Ready, set...go...tomorrow

Back to business Monday.  The kids were a little sad to see their Christmas vacation end.  I was too.  I'm in the middle of taking down all those Christmas decorations that we so joyfully put up.  I'm reminding myself and the kids that we'll be hauling it all out again in about 11 months.  I told Isabelle that we'd put up some springtime decorations in a few months.

I started my new routine this morning.  Drop Isabelle off at school when they open the gates at 8:15, then head over to Escondido to the radiation oncologists office. Mom meets me in the parking lot and hangs out with Jean-Marc while I go in for my daily dose of radiation.

Today was just a test.  Tomorrow will be the real thing. They told me today would be the longest session.  Even at that, I was out in 30 minutes.

First they took my weight. Ugh! Really?  Sigh.  Needless to say, I like my scale at home better.  Or maybe I wouldn't.  (I usually weigh in on Friday.)  The Monday after New Year's is a harsh time to make a girl step on a scale!  Anyway, I was assigned "cubby 11" for my robe. There is a small changing room with about 12-18 cubbies with gowns in them.  I am to strip from the waist up and put on the robe each day.  On Monday, they will swap out a clean robe.

After I was changed, I was taken into the room where they will be doing the radiation.  I climbed up onto a "bed" (slab might be a better word).  It was similar to the one we did the mapping on last month. They had me hold onto the bars above my head and I was told that my only job was to lay still.  They moved me around a bit and started to get me into position.  There was a large glass paneled machine about 6 inches above me in which I could see the reflection of my body.  I could see intersecting red lines projected onto my skin.  I think they were lining these up with the tattoos they gave me last month.  There were several technicians involved, all women.  Not that it would matter.  After 3 births, a miscarriage, breast cancer you lose all sense of modesty, especially up on top.  They took several measurements to get everything "just right."  Then they took a few X-Rays.

I was told to keep lying still.  The doctor was looking at the films.  Then they came back, made some adjustments and took more X-rays.  Then I was to wait.  Then they did it again.  Whatever.  I'd rather they take their time to get it exactly right than to zap me in the wrong place.  I know a small piece of my left lung is going to be in the way, but they need to avoid my heart.  So do what you have to do, gals.

The ceiling reminded me of the tile floor in our old house on Poppy.  Large neutral squares with black diamond tiles in every other corner.  I wonder if they would mind if I snapped a picture of the ceiling?

When it was all over and I was dressed again, a nurse talked to me about skin care.  I'm not supposed to wear deodorant on my left side. No problem. When I do worry about that, I've been using a crystal stick.  I'm supposed to moisturize the upper left quadrant of my body from the collarbone down to the rib, from the centerline to underneath my arm at least 3-4 times a day.  The doctor had mentioned calendula cream. This nurse also mentioned aloe vera and they gave me some samples of cream that is very much like petroleum jelly.  The only thing is that I'm not supposed to use anything on the area 3-4 hours before treatment.

So I'm ready to go.  My hand and arm are looking very good.  A little puffy on the fingers and hand, but not bad.  Last night, I just bandaged my hand.  It actually feels good to be bandaged on my hand.  I can do my fingers and hand myself. I don't know if its the feeling of the fluid being pushed out, or if its just mental knowing that I'm doing something proactive about it.  I've started reading this book called "Voices of Lymphedema."  I'm learning a lot from other people who have lived with this disease, some of them for their entire lives. At least now, there is recognition about the problem.  I am grateful that Kaiser referred me to physical therapy right after surgery.  Others have had to fight for referrals with doctors who didn't even know what lymphedema was. The books are encouraging, though.  The people in there do not let the disease take over their lives.  They learn to accommodate it and treat it on their own, but they still are able to participate in their hobbies and travel. I hope to be the same.

Itchy!

Last night was a pretty typical night for me.  Cycles of hot flashes, sweating, kicking off sheets, pulling them back on.  I also felt myself scratching my sides and arms through my pajamas.  I woke up to a pretty bad case of hives. They are all over my body: my sides; belly; back; and legs.

I'm not sure what is causing this reaction.  I didn't eat anything new yesterday.  I didn't use any new lotions or soaps.  Could it be the Cipro?  It's a pretty strong antibiotic.  I've been on it since Tuesday.  On the other hand, I've done a week of Cipro for the last 5 rounds with no reaction.  I decided to hold off on this morning's dose and e-mail Dr. P.  He has been pretty responsive to e-mail in the past. 

I was able to cope pretty well this morning. It was there and annoying, but I was able to workout and go grocery shopping.  

I didn't hear back from Dr. P this morning, so at 11 a.m., I decided to call the oncology department.  After all, it is Friday.  I don't want to have to deal with an ER visit over the weekend.  It's the first time I've had to call for advice my chemotherapy.  The operator told me that Dr. P was out of the office until Monday.  I asked to send a message to another doctor.  If I wait until Monday, I would be almost through the Cipro.  I needed some guidance today.  After leaving the message, I decided to take the first dose of the day and see if it made the hives worse. 

