Post Op with Dr. K

The drains came out today!

As I suspected, two of them were definitely ready to come out. But the third was borderline. It was putting out about 50 cc's of fluid each day. At first, Dr. K wanted to leave it in. But since we live in North County, it would be more difficult for us to get back down in a few days to have the last one removed. She gave me the option and I chose to have her take the third out.

The drains basically help my body remove fluid buildup around the wounds on the inside as they heal. There is a give and take with having one or more in longer. The longer they are in, the more the risk of infection. Frankly, it is gross to have a tube coming out of your body. But if my body isn't ready to have them out, fluid may build up internally. The remedy is to have it drained with a large needle. Gulp. That sounds gross too, doesn't it? Dr. K said they would numb the area before inserting the big needle. Then I thought back to the biopsy. That needle prick wasn't too bad. And it isn't a given that the fluid will build up. Each day that goes by, the chances decrease. Dr. K advised me to put the immediate post-surgical camisole back on and put it on tight to compress the chest to help any fluid disperse. If it did build up, she said it would be very obvious--like a breast growing. So we'll keep an eye on that for the next few days.

As far as having the drains taken out, it was not a big deal. I took 2 pain pills before we went down. My usual is just 1, except at bedtime. So I was a bit lightheaded. She had me lay down and I said a little prayer. She snipped around the sutures and it was out before I knew it. I didn't feel a thing. Then she told Eric that the tubes had been at least 6 inches inside of my body. Yikes! I'm glad I didn't know that before.

She said the scars on my chest were healing quite nicely too. My next appointment with Dr. K is in 6 months, unless something goes wrong. I'll miss her. She was a great surgeon. Anyone in San Diego with Kaiser insurance that needs surgery should request her. (Contact me and I'll give you her full name!)

She is basically handing my case off to Dr. P, the oncologist. I got a copy of my pathology report on the way out. I was trying to decipher it when I got home and comparing it to some books I have on cancer. Although Dr. K (on the fly) said it was a stage 2b, I think it is actually a stage 3a. I'm not positive, and frankly, it doesn't make a big difference what the label is.

The juicy parts of the final pathologic diagnosis:

On the left: Invasive ductal carcinoma. Histologic grade: 3 of 3 (tubules 3, mitoses 3, nuclei 2)

Invasive tumor size: 3.5 cm.

Ductal carcinoma in situ: Present

Type and pattern: Cribriform and solid with necrosis

Grade: Intermediate

Lobular carcinoma in situ: Not identified

Lymphatic vascular invasion: Present

Nipple involved: No

Multiple simultaneous invasive carcinomas: No

Associated findings: Metastatic carcinoma present in five of fifteen left axillary lymph nodes (Largest lymph node metastasis 2.5 cm; carcinoma outside of confines of node capsule focally)

TNM: T2N2a

It's the T2N2a that makes me think it is grade 3 and not 2. The T2 refers to the tumor size (between 2-5 cm), and the N2 refers to the lymph node involvement (N2 means involved nodes are fixed to one another).

We'll find out for sure about staging next week from Dr. P. But again, it doesn't really matter that much. It is what it is. God is in control regardless of the stage. He'll see me through.

My prayer requests:

• That fluid does not build up in my body now that the drains are out.
• That I'm able to get a physical therapy appointment before August 17th. Dr. K referred me to PT to learn how to avoid a swelling of the arm (lymphedema). The soonest appointment they have right now is the 17th of August.
• That I continue to heal and be able to start some exercise to get into condition for chemotherapy.
• An ongoing request is for my family. It is hard on them to have me out of commission. Pray that they be strengthened and given extra doses of grace and mercy towards one another.

Bless you all!

Moving right along....or not

Day 6 post-op.

I go in to see Dr. K this morning. Hopefully the drains will come out. With Eric's help, I managed to untangle myself from the tubes and bulbs and get into the shower. This time, it wasn't as shocking to see myself in the mirror. I think Eric was more shaken than I was. It is awkward to move-I'm afraid to make sudden movements for fear that I'll pull out a tube. 2 of the 3 drains are well below 50 ccs per 24 hours. The third is just at 50. We'll see what Dr. K does with it. I'm going to take 2 pain pills before I go. Yesterday, I managed to wean myself down to 5 for the whole day. That is pretty good. But I'm not going to take any chances this morning.

