (insert excuse here) and I just can't do that right now. I need my rest."

So, last Friday morning, I go in for surgery and I have to spend the night at the hospital. When I come home Saturday afternoon, I'm sore and tired, but not feeling too bad - thanks to the wonder drugs. The weekend is nice - Kevin is around to help out with things and to keep me in check.

Here comes THE week. The one I've dreamed about. The kids are off to school. The husband is off to work. I have the house to myself to recuperate. Do I? Of course not! Because I'm 1) a person on pain killers which allows me to ignore what my body just went thru and push on; 2) a Super-Mom with no "off" button; 3) a dumbo; 4) all of the above.

Yes, #4 is correct.

In my earlier dreams of being on the couch for "THE" week, I obviously hadn't placed the couch in reality. That's why it's a dream. I could have still chosen to sit on the couch for "THE" week - and looking back, I really should have done more of it - but (and it's a big but - and we're good at those in my family) that couch is still physically located inside my house and inside my life where everything else is still whirling at top speed.

This week brought: a child's school conference, several doctors appointments, a flat tire and sitting at the repair place dealing with idiots that don't actually move to fix your flat tire until you break down into tears, homework and other after school activities, hundreds of phone calls - many to/from doctors offices about past and upcoming treatments, family members announcing a divorce, friends struggling with issues in their lives, my sister's family who's been battling loss of internet and Comcast for months, my daughter's 5th birthday, normal work demands, etc. At least for me, none of these things can easily be ignored or put off - despite the fact that so many wonderful people have offered help.

Let me relate it to being a major league player at batting practice before the game. Thousands of kids are lined up waiting to watch you hit them outta the park over and over. And the pitcher keeps throwing balls at you. And yet, you've been told to just stand there, holding your bat and relax and let them fly by you and collect in a big puddle behind you without even a swing. Ignore the disappointment in your own self and the kids watching.

Being the Super-Mom after all - my batting average in life is usually pretty good. At least when a ball (ball: noun: item on the never ending to do list) gets past me, I've attempted to hit it.

So while I know that I should rest, sit on the couch and let people do things for me - life is still coming at me full speed. I really don't feel that bad. I know that I will soon enough and will really need the help then. Some things are easier to take care of myself than explaining to others what needs to be done. I can't say no and hate to let others down. And mostly, I HATE feeling helpless and like a patient.

Yesterday, a good friend stopped in to give me a shoulder, arm and foot massage. He refered to me as a control freak - because I struggle so much to relax and just let him control my head and my arms. Wow! I've never thought of myself as a control freak. But I guess that plays into the whole Super-Mom syndrome. And looking back at this week really puts it into perspective.

I fell asleep on Caitlyn's floor last night at 8:00pm while Kevin was getting the girls ready for bed. He stopped messing with them to help me to bed. I fell asleep in my bed listening to him read them bed time stories. It's official. I try to do too much. I need to let go and let others help me.

It will be a struggle for me, but at least for a little while, the Super-Mom cape has been hung up in the closet.

I Stink

Have you ever gotten to that point where you can smell your own smell? Admit it, everyone has been in this position before. (And I don't mean because you spilled while opening the perfume bottle, were doused in what used to be your favorite scent, and it took you weeks to get the smell out of your nose.)

You get a whiff of yourself and think, "If I can smell my own stink, certainly everyone else could hours or even days ago and they just are being too polite to say so."

Well, I'm at that point. I stink.

Don't get me wrong, I've sat in the bath tub several times since I got home on Saturday. I've (we've) sponged off the important places. I've (we've) flipped my head over the side of the tub and given the hair a wash. And yet, I still stink.

The last REAL shower/cleansing was last Friday morning at 6:15 am. It is now Wednesday morning at 10:20 am. That shower of 5 1/2 days ago is L-O-N-G gone.

Did I mention that the surgery was to remove the "fat pad" under my right arm. See all of those stitches in my arm pit? Those stitches can't get wet. You know what that means... My right arm pit has not been cleaned in 5 1/2 days! Yucko!

It is now "painfully" obvious that while a tumor, lymph nodes and a fat pad came out of my arm pit - sweat (read stink) glands did not. They have recovered quite nicely from the anesthesia and surgery and are working "as expected". I'm so happy for them :)

Today, I'm going to see my surgeon. I've heard tale of a plastic device with adhesive that you can put over a surgical site so you may attempt a shower without getting your stitches wet. They don't really want to give them to you unless you are desperate. I'm prepared to walk in this morning and announce, "I'M DESPERATE!"

But wait... won't it just cover up my stink glands so that they don't get washed... yet again? Crap!