I heard back from an oncology nurse a few minutes later.  She suggested that I treat the symptoms with benadryl and topical creams.  I had some old benadryl, so I took one.  Anything to help the itch, which had grown worse.  She thought the chemo was probably the culprit, not the Cipro.  She passed my information onto the on-call oncologist.  

I am pretty impressed with the oncology department at Kaiser.  I heard back from the oncologist via e-mail shortly after that.  This was a little over one hour after my initial phone call.   His advice was that, while we can't be sure its a reaction to the Cipro, I should stop taking it and use benadryl to ease the symptoms.  That is good and bad news.  I'm more than happy to stop the Cipro.  We are using it prophylactically so I don't catch a secondary infection.  If I am careful about germs and God watches over me, I should be okay.  (Well, I know He's watching over me regardless)   The bad news is that I just took a pill an hour ago.  Since then, my right eyelid has swollen up and I'm itching like mad. 

My mom is going to be coming over later to pick up Olivier to spend the night at her house.  She's coming to my rescue as well with new benadryl and some aveeno bath.  

Hopefully I won't go insane before these hives go away.  As you can imagine, my prayer request today is that these hives go away.  I also need prayer that I don't get sick or have some negative consequence from stopping the Cipro while my white blood cell counts are probably very low.  

One more to go...

I'm back from my 5th round of chemotherapy.  It went well, no surprises.

I slept really well last night.  My 90+ minute heart pumping cardio workout yesterday may have had something to do with that.  Well, that an the Ativan I popped before going to bed.  On the 3 days I'm on the steriod, I take th Ativan to help me sleep.  It's not that I can't get to sleep, but when I wake up at night, I can't get back to sleep. The Ativan takes care of that.

The kids were off of school today and I didn't need to be at Kaiser until 9 a.m.  I had time to do a load of laundry and a 30 minute yoga practice.  It felt good to really stretch and relax before going in.

The chemotherapy nurses at Kaiser in San Marcos are the best.  They all greet you, know you, talk to you and are generally amazing.  I passed along a greeting from my former pastor to one of them that was his wife's nurse when she was battling breast cancer. She, in turn told me how Pat and Joyce had taken the time out of their lives (during their battle) to call her while she was touring Israel. Sweet!

My blood counts were perfect!  I realized later that was an answer to prayer from earlier in the week.  Thank you Lord!  (And all my prayer warriors out there). I went ahead and had the IV put in my forearm. I told her about the brusing, so I kept my arm wrapped in a heating pad while I was there.  I also drank 40 ounces of water while at Kaiser.  I had about 30 ounces at home before going in.  These first few days of chemo rounds make me really thirsty.  I drink and drink and feel dry still.  In a few days, water will taste bad--like metal.  So I drink it while I can without the aftertaste.

There was a lady next to me who was really scared.  It was her first time, and she was getting the same drugs as me.  She only spoke a little English.   Her nurse introduced me to her and told her that I was on my 5th time.  I smiled and told her it would be okay.  When I left, she seemed to be doing fine.  You can't let you mind go off in scary places.  The fear of the unknown can be debilitating.

As I was finishing up at Kaiser, I got a call from Eric.  He had taken the kids to the San Diego Wild Animal Park and they were pulling into Sammy's for lunch.  What timing!  I told him what to order for me and made my way over.  It was a nice lunch.  Jean-Marc was sitting at the other end of the table next to Eric, so daddy got to take care of him in the restaurant.  He's high maintenance, always moving, and wanting whatever it is NOW.  He'll drop a crayon, want a drink, etc. It was nice to be able to go and just talk and eat!  After lunch, the kids and I went to a new frozen yogurt place nearby called Menchie's.  It was great, and I daresay the original tart yogurt was better than Froyos.  Creamier.  It's a new place, the employees were friendly, giving the kids stickers, balloons, and temporary tattoos.  It was a great way to celebrate the ending of my morning.

My plan for the weekend is to relax as much as possible.  I'm dropping Olivier off for a boy scout backpack campout in about 30 minutes.  He'll be gone until Sunday.  It's his first backpacking trip, so he's really excited to break in his new backpack.  I hope he won't get too cold!  They are going to camp tonight at some place called Fish creek, and then hike up to some caves in the Anza Borrego desert tomorrow and sleep there tomorrow night.  Eric is going to build shelves in our new garden shed.  Isabelle is going to ride her horses tomorrow.  Jean-Marc will be in the mix throughout.  He has been invited to a birthday party tomorrow morning, we'll go if I'm up to it.  My idea of perfect days are to just go up in my room and watch the 6-8 hours of Jane Eyre on DVD that I got from Netflix!  We'll see how much of it I'll get through.

My prayer requests:

• That Olivier have a fun, warm and safe experience this weekend.  He's the only new scout going on this trip, so he won't be with the patrol leaders he's used to.  He'll be getting to know other boys better and learning a lot!
• That I deal with this round of chemo well.  That I don't turn into a chemo-mush brain, with little to no patience.  That my family have the grace to cope with my mood swings and fuzzy head if the need arises. 
• That my arm doesn't bruise like it did last time.  That made me feel "sick" to see a banged up arm. 

