Bargaining

I’ve scheduled my next breast upgrade.  I’m still unsure about it, but I meet with Dr. D next Wednesday, so hopefully it will bring some clarity to my situation.  I’ve had some restlessness lately about my breasts.  I decided last week that my breasts should look better than they do and I went to meet with another plastic surgeon here in Kalamazoo.  I just wanted a second opinion.  He had a few hopeful things to say but mostly it was the same.  I think the bottom line is that I had inflammatory breast cancer, massive amounts of radiation over a large area and there isn’t a lot of hope I can look better, at least with my clothes off.  Which really doesn’t matter to anybody but Jeremy, and to be honest, it doesn’t matter to him.  But it matters to me, so I continue to push back on the issue and hopefully one day those plastic surgeons will come up with a miraculous way to make my breasts look perfectly normal. 

So the second opinion……

There are two reasons I sought a second opinion.  None of which had anything to do with my dear plastic surgeon over in Chicago.  The first reason has to do with nothing more than total envy.  Last month our “Partners in Pink” support group started (BTW….it meets again tomorrow) and after the meeting we were doing show and tell in the bathroom.  Don’t worry, this is not required, but a few of us hadn’t seen each other in a while…..since reconstruction…..and we like to show-and-tell.  I’m telling you….once you’ve had breast cancer you are so used to going topless it is NOTHING NEW to show just about anyone who remotely wants to see.   So at show and tell, one of my dear friends looked absolutely fabulous.  I won’t give her name out of respect for her new beautiful bosoms, but they were perfect.  I’m telling you……they looked real, felt real, and were totally perfect minus the nipples.  I thought….wow….I need to find her doctor.  I was so envious of her breasts!  I wanted a pair of my own….lol!  But when I went to visit her doctor, he told me about the same thing.  And again…..I have to throw up my hands and say “why, why inflammatory!”  I get angry again…..why couldn’t I have had a normal breast cancer where I could have had skin sparing?  Ughhhh!

The second reason I sought a second opinion is because I do believe I am in the bargaining stage of grief right now.  I think you’ve heard me talk about the stages of grief before. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.  What you may not realize, that I have come to realize about this process, is that every time something happens on this cancer journey, I get to travel through this path over and over again.  When I was diagnosed, when I was disfigured through mastectomies, when I went through radiation, and when I was reconstructed.  It’s all about grief and loss and acceptance, and I get to travel this path every time the doctors do something new.  So here’s what I think.  I think that somehow I came ROARING into the bargaining stage last week.  Because I got a second opinion and then tried to bargain with my plastic surgeon.  I’m still TRYING to get someone to promise me my old breasts but IT IS NOT WORKING! 

So there’s the honest answer about where I am with my breasts right now.  Still hoping they can make them look and feel better, but trying to accept what may never be.

Red Shoes

I dated a lot when I was younger.  Of course, if you wait till you’re 27 to get married like I did, you’re bound to have a few dates.  I went through a lot of frogs before I found my prince charming.  And when I found Jeremy, or he found me as I’d like to think, he was quite a bit younger than me.  I like to say he’s three years younger than me but for 6 months of the year it sounds like he’s 4 years younger than me.  I know, it sounds horrible doesn’t it.  I was a senior in high school when he was in eighth grade. 

Here are some things he likes to tease me about.  And I say tease, because it was our deal when I agreed to marry him that he would never ever, under no circumstances tease me about being older than him…..and well, that did me a lot of good now didn’t it!  He teases me all the time.  So one thing that happens quite often in the car is that we’ll hear a song I loved in middle school, and I’ll say “oh I love this song” and I’ll turn it up and then I’ll turn to him and he’ll have this blank stare on his face, like “I’ve never heard this song?”  And this is because he was in first grade and WHO REALLY REMEMBERS ANYTHING ON THE RADIO IN FIRST GRADE!  And I’ll be reminded of how old I am.  The second thing that COULD happen is that he has heard of the song because of some retro station from the 80’s or because he just knows more music than I do.  But anyway, music can say a lot about your age.  And the other thing that happens is that I will have some memory of being some place and I’ll say “when have we been here before?” or “why do I remember this?”  And he’ll groan and say…..”Jen, that was with XYZ boyfriend!”  And we’ll both laugh because we both know that I dated a lot, especially for some reason in my 20’s…..I suppose I was trying to narrow in on the kill, but still, he thinks it’s funny.  Partially because sometimes I say “oh, I went here with so-in-so.”  Or something to that effect.  Jeremy didn’t date as much, although he had a lot of “girl” friends…..you know…..or so he likes to say. 