I guess for now, there is only one thing left to say, "I apologize to anyone and everyone who comes in contact with my aroma over the next few days."

A silver lining brain fade

I am generally a “Silver Lining” person. So, for this discussion, we are going to ignore all of the "I'm going to die" thoughts that have been sliding thru my brain in the past few weeks.

Since I had the distinct pleasure of knowing the general outline of my upcoming treatments about 2 weeks before Christmas - I figured I had carte blanche to eat and drink what I wanted during the holidays and not worry about it. In the early spring I would be doing "Chemo - The Wonder Diet!" and the weight would drop off of me.

1 minor issue – I forgot the logistics of having surgery first. That means I had to get naked and wear a hospital gown. I had to be fat and naked in front of the world! Then, to compound the embarrassment, I had to come home and ask my husband to help me with a sponge bath.

Now, generally, men could care less about the 10-20 pound weight fluctuations we go thru because they see us naked just before sex in bad lighting. And which brain are they working with at the time? Exactly.

However, when the kind, sincere, “I love you, honey and I’m so sorry you are going thru this” part of the brain is functioning and then you have to get naked and you are 20 pounds more than you should be in the sun-bright lights of the bathroom - - - MAJOR GUILT!!!

Oh well, too late now.

Oncology Appointment

Last Thursday, I had an appointment with the oncologist. He looked only slightly taken aback when he opened the door to see me, a bit wider to see Kevin, and finally as he steps in and sees Karen. 1 vs. 3.

But realistically, we had a good discussion. Once we get back the pathology of the chunks they just took out, we have a few choices of chemo treatments to choose from. Looks like I'll be starting treatments in about 3 weeks and they will most likely run me thru mid June. It's gonna be a L-O-N-G spring.

The only thing that Karen is still a bit concerned about is my ovaries. She thinks I must have them out. I tend to agree and think it makes the most logical sense for many reasons. But my Dr. said that we don't need to worry about it right now, and would talk about it after surgery and the chemo treatments are coming to a close.

By some minor miracle, Karen has secured me an appointment with her much-loved oncologist at Sloan-Kettering, in NY, for Monday Feb. 4th. A second opinion is never a bad idea - especially when it might come with a weekend of good food and shows in the city. But who knows...

Dinner of Champions - Pizza and Morphine!

Well, the surgery is done. I'm feeling OK - just a little beat up. Kevin is off picking up a Mellow Mushroom pizza for dinner. The nurse just shot me up with morphine. Life is good.

P.S. I will post an update on my oncology appt from yesterday later. For now, I will just say that there were no major surprises.

The Roller Coaster Effect

Yesterday, as the bone scan was ending, I asked to see the pictures. I rarely admit to being a geek, but I guess I am. All of this technology is pretty cool. But, of course, I was also impatient and wanted to see for myself, right away, if I could see anything abnormal on the pictures.

After the initial shock of how wide my hips looked in the picture, my sister and I both noted quickly the 2 glowing spots on my chest. There is an off hand remark about that being my tumor on the right side of the body - and the technician says "No, that's the left side of the body." My sister and I look at each other with dread. Oh crap!

The tech tries to tell us that it is probably nothing - "See, it isn't on the ribs or any other bone." All my brain is hearing is "Crap, crap, crap!" He checks with the guy who actually reads the scans and, no big surprise, he wants another close up of the left chest area.

Kevin happens to call Karen during this time frame - and she tells him about the spots on the left. But she tries to calm him with her own story of a spot they found on her pelvis during one of these years ago. They made her do all sorts of extra testing (and panic), only to realize that it was probably some bone abnormality that had been there from birth. My brain is still only saying "Crap, crap, crap!"

After a few minutes, the tech walks in - almost laughing "You are fine! Did you get your injection of the radioactive isotopes in your left arm?" Yes. "Did you take your sweater off and on since then?" Yes. "Then you probably just got a few of the isotopes on the outside of your sweater, come look."

We go back to the computer screen, and there is the outline curve of my breast with 2 glowing spots hovering above it. "See, on the outside - on the sweater - you are fine."

Panic attack over. Stop the ride, I want to get off.

Clean Scans - Yeah!

My scans showed nothing!!! No spread!!!

LOVE my surgeon. He called last night at 9:30pm to let me know all was clear. I actually slept well (the margaritas helped) and woke up with a clear head. I feel like my mind has been in a fog for several weeks and it has certainly lifted. The not knowing is the worst part. Now we mostly know what we are dealing with and we can attack it.