Preparations, again

This Friday will be round #4 of chemotherapy. I find myself getting into "preparation" mode again on several levels.

It actually started last Friday with a visit to Kaiser. I got my blood drawn for a Vitamin D test and got my flu shot on the way out. (At Dr. P's recommendation). I was a little miffed to get my "results" of the blood draw online and see that they seemed to have made a mistake and drawn blood for a liver function panel and creatinine screen, but no Vitamin D results. That made me wonder if my lab appointment for this Thursday got switched and instead of the pre-chemo tests they would just do Vitamin D. That would potentially delay my chemo. That prompted a call to the lab this morning, which is no small feat. First, you have to leave a message and then wait for them to call you back. If you don't happen to be by the phone to catch the call, it's phone tag and you are IT. You get to start at the beginning and leave a message for them. I realized as I was taking Isabelle to school this morning that I had left my cell phone plugged in. Sure enough, by the time I got home, they had called. Fortunately, the second time was a charm and I did catch the call. As it turns out, they did draw for Vitamin D, the other tests were overkill and will be done as planned this Thursday before chemo.

Dr. P recommended the flu shot for everyone just to keep potential illness out of the house. The injection with the dead virus for me 2 weeks after chemo (which was last Friday). The kids got the nasal mist today. Yeah, I know some people don't agree with immunizations and particularly flu shots. If that works for you, cool. But I'm going to go with what the oncologist recommends. He's gotten me to this point pretty well, so I'm going to go with what he says. Please no comments second guessing this decision, okay? :-)

I'll go through my now-familiar Thursday pre-chemo routine in a few days. Blood draw at 9 a.m., pick up the refill of Cipro and a visit with Dr. P.

The insurance situation with Kaiser continues to be a mess. Kaiser re-coded policies and put me in a "new" plan as of September 1. A couple weeks ago, they had not carried over my out of pocket accumulations to the "new" plan, so I was being told by the providers that I had a huge co-pay. (I have a high deductible plan, but have more than met the family deductible this year). Last month, they told me to call back if I got a bill. Sure enough, I did. My concern is that the services I am being billed for since September 1 are not being adjusted correctly. Is Kaiser billing me as if I had not met the deductible? I can't figure it out from the statement. So I called that department today to check. It is so confusing that the woman I talked to had to have her manager look at the account to figure it out and will call me back tomorrow. What a pain!

There are other preparations I'm making this week as well. I want to get the dog groomed before Friday. She smells bad! I'm making a huge pot of "Chicken Magic Mineral Broth" from "The Cancer Fighting Kitchen." I've planned super nutritious meals for this week full of veggies, legumes and protein so I'm not nutritionally deficient on Friday. I'm doing my higher intensity workouts at the beginning of the week so I can take a day or two off later on. Working out also keeps me feeling strong, keeps my metabolism up, and keeps those happy endorphins flowing good and strong!

This round will be different because my mom and dad are going to be out of town. Mom has really picked up the slack for me at chemo time. It's good they are going--it means my brother Jared is coming home from his 3rd tour in Iraq!! But that means Eric will have to pick up my slack. He is going to take Thursday and Friday morning off so he can hang out with Jean-Marc while I'm at Kaiser getting treatment. I'm most concerned about Monday the 25th. Monday after chemo (day 4) has been my worst day each round. Last time, I rested Sunday afternoon. It helped, but I was still "blah" and foggy on Monday. This Sunday I have the Charger game, and I'm not planning on missing that!

Speaking of the Charger game, yesterday at the "Making Strides" walk, I was going into the area where the flagship sponsors had tents. We had to show a special wristband to get past some ropes. Anyway, the guy manning the rope said, "We'll see you next Sunday!" Turns out, he was from the American Cancer Society and is organizing the event at the Charger game. I was surprised he knew who I was when we hadn't been introduced.

Anyway, I'm feeling good and will be glad when I get to Friday. Then I will definitely be over the hump. 4 down, 2 to go.

My prayer requests:

• That I be strong spiritually. I've had a few instances in the past few days with fear. I ran across some stupid "tools" online for cancer survival. I should have just closed the page, but instead I put in my stats "just to see." I did not need to see survival statistics/mortality rates for people in my situation.  It freaks me out to think of myself as a statistic. I go along most of the time feeling like I'm going to beat this and then BAM! The possibility that I may have recurrence, metastatic stage IV, years of treatment pops into my head. I know that this is a form of spiritual warfare that the enemy is using on me. 
• That God would eradicate any cancer cells in my body. Just make them disappear. I was reading Psalm 29 this morning. In it, David is marveling at God's mighty power. He can certainly make cancer cells disappear if it is His will. 

In closing, I wanted to share one of the Psalms that I read this morining during my devotional time.  I found out later that part of it is set to music, "This is How We Overcome."