This is going someplace, I promise.  So I dated a lot in my 20’s.  And here’s maybe the reason why I dated so much.  I was in my 20’s when I was in seminary (Jeremy is not a pastor nor did he go to seminary in case you were wondering), and I was a single woman on a campus with a 3 to 1 ratio of men versus women.  Need I say more.  There were lots of men to choose from and not so many women.  And a good portion of those women were second degree students who were coming back to school as older adults.  And a good portion of the men were younger and out of college.  So if you were remotely attractive, you were KNOWN on campus.  And because every man knows he needs a wife to be in ministry…..I mean who else is going to play the piano for you if you get placed in an old country church…..lol….and be the part-time church secretary.  OK…I’m totally stereotyping here, but unfortunately that is the way it WAS for a long time.  Thankfully not so much anymore.

So one day I hear word that a “Beeson Pastor” has been asking around about me.  It’s a small campus and a friend of mine was a Beeson pastor.  Now a Beeson pastor was an elite group of 20 pastors on campus that were invited to come and get their doctorate in a one-year type program.  They were paid, given an apartment, and flown all over the world to see churches that were pace-setters, so-to-speak.  So this guy just happened to be single, and seeing that he was a Beeson pastor, and decent looking, I gave word back that I MIGHT be interested.  You have to play cool ya’know!  So he calls me and we went on a date.  For about a month, things seemed to progress.  He seemed like a really nice guy.  Then all of a sudden, I quit hearing from him.  I think maybe I saw him around campus a bit and he just seemed to be aloof.  At first I was sad.  I moped around for a few days.  I ate ice cream and didn’t care what I looked like.  But after a few days I picked up the pieces of my semi-broken heart and got back in to living.  In fact, for several days I purposely thought…..this man is NOT going to see me looking bad and I did my hair extra well, and dressed up.  I not only looked better, but I felt better. 

And so it is with cancer.  I am putting cancer behind me.  I’ve been looking good and feeling good.  I dress up and do my hair because I can.  I have hair and I have the energy to do it.  I have a pair of red shoes that I love to wear.  I have enough black and grey in my closet to last me a week, I live in neutrals, but lately I’ve been wearing my red shoes a bit more.  I even bought some red lipstick.  I’m feeling more bold.  I’m feeling more courageous.  I’m not as scared that cancer’s going to sneak up on me.  I like my new breasts.  I feel like I am beginning to resemble the woman I looked like prior to cancer….something I wondered might never happen.  I’m feeling strong enough to pursue what it might mean to make myself feel whole again (I’m talking my breasts here and future surgeries to improve my breasts).  Those red shoes represent strength and courage and my ability to recover.  They remind me that I am no longer the wall-flower that I wanted to be when I didn’t have hair and wanted to sink in to the floor every time someone looked at me longer than 2 seconds.

I don’t know where you are in the process.  Cancer is an awful diagnosis.  I can’t promise that you will ever feel completely whole again.  I can’t promise that you can or will move on.  But I hope that at some point you will.  I hope at some point you can pull out those red shoes and stand tall and strong.  I’m amazed that I can, but I am!

Healthy and Happy

Life is normal.  Everything is normal.  I eat.  I sleep.  I feed the kids.  I water the kids.  They grow.  I study.  I work.  And life goes on.  This is good.  This is very good.

I’m enjoying my kids.  Although, I have an (almost) three-year old little boy, and this makes life rather challenging.  I was at the family doctor the other day and I had Elijah busy with my iphone playing games through most of the visit, but at the very end, my lovely little boy got bored and started throwing a very monstrous fit about something (there are so many these days I can’t remember why he throws them anymore).  The doctor, who is very cool and very patient with all my kids, looks at him for a few seconds and says…….”Yup, there’s that testosterone kick’in in.”  So he’s a bundle of energy.  And thanks to my class (I’m taking Lifespan and Development) I’m reminded that at age three a child will be busier than any other point in their life.  So we’re just holding on for the ride right now and we’ll weather the three-year-old storm.  At least I think we’ll make it…..well, at least Elijah will make it.  He may leave a mess in his path, a little hair in his chubby little hands from his sisters maybe, a tidal wave from the tub, but we’ll get through somehow…..lol.

So I’m doing well.  I’m taking a class finally.  And I’m doing pretty well.  Even my teacher has told me I’m doing well.  I think she wants to encourage me…..here I am, 37 year old woman, three kids, recent cancer survivor, pastor…..I’d be encouraging me too….lol! 