You never know what a new day will bring. Yesterday morning I had a huge problem with, well....constipation. I've debated whether or not to blog about it, since it is so personal. And even at that, I'm going to spare some of the more gory details. But I decided that if anyone comes across this blog and is facing surgery, I want them to be very aware of this problem so they can avoid it.

In the hospital, they gave me colace as a stool softener. I didn't blow it off completely, but for the first couple of days just took 1 pill. They said I could take 1-2. I figured that my high fiber diet would take care of any of "those" problems. On day 4 I had my first post-op BM, which was difficult, but I managed to do it. I figured all systems were go. Then yesterday, it just would not move. It was there, but didn't move. When my mom came, I asked her to take me to Discovery Lake so I could walk a bit on flat ground. I figured if my dog needs some walking to poop, maybe I did too? It hurt like crazy just to walk, but I made it.

We got back home and still...nothing. I spent about 2 hours trying. Crying. Begging God to help me. Now, I've had 2 unmedicated childbirths. I've pushed a baby out with her hand by her head. I've pushed out a baby that has a larger head than the baby that was supposedly too big to fit through my pelvis. This was just as bad. Seriously. But worse, because at the end, I didn't have a beautiful baby! But it was also ridiculous. I was wondering what I was going to do if I couldn't get it out. How embarrassing would it be to go to the emergency room for this? I almost passed out a couple of times. Once, I even thought I felt one of my stitches pop. I don't know how mom stood it in the next room. It must have torn her heart out. I was seriously suffering. Words don't really do justice to just how bad this was. Finally it passed. But man, I never want to do that again.

Take if from one who has been there. If you are facing surgery, and they put you on hydrocodone/acetaminophen, MAX OUT the stool softeners.

Things are better in that department today, thank the Lord.

The weather has been unseasonably cool. I for one, am thankful for it. Remember about a week and a half ago when I woke up sweating? I was worrying about the heat and the drains. I did not want to suffer in summer temperatures with drains and post-operative recovery. Well, God took care of the heat for me. I realize now how I wasted that energy worrying about the temperature. That was something that God has control over and made happen in my best interests. If you think about it, everything is like that. God has control over everything, even things we *think* we have control over. We only do because God gives us the strength and power to have some dominion over them. We worry and fret about so much. But in the end, God works all of these little details out in a way that works for us. We just have to trust in Him in all these things. God works everything for the good for those who love Him and are called according to His purposes. (Romans 8:28)

I'll post again later to update on the appointment with Dr. K. My prayer requests are pretty much the same as yesterday. Healing and harmony! Love to you all!

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Day 4 post-op.

I'm so thankful for sleep. Again last night, I slept over 8 hours. I'm surprised that I am sleeping so well, considering that I am not able to move positions at all. Not only that, but I just took a 2 hour nap. Thank you, Lord!

Today I took a look at myself in the mirror. I needed to shower, so there was no getting around it. Mom came and helped get me undressed and untangled from all of my tubes and bulbs. There was a tiny bit of dried blood on the gauze that was around the left drain tube. I don't know if that is normal or not. I had a lanyard that I put around my neck and pinned the 3 drain bulbs to it. The shower felt good, but it was awkward with everything hanging from me. I was also a bit paranoid about getting the stitches too wet, so I stayed with my back facing the water most of the time. My right arm is able to move more, so I was able to wash my hair. Mom helped me dry off as I looked in the mirror.

Gulp. It's hard to describe what I saw. I look skinny, for one thing. The sutures themselves are puckery, since they used some dermabond on them. So there are two puckery, jagged diagonal cuts about 3-4 inches long on each side. When I look down, I see my stomach. It's strange not to have anything in between. When I look in the mirror, its strange because I can see my rib cage but nothing is above it. It is totally flat, and even concave on the upper chest. I touched my skin between the scars, and it was numb. I've had friends who went through this say their chest got numb as well. Eric came in as we were re-dressing me. He wasn't there for the big reveal. He said he wasn't freaked out. And honestly, he didn't sound freaked out. I think he was worried that I was freaked out. He kept saying, "This isn't who you are." Well, yes it is. At least on the outside. But as we tell the kids, it isn't what is on the outside that counts and makes you who you are. Maybe that is what that means.

Speaking of numbness, I'm numb on my left upper arm around the tricep area. I'm also numb on the tip of my tongue. That has been there since last Thursday. It feels like it does when you go to the dentist and get your mouth numbed. When you start to regain feeling, you get that prickly pins and needles feeling, you know? That is how the tip of my tongue feels.