Psalm 30

 ¹ I will extol You, O LORD, for You have lifted me up,
         And have not let my foes rejoice over me.
 ² O LORD my God, I cried out to You,
         And You healed me.
 ³ O LORD, You brought my soul up from the grave;
         You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.
        
 ⁴ Sing praise to the LORD, you saints of His,
         And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.
 ⁵ For His anger is but for a moment,
         His favor is for life;
         Weeping may endure for a night,
         But joy comes in the morning.
        
 ⁶ Now in my prosperity I said,
         “I shall never be moved.”
 ⁷ LORD, by Your favor You have made my mountain stand strong;
         You hid Your face, and I was troubled.
        
 ⁸ I cried out to You, O LORD;
         And to the LORD I made supplication:
 ⁹ “What profit is there in my blood,
         When I go down to the pit?
         Will the dust praise You?
         Will it declare Your truth?
 ¹⁰ Hear, O LORD, and have mercy on me;
         LORD, be my helper!”
        
 ¹¹ You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
         You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
 ¹² To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.
         O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever. (Psalm 30, New King James Version)

Administrative mess

The plot with Kaiser thickens!  I got yet another "Summary of Accumulation" statement for the month of September from Kaiser.  This one seemed to have my year to date totals correct, but I didn't notice that until I had picked up the phone to call their member services number.  When the representative went into my records she mentioned that there was definitely a problem.  As it turns out, they had to re-code things on their end because of the Health Care Reform Act, which ended up enrolling me into a "new" plan.  Even though things are all the same for me and my deductible accumulations are supposed to carry over to the "new" plan.  Its just that latter part that hasn't happened yet, and she acknowledged that it was all their problem.  It can take up to 30 days to fix it.  When I go in for my various appointments this week, they are going to ask me for my cost share as if I had not met my deductible.  I have a high deductible plan, so those cost shares are pretty high.  She suggested I take in the statement that I received today to prove I had met my deductible and

ask them to bill me.  By then, the mess should be sorted out.  If I receive a bill this month, I'm supposed to call them back, because they will be billing me at the higher rate as if I had not met the deductible.  

It is a confusing mess, but at least they care about what I think about their services.  I got a survey call about 5 minutes after I hung up asking me about the various elements of the call and the employee I talked to.  I've also been surveyed for various visits to Kaiser doctors and my hospital stay.  It's nice to think they care.  I've never had another doctor or hospital ask me what I thought of their service or how they could improve.  

It is HOT in San Diego this week. Thank God for air conditioning. There was no way I was going to walk with my girlfriends in this heat.  I went to the gym instead.  It was a bit of a gamble, since the last time I was there and put Jean-Marc in the Kids' Club, he cried until I got called back.  This time, he did fine.  I was able to get a much more intense workout in (30 minutes on the Stairmaster, 35 on the treadmill running sprints).  It was great!  The only downside was that Jean-Marc had an accident while in there.  No big deal, I had him in a Pull Up.  He did stay dry when we went grocery shopping. 

Olivier is on the verge of being sick.  He didn't sleep well last night.  When I picked him up from school, he was achy and had trouble concentrating all day.  I made him a coconut mango smoothie with orange juice in it and told him he wasn't going to make karate today.  I hope that a day of just doing his homework, lying low and drinking lots of fluids will help him kick this.  

My prayer requests:

• That Olivier not get sick. That the rest of us resist whatever germ he has brought into our midst.
• That timing will work out with Isabelle this week.  She is running for student council secretary this year and has to make a speech to the school this week.  I found out today that the speeches and election is going to be on Thursday, not Wednesday as we had thought.  I hate to miss her speech, but I have a busy day of medical appointments on Thursday.  I'm so proud of her for going for it again. She's running against 2 other boys. She was secretary last year, but ran unopposed.  It's a bigger deal this year, I really want to be there for her. 
• That my blood work show that I am ready for round three on Friday.  That whatever chemo drugs are still in my system continue to do their job. 

Gym time!

I finally made it to the gym today.  Wouldn't you know it, I was tired all morning. I wasn't sure how it was going to work.  My fatigue had nothing to do with sleep-I actually had slept well for the past 2 nights.  Strange.  So I brewed some green tea and iced it as my lunch beverage.  Maybe it was the tea, maybe it was just the energy at the gym, but I definitely kicked the tired feeling for the rest of the day.

It had been quite awhile since I tried to run, so I wanted to give it a try. I did an hour and change on the treadmill, doing 2 minute intervals.  My walking speed was a 15 minute mile on a slight incline, and my running speed was about 11.5 minute mile flat. Yeah, to you runners this is probably lame.  But it was pretty good for me. Besides, I'm short!  It felt good to do it.  I wasn't sure I could do it during the first 10 minutes.  I hit a physical "wall" and need to push a bit to get over it.  And I did.  It felt great to run a bit and sweat a lot, especially after taking it easy for the first half of the week.  I did over 4.5 miles in that time. I'll do my Jillian DVD again tomorrow and will feel like I'm back in the game.