I’ve lost the weight I gained from radiation.  I know, don’t ask me why I ballooned during radiation, but I did.  I gained 20 pounds.  All I can theorize is that I was so tired that my body slowed down.  I was completely opposite with the weight gain/loss expectations.  I think you’re supposed to gain in chemo and lose in radiation.  I did the opposite.  I lost in chemo and gained in radiation.  Now, it would have been nice to have been the other way around because then the losing would have been last.  But no,of course not, that would be too easy.  But after some diligence and some pavement pounding, I am almost back to pre-radiation and pre-baby weight. 

I’ve been running.  I ran a 5K race last weekend at my college reunion.  It was just a fun run, but I ran it in under 30 minutes which was a nice little achievement for me.  That, and I didn’t walk.  It’s always good to run the entire race when you actually set out to do so.  And I did.  And I’m relieved, because it would have been really embarassing to have to walk during a race at your 15 year college reunion (especially when I ran cross country for 4 years in college!)

I love my job.  I love the people I work with.  I love being in ministry.  I love praying with people and for people.  I love the care aspects of ministry.  I like planning new ministries.

I like my new breasts.  It’s taken a while, but I finally feel like they are either adjusting to me or I am adjusting to them.  It took us a while to get aquanted, but now I think I like them.  I’m going to let them stay.  I can see the scars lightening.  Post-digger is relaxing a bit so things are evening up.  I’m heading back to see Dr. D in November.  I’m still undecided about implants.  But if you asked me today I would say “I’m doing it.”  The problem is, that tomorrow might be different.  And until I can feel really sure about it, I’m going to wait.  So when I go back for my visit I’m going with a boat-load of questions to ask him. 

And finally, I love not having doctor appointments.  My next appointment (besides seeing Dr. Plastic) is an actual physical in December.  I haven’t had a physical in 2 years since life has revolved around only cancer. 

It’s good to be healthy.

Mini-Vacation to Middle Earth

After a tough week Jeremy and I got to escape. Not to Middle Earth or Snow White’s house as the pictures might lead you to believe. We were actually in Charlevoix, Michigan for a staff retreat. Besides a lot of laughter, good food and great fellowship, we got to walk on the beach and look at these adorable, fable-ish little homes designed by architect Earl Young. If you’re ever in northwest Michigan it’s worth the trip. Such a cute town too.

Whew!

Well. What a freak’in relief. Seriously. I feel like someone just lifted a mac truck off my shoulders.

So the official report is that the cyst they saw is benign. But I have necrotic fat above my new right foob which is probably the tenderness. This is because to give my foob good projection (don’t you love it….this really is a technical term) Dr. D had to stuff some fat up there. So I’m sending the MRI on to him and he’ll tell me what to do. Hopefully it will heal up on it’s own. The thought of opening up for another wound healing does not excite me. But actully….who knew I’d be happy to only be dealing with some fat that won’t cooperate. And hey…. When does fat really ever cooperate? It wasn’t cooperating when it was in my belly so why would I think it would in my new boobs…..lol!

Thanks so much for all the kind words and facebook messages. It really is so nice to share quickly through Twitter or blogging. I want my friends to know so they can pray but I don’t especially want to talk about it because then I start to get stressed. It’s best to keep your mind on other things when waiting for test results:)

I am so blessed by your support, encouragement and prayers.

What if….then.

It’s hard for me not to worry about this whole wierd ultrasound thing.   recurrence is always something in the back of any cancer patients mind.  I remember thinking that when I finished radiation I could move on with my life.  But then I went through reconstruction.  And then I had a 24 hour scare when I thought my platelets were seriously low, and it ended up being a false alarm.  And here I am again today, waiting.  Waiting to hear the results and wondering which path my life will take tomorrow.  Because seriously, if cancer is back, I have to head down a whole different path again.  And it’s that path that has me worried.  Because it’s really not the path I want to take.  I am realizing that as a cancer survivor there really is never a complete “moving on” point.  You will always have hang-ups.  You will always haves scares.  You will always wonder about any discomfort, and when it lingers more than a couple days you will probably start to get nervous.  So here I am this weekend and I’ve been deciding whether I want to panic or stay calm.  One moment I feel pretty good.   I feel absolutely certain they are seeing scar tissue and nothing more.  And then the next minute I’m sure the cancer is back and I dread what that will mean for me and my family. 

So this weekend I’ve been thinking about the “what-if’s” again.  What if my cancer does come back.  Here is what I’ve come up with:

What if cancer comes back?  Then…

1.  I will cry, and kick and scream and be angry.

2.  And then I will go into some form of shock for a while.  This happened first time around.

3.  Then I will go in to some form of depression probably.  Because this is what happened before as well.  I felt defeated.  Chances are, I will again.