I need to try not to slouch. It is so easy to do, especially with all of these tubes and stuff. They all are tucked away in pockets around my waist. When I button up a shirt, I look pregnant. I know I have said this before, but I will be SO HAPPY when these drains come out. It is so creepy to milk the tubes and drain them. If I don't concentrate on it, I could faint when we do that. There is less fluid in them each day, which is a good sign. The fluid is turning from a bright red to a yellowish-orange color.

How do I feel today? Mentally, I feel like I passed a big hurdle by looking in the mirror. Hopefully each time will get better. Physically, I am sore on my chest and sides. I'm still on pain meds, trying to go 3-4 hours in between each one. Yesterday I took a total of 7, whereas the first two days I took 9. The pain meds have made me a bit constipated. I've been taking some stool softener to get things moving. So far it isn't moving much, despite a high fiber diet. The sleep has been a godsend, for sure. I don't want to over do it, but I would like to venture out in the neighborhood for a walk. Maybe I'll go get the mail.

My prayer requests today:

• Healing, healing, healing. That is my big need right now.
• That the lower end of my digestive system get moving. :-)
• Patience for Eric. He has high standards for the kids. They are feeling like all he does is yell at them for playing video games or whatever. Just being kids. He doesn't even realize it most of the time. Everyone is under stress and he expects the kids to pick up some of the slack. But they are still kids and need to be given the room to be kids.

Recovery can be draining!

I'm now 3 days post-op. I still haven't completely looked at what I look like. I'm on some pretty heavy pain medication, although I am taking a little less today than I did the first two days. The pain meds make me dizzy. It also makes it very difficult for me to communicate with Eric's mom. It's hard enough to concentrate and communicate in French when I'm sober. But to do it on heavy pain meds is impossible. She wants confirmation from me about what she is doing with the kids, what she is feeding them, etc. It is impossible for me to do. I understand her not wanting to overstep any boundaries. But right now, I just need her to take the initiative and do it. I do feel better today in that department since I'm taking a little less. But I am a tad bit more uncomfortable. I'm not sure if its a good trade off! Go crazy, or feel a little more pain?

The pain is there, but the meds are doing their job. When I do feel pain, it is a dull ache in my chest. It is kind of like the feeling when you get punched in your gut, just in the chest. It also aches on my sides where the drains are inserted.

Ah, the drains. They are by far the most uncomfortable thing about this right now. Three times a day, we have to measure their output, log it, dump them and get them ready for more work. It grosses me out, but luckily Eric and mom deal with it better. The drains also force me to sleep on my back. Thankfully, I've been able to sleep for the past 2 nights without moving. Today I've been itching around the drain sites and under the camisole. I think I may need to take it all off tomorrow and shower.

But that is a scary prospect. To actually take a look at what is left underneath all of this.

I've seen it in bits and pieces yesterday. I was lying down trying to rest and felt some moisture on my left side. I started freaking out that maybe the drain was leaking around its insertion site. I jumped up, unbuttoned my shirt and saw a little bit of staining on the white camisole. Oh no. I called Eric up and showed him. We had to know if that was what was happening. If it was leaking, I needed to get some medical attention. Eric thought it would be a good idea to change the dressings while we were at it.

But that would mean taking off the camisole and looking. I couldn't help but cry. I just was not ready for that yet. He called my mom up to help us. We decided to do it in increments, not all at once. So I took off the camisole, but held the gauze pads on my chest on. There was some rolled up gauze that fell to the floor from my left side. No wonder it felt like I was wearing a life vest. They looked at each drain, cleaned around the insertion site with a hydrogen peroxide pad. There wasn't any leaking there, no redness or swelling. They both said it looked very good. Well, as good as a rubber tube coming out of your body can look. Eric taped some gauze pads around the insertion sites and then we considered the chest scars.

Since we were there, it made sense to check those stitches too. One by one, we pulled the gauze away and looked. I just looked down, not in the mirror. So I didn't get the full effect. What I did see was a row of stitches, closer to the top than I had imagined. It didn't look that bad, but it was flat. I couldn't look too long. We put the gauze back and I put on one of the new camisoles that I had picked up at the Women's Health Store. It is thinner than the post-surgical one.

Hopefully seeing myself in these instances will help it when I actually see it all at once. Today while we were working on the drains, I put my hand up to my upper chest just under my collarbone and it was indeed concave. Pam, the volunteer from the American Cancer Society said I very likely would be concave. Yikes.