When I'm exercising at the gym, I wear a T-shirt on my head.  Seriously.  I learned this trick at the "Look Good, Feel Better" program.  You cut a T-shirt off below the arms.  Then you can wrap the bottom part around your head like a turban.  It's cheap, and it is easily washable. I bought some cheap shirts at Michaels for $1.99, so I have them in multiple colors.

The potty training is going pretty well.  I just keep Jean-Marc naked from the waist down at home and make sure the potty is nearby.  He is able to get there in time when he needs to, and he even did #2 again tonight!  Slow and steady, we'll keep at it.

I had a scary thing happen this morning in the Target parking lot.  I was a bit stressed because Jean-Marc was out and about in regular underwear, no pull up or diaper.  We had done our shopping and I needed to get him home to sit on the pot.  I looked both ways backing out several times, but felt a bump as I moved out.  I thought maybe I hit a cart.  I looked in my mirror and saw a Target employee waving her arms and yelling.  Oh no!  I was so afraid I hit someone.  This girl was being dropped off at work by her boyfriend, and he was in a large SUV.  I got out, and I had totally backed right into him.  Geez.  I've never done that before.  I pulled back into my spot, got out with my insurance information and went to face the music.  I was wearing my wig, so I couldn't even get the pity factor in there. Thank the Lord, he was very cool about the whole thing.  He didn't see any damage to his car, and didn't even want my information.  I was glad the girlfriend had gone into the store-she was a bit more agitated.  My car suffered a dent in the back, but it could have been so much worse.  Thank you God, for protecting me against myself!

I got my lab appointment stuff worked out with Kaiser.  Still no word on the insurance/deductible mess. That one is completely on them.

This weekend should be fun.  We are celebrating my dad's birthday tomorrow at my parents' house.  I'm bringing some yummy dishes to get my bean and cabbage fix.  Dad will rotissere 2 organic chickens and barbeque some tri tip.  Mom even made an organic rhubarb pie!  Oh, and homemade strawberry ice cream. My brother and his family will be coming up, the kids will have fun playing with their cousins.  Mom and dad have some boxes down from the attic of "stuff" they have stored over the years that they want us to go through to take or toss.  It should be fun to walk down memory lane.  

Thank you for your prayers and support.  They mean a lot, and I know they are working.  There is no other reason to explain me running/walking like that for an hour in the midst of chemo! 

Success!

I mentioned yesterday how I am just living life until chemo next week. Most of that revolves around being a mom.

I decided to jump off the potty training cliff.  I have a few days with not much going on, so I can stick close to home with Jean-Marc.  He's totally aware of when he goes, he even goes and gets a diaper when he needs a change.  It was just going to take some focus and dedication from me to get it done. My overall irritation factor has decreased over the past few days, I feel good physically (which may very well change after chemo next week).  So I decided its now or much later.

We've had 3 accidents so far today, but by far we've had more success today.  The key was just having him go without bottoms and having the little potty nearby so he could run to it when he felt the urge.  He even did it for #2!  Yippee!  We are off to a great start.

I've run into a little bit of frustration with Kaiser on two fronts.  First of all, I am always curious to get my monthly "Summary of Accumulation" statements to see how much we've spent thus far for the year and to see where we are as far as our annual deductible ($3,000 for the kids and I), and our annual out of pocket maximum ($6,000).  Last month, we had met the deductible and were $3,400 and change towards the annual out of pocket maximum.   The statement I got this week said we were only $9.74 towards both.  What??  That made no sense.  I called their 800# and had to leave a message with a girl who wasn't usually answering the phones for that department due to "an unusually high call volume."  Gee, I wonder why.  Perhaps they screwed others up as well.  She asked why I thought it was wrong.  I told her, "I was diagnosed with breast cancer in June and have been through a mastectomy and 2 rounds of chemo, so I know I've incurred more than $10.  Besides, it doesn't make much sense compared to last month's statement."  After I said the words "breast cancer" I heard her suck in her breath and go, "Oh I'm so sorry."  BAM!  Cancer bomb dropped. Kaboom!

I didn't get a call back, so I sent them an e-mail last night.  This morning, they replied that they had forwarded my message on to the appropriate places as a "formal complaint."  Okay. Whatever.  I don't want to be a complainer, but whatever.  Just fix it!

The second irritant concerns the blood work I need to get done the day before chemo.  To get a lab appointment, you have to call a number and then wait for them to call you  back.  I left the message on Tuesday and finally got a call back after hours last night (Wednesday).  They had no clue because there was no order for the blood work in the system.  So I had to e-mail my oncologist and ask that he order the blood work so I could get it done.  I got an answer this morning from his nurse that he was out of the office until Monday, but she was able to release the orders.  Okay.  So now I'm again waiting for the call back from the lab.