4.  Then people will support me and encourage me and remind me that I am loved and I am worth fighting for.

5.  Then I will probably cry a little more.

6.  Then I will look into the eyes of my sweet children and remember they are worth fighting for.

7.  Then I will get off my a__ and start reading about recurrence and where to get the best treatment, and what to eat and if there are any natural things I can do to help.  I will once again immerse myself in cancer.

8.  Then I will get in gear and go see the right doctors again.  I will seek second and third opinions.

9.  Then I will once again cry, because I do cry a lot. 

10.  Then I will plan treatment with my doctors.

11.  Then I will start treatment and face losing my hair or burning my skin in order to get better.

12.  And I will cry again because loosing hair for a second time when it was crappy the first time will be very hard.

13.  Then I will rely on my friends and family to help me once again…..and they will….and this will bring me great comfort.

14.  Then, along the way I will be reminded of some of the promises that God has given me.  Here is one I have been reading this weekend thanks to Matthew’s account of what Jesus said:

“So have no fear of them, for nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. ²⁷What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. ²⁸And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. ²⁹Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. ³⁰But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. ³² So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, ³³but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.

That middle verse has just stood out to me over the last day.  Cancer cannot kill my spirit.  So what if the answer is “yes, it’s come back?”  Well, then I’ll deal with it.  But the bottom line is, that it CANNOT have my spirit.  Someone else has that and His promises far outweigh the promises of cancer.

Interrupted

Cancer is really like having a conversation with one of those really anti-social people who dominate the conversation all the time.  Like the people who only talk about themselves and never let you talk.  Or when you do talk they cut you off.   Sometimes it’s so obnoxious that all you can do is stand there in sheer bewilderment because you just can’t believe they don’t get it.

My life has just been getting back to normal lately.  I started working again this summer.  I decided to quit talking about taking a class towards my long-term goal of becoming a midwife and actually doing it.  My children are keeping me busy.  Meleah, my middle child, turned five on Thursday.  And like all children’s birthdays, we celebrated once on her birthday and then we threw a shin-dig on Friday night.  On Thursday I also got a call that they had an opening for me to get my ultrasound done with Dr. Jacobs.  Take note:  It’s never a good idea to have scans done on important days.  Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day.  These are all off-limits for scanning.  They really should just shut the scanning machines down on days like Valentine’s Day because it really isn’t fair for anyone to find out they have something suspicious on a day like Valentine’s Day, ya know.   Seriously.

So here’s why cancer is like an anti-social interrupter.  Because when they looked at my scan, they didn’t like what they saw.  They actually weren’t totally clear on what they were seeing.  And they were honest, they don’t see a lot of post-diep patients in Kalamazoo.  They see a lot of implants, but not a lot of diep.  But something looked weird, and weird enough to say “let’s do an MRI.”  So I get this dang interruption on my daughter’s 5th birthday.  And when I get home, what I really want to do is go hide under the covers of my bed and have a good cry, but instead I get to put a smile on my face and celebrate her birthday.  And today I went to my first class and tried really hard to listen to the topic and not think about my interruption, and this afternoon I ran around like crazy getting ready for the party and I’ve decided that in order to truly get your mind of something you must remain very, very (did I say very) busy.  And surprisingly enough, I did forget my interruption tonight at the party and had a very good time celebrating Meleah’s birthday with friends. 

But now the house is quiet.  I am dreading my MRI scheduled for 6 am tomorrow morning.  I can’t sleep and I find this strangely familiar to the blogging in the middle of the night I did in my early diagnosis when I couldn’t sleep.   And to be completely honest, I’m angry about this interruption.  I really want to scream obscenities at this cancer interruption.  I want to stop the madness of the interruptions so I can be completely given over to things like my daughters 5th birthday because this was afterall her day, her special day,  and dang it cancer, you weaseled yourself in once again.

Lumps and Bumps

So I went to see my oncologist today.  I’ve been feeling a bit tender under my armpit and above my right foob.  So the lumpy bumps we felt both above and then right below where digger (my post surgical wound as you may recall) was, are probably hardened pieces of fat, to put it…um…nicely, since they moved my fat north to make breasts for me.  But we’re going to do some ultrasounds just to be certain.  I’m really not worried.  But I suppose worried enough to make it public and ask for a quick prayer if you think about it.  I’m guessing this is just a day in the life of being a survivor.