Scan Day

OK - Don't EVER look at the pictures from your bone scan. Just let the doctors tell you what is says over the phone. While it takes great pictures of your bones, it adds about 10 inches to your hips! Wow! If I ever needed some incentive to start exercising again, I got it today.

Now down to business... We don't have the official word yet, but (other than the hip incident) the bone scan looked clear. As far as the CT scan goes - dunno.

Drinking the Barium solution for the CT scan was Super Nasty. And the lady told me that the stuff they injected into me for the bone scan does make me slightly radio-active, so I probably don't want to hug my kids tightly or for a long time before tomorrow when it is out of my system.

It's official - I will be doing some level of chemo. We'll know more after the pathology results from what they take out on Friday.

For now, I need to drink as much liquid as I can to flush all of the contrast dye and radio-active stuff out of my system - so I'm going to fill up my water glass again and head off for a dinner and a margarita (or two).

P.S. Big thanks go out to my sisters Iris and Karen who took turns sitting with me, all day at the hospital, last Wed and today, while I got scanned -- and spend many more hours surfing the internet and coming up with good questions for the doctors. Of course, Kevin who keeps working to pay the doctor bills, and calls for continuous updates. And all of my family and friends that send good thoughts my way.

MRI Results

Left breast - OK - just like last time
Right breast - spot we knew about and 2 lymph nodes underneath that appear inflamed - so most likely infected.

My surgeon, is planning on removing the entire fat pad under my right arm on Friday. That will include the bad spot and all lymph nodes. While that will leave me with the possibility of lymphedema later on, it seems like the best idea right now as far as getting rid of the cancer cells. That may change slightly with the results of the other tests I'm having tomorrow, and when the surgeon talks to the oncologist - but we won't know that until later in the week.

Tomorrow is the CT scan and the bone scan. Yikes! I'm nervous and anxious to get it over with. Can't wait for my margarita tomorrow night at Stammtish!

Breast Cancer 2008

OK - So, I found a new lump sometime around the beginning of November. We shrugged it off as scar tissue. However, after seeing my ob/gyn for my annual in November, he thought I should go ahead and see the surgeon. I already had an appt for January, but made another one at the urging of my in-laws.

I really didn't want to know before Christmas - I really wanted to wait - but it seemed silly to wait - it wasn't going to be anything more than scar tissue anyway. But no... the biopsy said cancer. CRAP!!!

So, last week I had an MRI to determine if there are any more spots in the breast area. I don't know yet, but hope to find out tomorrow. One thing I did learn was that the contrast dye that they shoot into you for the MRI can cause joint pain. Man, the joints in my fingers the next morning felt like they were 150 years old - but it has slowly subsided over the last few days.

On Tuesday, I will have a bone scan and a CT scan. Those will let us know if the cancer has spread further. If that is the case - I will not be held responsible for using 4 letter words in my posting.

Anyway, it is time for an awesome leg of lamb dinner over at Judy's house. My glass of wine is calling me. I'll post again tomorrow and let you all know about my great golf game of today!

Happy New Year - It's 2008!

THE GOOD...

We had a wonderful Christmas. The girls got a ton a cool gifts, but the "biggie" was the go-kart. We only got a few rides in before the rains came, which was a bummer. And it rained for days - but who's complaining after the drought we've had. (I woulda bought it sooner if I knew it could create atmospheric changes!)

Anyway, here we are buzzing right along into 2008. We've had Kevin's birthday and are about to have Caitlyn's. For her birthday this year, we are heading down to see the Monster Trucks at the Georgia Dome. Yippie! My daughter, the 5 year old tom-boy red-neck!

THE BAD, and THE UGLY...

I have just been re-diagnosed with breast cancer. So, this year will probably be quite a roller coaster ride for us. And while I'm blessed to have a ton of family and friends that care about me, I am not anxious to repeat the outcome of each doctors visit a thousand times on the phone and each time I run into someone around the 'hood. Being a mini-techno-geek, I figured that creating a blog to help keep everyone on top of what's going on with me and the Farmer family would be the best solution. (But of course, anyone that knows me, will know that I'll still probably talk about this constantly anyway. I'll try to keep the complaining to a minimum.)

THE PROMISE...

I've named this blog "Bippity Boppity Boob" since that was the name of our 3-Day walking team from 2006. I loved that experience and was very proud that we raised over $45,ooo to fight breast cancer. This 2nd diagnosis has instilled in me an ever more urgent need to keep doing whatever I can, each year, until I don't have to worry about Kinsey and Caitlyn going thru this some day. I don't know where I'm going with this yet, but being as I have many sleepless nights ahead of me, I'm sure I will figure something out.

AND NOW...

I've got to go be a Mom and make breakfast. Until next time...