I got thrown a curve ball this afternoon that upset me for a few minutes.  I hadn't been to the gym or done a real kick butt workout all week.  I've walked and done pilates, but nothing that really made me sweat.  If I don't sweat a lot, I don't feel like I've gotten much of a workout.  I was looking forward to going to the gym and doing some hardcore cardio before picking Isabelle up at school.  Thursdays I don't have to pick up at the middle school, so I have time.  My carpool partner called and was stuck at work and needed me to pick up.  Well, of course I'll have to.  But I'll miss the gym!  Waaah!  I got over it, though.  Partly because Jean-Marc pooped on the potty.  But then I realized that I could do my Jillian DVD after I get home with Isabelle today (which I was planning for tomorrow) and I can do the gym thing tomorrow afternoon.  Just swap the days. I get frustrated when my plans get changed by circumstances out of my control.  You would think I would have been able to roll with the punches considering how the cancer thing has totally thrown me for a loop.

Next Thursday is going to be busy.  Lab appointment (eventually), pharmacy pickup for round #3s Cipro, oncology appointment in the morning.  Then at 1 p.m., I have an appointment at the Women's Health boutique to get my foobies and a compression sleeve for my arm.  My measurements were slightly bigger on the left arm on Monday, so the physical therapist went ahead and gave me the diagnosis of "lymphedema" so the sleeve would be covered.  Otherwise, my surgeon told me yesterday that it would have been out of pocket.  Whew.  I just don't want the swelling to increase, so I've been practicing the manual drainage technique each day that I learned on Monday. Something else to add to the daily routine.  Thank you, breast cancer.

My prayer requests:

• That the potty training go well with Jean-Marc.  That I am able to maintain my patience and sanity over the next several days as we go through the nitty gritty of it. 
• That the administrative issues with Kaiser be resolved without hassle.  It seems like a pretty clear mistake to me.  Let's pray that they admit it and fix it.  
• That I continue to feel good and get stronger in the next week so I'm in shape for round 3 next week. That the chemo drugs already in my system do their job. Tomorrow marks 3 weeks since my hair started falling out.  It was 2 weeks from my first round of chemo.  I wonder if the stubble will come out now that I'm at that point in this round?  

Round Two in the can

I woke up this morning ready to go! The morning here getting ready was pretty smooth-I had the kids' lunches ready to go the night before. We were out the door by 7:25 a.m. I dropped Olivier off at his school, then dropped Isabelle off at her friends' house so they could walk to their school together.

I had about 45 minutes to kill, so I met my mom at Discovery Lake and we did a couple of easy laps. She took Jean-Marc from there to the Wild Animal Park for the morning. (I will never call it "Safari Park," by the way!)

I walked into Kaiser, and I'm sure everyone could see where I was headed...the chemotherapy suite! I was dressed in my battle gear: pink yoga pants and matching hoodie, my pink ribbon T-shirt that says "GOD...so much bigger than cancer!"; and a pink head scarf that I picked up this week. I even had matching hot pink toenails! That was coincidence...that was the pedicure I had a month ago. By the way, I am more and more comfortable going out with the headscarf "cancer patient" look. Own it, baby! This is what I'm going through right now, so be nice to me, world! :-)

I was able to pick my chair, so I headed right for the one by the windows so I could perhaps get a little bit of reception on my iPhone. Yep! As many of you know, I was able to update my facebook status while there.

The routine goes like this: the nurse comes over and wraps your arm in a warm towel. She logs onto the system and asks you about your meds, which ones you are currently on, and which ones you will be taking during this round. Then she puts an IV in your arm. This time, it went in a bit low. It looked like it was on my hand, but the needle inside actually reached down to my wrist. Every time I moved my wrist, it kind of hurt. No biggie, but definitely something we want to do differently next time. They start a saline wash and give you the maximum dosage of an anti-nausea pill. (Zofran for me). Then they give it some time to take effect, that was about 10-15 minutes. I was able to breeze through some back issues of People magazine. I must live in a cave, because half the people in the magazine I've never heard of! Then they come and make sure your name is the name on the bag of chemotherapy drug. You verify it, they pop it in and you sit there for an hour or so for it to pump into your body. This time, they started me off a bit slower, but faster than last time. After about an hour, they change bags with the other chemo drug you are prescribed. When it's done, they do a little saline wash, take out the IV and you are on your way.

This may sound bad, but I actually enjoy these visits. I don't have to worry about anyone else but ME. I can do whatever I want. I can read what I want. I can watch TV if I want. I can snooze. I can listen to my iPod. I don't have to worry about kids, diapers, or any of the daily minutiae that being a mom entails. I can relax knowing that Jean-Marc is having fun with Grandma, the others are in school, and its all good. I drove myself today and felt fine to drive home. I told Eric I would call him if I felt weird, but I was fine. No dizziness or nausea.

When we all got home, Jean-Marc was acting kind of weird. He had been outside and active all morning, so we knew he was tired and hungry. I made him what he asked for: PB&J. (Organic everything on whole wheat). He only ate a few bites and started crying, "pee pee, pee pee" and grabbing at his crotch. I asked if he wanted to sit on the potty, but he said "eat, eat." Okay. He just was fussy and didn't eat much. I figured he was too tired--it was close to 1:00 p.m. by then.

I took him upstairs and changed him, and he wasn't wet at all. I kissed him and put him down for his nap. He laid right down and I figured he was out for a few hours.