Here’s what is amusing (mildly) to me is the my ob/gyn office ( the one that put me off when I had IBC and an ovarian cyst), had once again put me off for 6 weeks when I called a week ago for my ob/gyn to look at my new lumpy bumps in my chest.  What!  With my IBC history!  Anyway.  This confirms my theory that receptionists ARE NOT DOCTORS as they would sometimes like to think.  Sorry if you are a medical receptionist, but I struggle with this one.  And just for the record, I have seen my ob/gyn because I pushed and left a message directly for her.  And now I have seen my oncologist.  Nothing like a little overkill, but I just want to make sure that the tenderness and the lumpy bumps really are nothing. 

And, one more thing.  Both doctors said, “Jen, always try to talk directly to me and I will get you in.”  So ladies (and gentlemen, if you read my blog…..lol), advocate for yourself and do not give up if you think something is wrong!

Ok, coming down from my little soap box now…..

Decisions

Most women are pretty critical of their bodies.  We complain about our hips or our nose or our saggy breasts.  Then someone goes to take our breasts away and we cry and scream in our pillows for the flawed breasts we once had.  I wish I was the woman who said “good-riddance” and never looked back, but I’m not.  I still cry for my saggy, imperfect mammary glands that seemed so flawed at one time and now seem as majestic as the seven wonders of the world (minus the cancer that then overcame them).

But since I can’t have my God-made wonders back, I am going to settle for man-made.  I have to, what other option do I have other than nothing? 

The creator of my man-made wonders, my ever so kind plastic surgeon sat with me as I complained yesterday.  Which I feel a bit bad about now since these are his creations.  But he took it all well.  We revisited the fact that I had inflammatory breast cancer, which in the end caused him to tell me that he would not do fat transfer on me.  I’m still coming to terms with this since I really (really!) like the idea of moving fat from somewhere else to fill in the new breasts and their flaws and the indentation caused by digger.  But he won’t.  He was nice about it, and he gave a pretty good reason and that is, because I’ve had IBC, if I did have a reccurence it would probably effect my skin, and having extra fat in that area would cause necrosis.  Which would mean more “digger” type issues….and Lord knows I don’t want another digger!

So my option is small implants.  This would fill out the flaws and the indentations and make me just a tad bigger.  It would also help pancake resemble righty.  I really don’t want to be much bigger, but he said in perportion to my size, a little bit bigger would be good.  Plus I have lost some weight since the surgery and I think I lost some in my breasts as well.

You’all know I have not wanted implants.  This option is not all that exciting for me.  He looked me in the eye and vowed that saline implants were safe.  He answered the question we all have….”would you recommend this to any female in your family” and the answer was yes.

We agreed I would sit on this for a while.  I’m not in any hurry to make this decision and since digger only finally, completely closed about a week ago, I should wait.  So I think it could be several months before I make a final decision regarding the implant option. 

He showed me more pictures because I am a little sad about how the scars look.  I told him my fears about having the nipples put on and how I just am pretty sad with my lumpy, scar-y, breasts.  I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever adjust to the new ones and the new look.  I’ve tried sunless tanning and pretty bras, but nothing seems to make me feel better about them.  They’re just not my old ones and I still have a hard time with that.  Can anyone relate to this?

He was very nice to me once again.  Who knew plastic surgeons also had to be psychiatrists.  He seemed pretty confident that I would eventually adjust.  And I had no idea this fix-up deal would be such a long process.  I’m really glad he had me look at more pictures, and I took special note of how long it was from before to after.  Several of them were two years later and the scaring was significantly lighter.  He even showed me one that had a DIEP and then implants and I have to say she looked pretty good.

So I have some decisions to make.  There’s no hurry.  There’s no cancer.  There’s just me adjusting to something new once again and deciding how and when to proceed.

Please Help Pancake!

I’m headed back to visit Dr. Plastic tomorrow at Northwestern.  I’m interested to hear what he has to say about tweeking these foobs a bit.  They really are looking much better.  The scars are healing well and lightening a bit I think.  Digger has healed completely.  It held on with an itty bitty hole for the longest time (I will post pictures soon!).  I have one side, actually the side with digger that looks really good.  I like to joke that Dr. D did the right side and the resident did the left, because the other one is my pancake foob.  It looks like the practice one and the right one looks really good.  You can’t even see the scar under the right foob because it’s just under the hang, so it looks like I only have one scar on that side…..which would be nice to have on the other side as well.  I’m really hoping he can do something with pancake foob because it needs a pick-me-up.  Hopefully he’ll be able to wave his magic wand….er….I mean his needle and thread and help’em out a bit.  He may also need a big suction needle (to borrow more fat from my lower half)…..we’ll see.  I’ll report back and let you know if he thinks there’s hope for pancake.