I take hope in knowing that each day will get better. It will be much better when these drains are out. I have a post-op appointment with my surgeon on Wednesday. There is the chance that they could come out then.

All in all, I'm doing okay. I'm mobile, just not moving very quickly or very far.

My prayer requests:

• That my body heal quickly. That these drains do their job efficiently so they can be taken out soon. That scar tissue does not develop around the tubing that would make their removal painful.
• That Jean-Marc be content without the normal level of cuddles from mom. My mother in law is doing a good job of taking care of him and entertaining him. But at the end of the day, he wants mommy to bathe him and get him ready for bed. It was very sad last night when all I could do was rub his arm and kiss his cheek. He looked confused, then his little mouth turned upside down as he began to cry. It was heartbreaking. I hope he does not feel abandoned by me.
• That Olivier and Isabelle would not fight. The typical sibling competition and rivalry over screen time is exhausting. I want them to have fun with their games, but I'm pretty close to pulling the plug tonight.
• That Eric's health stay good. When he gets stressed, he gets sick. He has developed a toothache over the past 2 days, and I'm certain it is stress related.

Surgery, part two

Coming out of general anesthesia is a haze. I can't be chronological about it. Rather, it is a series of impressions, senses and mental images. Confused and scattered. I had the sensation of being jostled around, moved, packed in. My first impression was pain. Thankfully, I was given something for that fairly quickly. The nurse mentioned something about how it hurt when she had it done, except that she had expanders. A breast cancer survivor? The sound of someone throwing up near me in the recovery room. Thirst, but not as bad as after my cesarean. A digital clock on the wall that read military time. It said 18 something. That is the 6 o'clock hour, right? It had been all day. My surgeon's face looming over me telling me it was over, that she had talked to my family. That I wouldn't remember this, but she had to take some extra stitches on one side. What is a few more stitches, I thought. Whatever. The original nurse leaves, a male nurse comes to take her place. I guess it was break time for her. The person next to me is still throwing up. I'm glad I'm not. Can I have some ice, please? The nurse came and fed me a cube and it was delicious. I'm waiting in a hazy doze. The original nurse comes back and makes a call 'upstairs' to see if my room is ready. After a few more minutes, I'm being moved. Can I take my ice cup? I'll even hold it.

As I'm wheeled out, I see Eric and my parents in the hall. I lift my hand up to give them a wave. What do you say? Eric told me right away that I looked good. Gee, thanks. :-) They are told to meet us up on the 5th floor in my room.

The room itself was tiny, and I was sharing it with another patient. The staff got me all situated and my parents and Eric squeezed into the corner. I felt a little bit like a bug under glass. Eric seemed to want to talk, but I just didn't have the capacity to do it. It is hard to know how to act in these situations. It was good to know that they were all there, though. I was thrilled to have a small pitcher of cold water waiting for me, along with 2 juice boxes. I got started on those right away.

Several hospital staff came in and out in those first few minutes to get me settled and introduce me to themselves. They put a sign up over my head warning everyone away from taking blood or blood pressure on my left arm. That is going to be with me for the rest of my life. With no lymph nodes on the left side, I'm at risk for swelling. It's a condition known as lymphedema.

The charge nurse came in and asked me if I wanted anything to eat. Sure. "What do you want?" she asked. How am I supposed to make a decision like that? Is there a menu? Do I have choices? I can barely form words, yet I'm supposed to come up with an idea? She suggested a sandwich, so I agreed. She brought me a turkey sandwich wrapped in plastic. I wasn't up to eating quite

yet, but would try later.

I could tell Eric was a little uncomfortable. I don't blame him. There was nowhere for him to sit, and what do you say, anyway? I told him that it would be okay for him to go home and be with the kids and his mom.

Soon after he left, I got incredibly hot. I asked mom and dad to take the blankets off my legs, but it didn't help. I kept sweating. They got a washcloth wet in the bathroom and put it on my head. It helped a little, but the hot sensation just wouldn't pass. Around this time, a dinner tray was brought and put next to me. It had some turkey with a thick gravy on top. I knew I needed some protein, so I scraped off the gravy and took a bite of the meat. I could barely choke it down. There was a pear on the tray, and that was good. It was cold, and tasted delicious. I tried a second bite of meat and a wave a nausea overtook me. Oh gosh, was I going to throw up now too? (My roomie had been having a bad reaction to her anesthesia). I grabbed a styrofoam cup and held it ready to catch anything. We told the nurses and they gave me some anti-nausea medication. That was better than the barf tray I was expecting. Needless to say, "dinner" was over.