Mom and I went to the San Marcos Brewery. I thought the chicken tortilla soup sounded good. While we were there, I got a call from Eric that Jean-Marc woke up panicky, sweaty, and crying. He took his temperature, but it was normal. He let him play in his room for about an hour and he finally got down around 2:30 p.m.

Still, he was acting strange about food and elimination all day. I wonder if he has a tummy bug? His hives have gone away. Now this. Poor kid. When he woke up, he did have a normal dinner. One of his favorites, Trader Joes Chicken Noodle soup. Hopefully, he'll keep it down and have a good sleep tonight.

I came home and made a recipe from my new cookbook. It's Creamy Broccoli Potato soup. I've got it all blended up, it just needs to be reheated when we are ready. I hope its good.

How am I feeling? I am a little tired. But it is the end of the day, so that isn't unusual. I have moments of funky stomach. I think I'll take a Zofran before dinner. I don't feel super hungry, but I think the soup will hit the spot. Other than that, I feel pretty normal. I'm drinking TONS of water to help the chemo drugs circulate. I've easily had about 100 ounces today, and I don't feel waterlogged. In fact, I could drink more. It's great how your body will tell you what you need if you just listen to it.

My prayer requests:

• That Jean-Marc be healthy. Its a worry when a little kid can't verbalize what is going on that is distressing them. Pray that he is okay and HEALTHY.
• That I am able to tolerate this round of chemo as well as the last. Starting with a good night of sleep tonight.
• That these drugs do their job. INFILTRATE AND DESTROY!

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.

Surgery, part one

"Cancer is like you don't know how to skydive. Then, you are on a plane. All of a sudden, someone straps a parashoot on your waist and they push you out. Then, you have to go through the trial of teaching yourself how." -Isabelle Jamois, age 8

After three agonizing weeks, the day had finally come. Thankfully, (and an answer to prayer), I was able to get sleep the night before. I woke up around 5:40 a.m. and jumped into the shower. My surgeon had given me an antiseptic cleanser called Hibiclens to scrub my upper torso with. When I squirted it out onto the washcloth, I was taken aback by the pinkish red color. Yikes! A nice cool blue would have been better. The red just focused me on what was to come. It was hard to say goodbye to the kids. Isabelle was pretty upset. I found out later that she really was afraid I was going to die that day. As I left, I realized the outfit she had chosen to wear was...pink and plaid! I took her picture as she struck a fighting pose.

My mom and dad met us at the hospital. My check-in time was 9:00 a.m. The four of us went into the pre-op check in waiting room and handed the employee my Kaiser card. He was a funny man, bald and effeminate. I actually remember him from Jean-Marc's surgery there over a year ago. I saw a sign on the wall that said only 1 person could come into pre-op with the patient.

Thus began the debate...who would it be? Dad gracefully bowed out for personal reasons. ;-) That left mom and Eric. Eric said it was up to me. What?! Another decision to make? Before we could talk further, my name was called. I gave my dad a hug, thinking that this was it. The lady nicely corrected us...this was just an admission interview. I went into the room, where I gave her my Advance Health Care Directive. One thing I just love about Kaiser is their electronic records. She faxed the Directive over to medical records, and it will be part of my e-records. I went back out into the waiting room until they called my name.

As it turned out, I was to go back into pre-op by myself. Once I was into a gown and situated, then one person at a time could come and sit with me while I waited for my turn. I was shown into a large room with gurneys lining both sides. There were curtains that could be pulled around each gurney. I remembered the room from Jean-Marc's hernia surgery. In fact, I was in the little cubicle next to where I sat with him. The nurse gave me a heavy paperlike gown to put on, some socks for my feet, and a shower cap for my head. She told me to "take everything off." It was kind of hard to do that, even with the curtains pulled. There were other people in the room that I could see through the cracks. I knew if I could see them, then they could see me. Whatever. They weren't looking anyway. I got "dressed" and got into my gurney.

After several minutes, one of the anesthesiologists came to have a pre-operative discussion with me. She went over my medical history. As I told her, until now, my medical history has been relatively boring. She noted in my medical records my cesarean. She looked at me and said, "Oh yes, you are so little you probably couldn't push a baby out." I nicely told her that I had actually pushed two babies out after my cesarean, thank you very much. She asked if I had any questions. I shared with her one concern that I had and told her about my friend who went through a bilateral mastectomy last year. (Many of you reading this know who I'm talking about.) During her surgery, the anesthesiologist did not notice that the IV that was placed in her ankle had slipped out and infiltrated her foot. She suffered terribly from a swollen foot, needed skin grafts, and went through a lot of needless pain. She made a note of it in my record and promised me that they would be very careful with everything.