After that, mom and dad did their best to help cool me down. They alternated cool washcloths on my head. They both stood over me fanning me with folded up paper and a notebook. Anything to help me. It started to work. Mom sat by me with the wet cloth and stroked my face and head. That felt so good to be babied like that by my mom. I calmed down, cooled down, and felt like I could sleep.

It was around 8 p.m. and I felt the pain creeping up again. There was a dry-erase board that had my care instructions on it. It said, "Ask for help" and "pain management." So I buzzed the nurse and asked for pain meds. Much like the dinner question, she asked me what I wanted. Well, golly gee. What are my choices? It was basically IV or pill. I wanted something fast acting, so I chose the IV. As she gave it to me, she said the IV meds (morphine) would last 1-2 hours. The meds in pill form would last 3-4 hours. I made a mental note to ask for pills next time. Mom helped me get to the bathroom before they left. It was awkward in the small room, being attached to the IV and an oxygen line. When I got back into bed, the nurse saw I hadn't eaten much. She suggested some sherbert. That sounded good. And it was. Mom would have stayed the night, but I felt like I was okay. I was just going to sleep anyway. As mom and dad left, mom said she would be back down early the next day.

A hospital is a 24/7 kind of place. There really isn't a "night" and "day." So I slept on and off. It was noisy. My roommate had a knee replacement and was on an epidural. Every couple of hours, a crew of people would come in to wake her up and move her position in bed. Which meant I got woken up every couple of hours too. On top of that, a lady would come in to take vital signs every few hours as well. I slept until about 11 and woke up. I thought I would ask for pain meds at midnight, but fell back asleep. There was a shift change right before I fell asleep, and my nurse introduced me to the night nurse. As she left, the first nurse squeezed my hand and told me that she would pray for me. I really appreciated that!

I woke up around 4 a.m. and knew I was going to need to go to the bathroom again soon. But I hadn't had any pain meds since 8 p.m., and that was the morphine that didn't last as long. So I knew it would be very difficult to get up without getting some pain meds in me first. I buzzed the nurse and asked the person who answered. When no one came by 4:30, I was wondering what was going on. The nurse finally came, but she came in to check on my drains. I asked her about the pain meds and she gave them to me right away, but suggested I eat some saltine crackers first.

About 30 minutes later, I asked for help to the bathroom. It was awkward again, but not as hard as it had been the first time. When I got back to bed, I just zoned out for awhile. My roommate made the first contact between us. We never saw each others faces, the curtain was always drawn. She asked me what I was in for. I dropped the cancer bomb yet again. She was very nice and I appreciated her kind words.

They brought a breakfast tray around 7:30 a.m. I was hungry, so anything would have tasted good. It was a pretty high-carb meal of French toast and Cheerios. The only protein was the milk for the cereal. No matter-I gobbled it up. The coffee helped my head too. I am kind of suprised by the lack of healthy food in the hospital, though. I heard the meal service person ask my roommate what she wanted the next day for breakfast. Her choices were: waffles; pancakes; or French toast. What about eggs?? Anyway, I was glad that I wouldn't be in too long for that reason alone.

My surgeon had procedures scheduled that day at Kaiser's Otay Mesa facility, so her assistant came to check on me. He asked me if I was ready to go home. I guess so. He took a peek at my stitches. I looked away. Not ready to go there, yet. He said everything looked really good. The main thing he wanted me to be aware of was that I wasn't to take any "extra" Tylenol, since my pain meds had a big dose of acetaminophen. When I was ready to exercise again, he said a recumbent bike would be the least jarring.

The nurse sent my mom down to the pharmacy to get my pain medication, and she took out my IV. It felt good to be "unhooked." When mom got back, she helped me to get dressed. When I saw myself in the mirror with the post-surgical camisole, with drains and tubes coming out, I asked her to get a picture. I couldn't help but think how "Borg-like" I looked. I told her to get a picture, and here it is. I laughed as I thought of a fitting caption for it, "Resistance is futile!"

I've got three drains, 2 on the left and one on the right. Each is attached to a long tube that is coming out of my side. (Ick) I've got these little velcro pouches that connect onto the camisole to hold the drain itself. They need to be measured and emptied out about 3 times a day. The nurse made sure mom and I were able to do it before we left. With all of the gauze padding, it felt like I was wearing a bulletproof vest or a life preserver.

The nurse wheeled me down and mom picked me up in the front and we left. I have a little heart shaped pillow that I wear underneath the seat belt so it doesn't rub on my chest. Mom was really careful to drive slow. The ride didn't hurt. It was weird to be out of the hospital and see the rest of the world carrying on as if nothing had happened. Yet my life had permanently changed. Now I was on my way home to try and figure out how to live it.

Someone who has been there

I got a call today from a volunteer from the American Cancer Society (ACS). They have a program that matches cancer patients up with survivors with similar situations for advice, counsel, and overall mentoring. I told ACS this morning that I would be interested in talking to someone, and I got a call the same day. Pretty efficient. (As a side note, the American Cancer Society has been amazing. A very worthy charity, they do a lot for cancer patients)

"Pam" was diagnosed at the age of 44. By all measures her cancer was "worse" than mine. She was a "triple negative." The bottom line of that is that it was a more aggressive cancer and not receptive to hormone treatment. Her grade and stage was 3. She had a bilateral mastectomy, which is what I'm mentally gearing up for on Thursday. It was nice to talk to someone else who had been there. I do have a good friend who went through this about a year and a half ago that has been very open with me. But I'm always on the lookout for more information and experiences.

Some useful advice Pam gave me:

• When I wake up, my chest will be flat or even concave. She advised me to wait a day or so to look at it in the mirror. Maybe put my hands up there to "feel" the flatness first. When I do venture a peek, have someone there with me.
• The fluid in the drains will start out red. There may even be "floaties" in it, tissue or other stuff like that. Don't freak out on it. Just measure it and dump.
• The drains will make it difficult to be comfortable. They are probably the worst part. In the hospital, prop my arms up on the sides with pillows. Speaking of pillows, ACS is going to be sending me 3 special pillows to help in my recovery.
• When the drains are removed, it may hurt. The tubes are going to be about 1-2 inches inside my body for several days, if not a week or two. There is the possibility that scar tissue may form around the tubes. When they yank it out, it could hurt. Judy, the nurse at Kaiser, suggested I take a pain pill before the appointment. I will definitely do that.
• Many people have never had cancer or been touched by cancer. So they will say "let me know if there is anything I can do." This is their way of trying to help. I need to let them. Rather than say everything is okay like you have been doing all your life, now is a time for you to come up with things that you need done. Even if its a ride for the kids, or having someone bring you a food you are craving. Get over being self-sufficient.

At one point in the conversation, she mentioned that she didn't know how "attached" I was to my breasts, but they are killing me. I shared with her that I am very aware of that, and wish they were gone already. That I don't even want to touch them. I have very similar feelings towards my cesarean scar, although those have faded with time. But I am repulsed by my breasts, especially the left one, to be sure. Yet, at the same time, I have flashes where the thought of surgery puts a panic in the pit of my stomach. It reminds me of feelings that I have had when pregnant. I'd be going along just fine, and then think about the looming challenge of childbirth and have a momentary freak-out to myself saying, "Oh my God....can I do this?" It is kind of like that, but worse. Because at least at the end of childbirth, you have a baby. At the end of this, I'll be scarred and mutilated with painful recovery and chemo to look forward to.

Pam has survived a stage 3 cancer that was more aggressive than mine. She has gone on to finish her education and live life. She said that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It's just that the tunnel takes turns at points where you can't see the light. In those places, you just have to get past it. She is sending me a bunch of stuff, pillows, bra stuffers, etc. from ACS. Nice! More freebies! She is going to call again on Wednesday night to see how I'm doing and answer any last minute questions I may have.

On another positive note, Eric gave me the go-ahead to get some help around the house. I've had two wonderful women here cleaning my house all day. It has been 7 hours so far! They are dusting blinds, doing windows, cleaning appliances...it is fantastic. They are going to be coming every other week for the foreseeable future. He doesn't want me exposed to bacteria and stuff once my immune system is down during chemo. That works for me, I've got to say. :-)

My prayer requests today:

• That I be able to sleep. I've actually slept 6-7 hours each night for the past few nights. But I know that is a gift from God and I'd like it to continue. Especially the night before surgery. I have to report to Kaiser at 9:00 a.m. on Thursday.
• That the cancer not grow anymore.
• That my family not be fearful. Eric had an episode today where he started crying in front of the kids saying that the thought of me not getting through this, "scared the hell out of him." We all have our weak moments. Everyone needs extra strength this week as we gear up for what is to come.