Another lady came in to give me my IV. Every new person that would interact with me would ask me what procedure I was having. I kept having to say, "I am having a bilateral mastectomy." Say that 10 times fast. Actually, I was having a modified radical mastectomy on the left and a simple mastectomy on the right. The IV lady was apologetic about the job she was there to do. I knew that it would probably be the worst part of the whole thing for me. I've had IVs in the front of my hand before and they hurt. I was not looking forward to it. I just repeated in my head, "God, please don't let this hurt." She wrapped the rubber tube around my arm and started thumping on my hand to "scare out" a vein. I felt the cold wetness of the antiseptic swab and readied myself for the poke, trying to do some deep breathing to relax. Then I heard her pulling tape. It was done! I hadn't felt a thing. Thank you Jesus for the immediate answer to prayer! The fluids that went into my hand were cold. I wondered if chemo would feel that way later.

Eric came in shortly after that to keep me company. There really isn't much to do but sit there

and wait in pre-op. My surgery was scheduled for 11 a.m. We had about an hour to wait. There is a TV in each little cubicle, but that's about it. One of the nurses asked me if I needed anything to relax. I told her I didn't, really. She looked at me kind of strange and said, "Not even a little bit?" She said she wouldn't give me much, just like having a glass of wine. Hmm. A glass of wine. I told her to go ahead. Eric and I chatted awhile and then he went to get my mom to come and keep me company. My surgeon came in and I asked her if she had her Wheaties that morning. She was in good spirits and seemed very confident. She marked my chest with her initials and noted the side with the cancer. She said it would be about a 3 1/2 -4 hour surgery. She would find my family to fill them in on how it went afterwards, but it would still be a couple hours before I was out of recovery. They had a long day of waiting ahead of them. Then she was gone.

All we had to do was wait. I turned my TV onto Fox News and we just watched. I kept thinking...at any time, someone in scrubs is going to come in and say it's time. Ack! It was interesting eavesdropping on the other people around us too. The guy directly across from me was having some kind of foot surgery and was nasty and combative with everyone. That didn't seem like a good strategy to me. The lady next to me came in self-sedated. By then, the little "glass of wine" that I had been given was worn off. It was okay, I didn't really need anything more. I thought about asking, just for the heck of it. I started to worry about my bladder. I had gone to the restroom right before putting the paper gown on. I was sitting on a chux pad on the bed. They didn't mention whether or not they would be catheterizing me. Was the chux pad because they expected me to wet all over the place? How gross would that be? By then, I kind of had to go again. Just in case. So we buzzed the nurse who came in and "unhooked" me from some of the machines. Mom helped me cover myself and hobble over to the bathroom, hooked to the IV. Better safe than sorry, right?

As it turned out, the particular operating room I was scheduled for was running behind. A little after 11 a.m., Eric came back in to see what was going on. He expected my mom to be out in the waiting room with them again. Soon after that, yet another doctor came in. This was the anesthesiologist that was going to be with me in the operating room. It was good that Eric was there, because he wanted to ask her about the particular drugs that they would be using on me. I didn't particularly care, as long as I was asleep.

As they chatted, a nurse in scrubs with a shower cap came in and introduced herself. She was the surgical nurse who would be taking me to the OR. It was time. The goodbyes with Eric and my mom were fairly quick. Everyone knew what they had to do. They wheeled me out of the big pre-op room and down into a maze of hallways. I heard them say we were headed to OR #3. The room itself did not seem that large. I was introduced to 2 other people with scrubs and masks on. They were going to be helping with the equipment. The pushed my gurney up next to the OR table and leveled them off so I could slide myself onto the operating table. It was narrower than the gurney. They were also debating what size surgical camisole I should get. They decided on medium, I think. (Hey-what about me being small?) They joked about how it wasn't exactly "Victorias Secret" and held it up. I told them they should dye them pink. That would make sense for breast cancer, wouldn't it?

Everyone was very busy. The nurse started putting my arms on what was probably extensions of the table that made my arms extend outward. My surgeon came in and started briefing the team on what was going to be happening. She said they would be starting on the left side. The anesthesiologist asked if she should get started, and Dr. Khoe agreed it was time to put me out. She put a mask over my face and told me to take some deep breaths. As I mentioned in my last post, I remembered God's promise from Psalm 91. I knew He was with me, and was giving His angels charge over me. Then I was out.

Done all I can do

I've done everything needed to have this surgery happen. I went in for 2 chest X-rays yesterday at Kaiser in San Marcos. No appointment was necessary. It was a breeze. I walked in, paid the $10 cost share and they took me right in. I was in and out in 10 minutes. The tech asked me if there was any chance I was pregnant. No, sir. Then he asked me if I was having regular periods. I said yes. (In my mind, I thought....for now.) He asked if I was done with childbearing or did I want to shield my ovaries. Hmm. I replied that those days were most likely over.

I'm not sure if I've blogged about it, but chemotherapy is very likely to put me into menopause. Even if it doesn't, my oncologist said that it may be advisable to make it happen anyway. I'm not sure how they would do that short of taking out my ovaries and other reproductive organs. I'm not going to think too much about that right now. As Scarlett would say, "I'll think about that tomorrow."

I'm just marking time right now, trying to get the household organized and caught up so I can take several weeks "off." It felt good yesterday to go through the finances and paperwork. I reviewed our Fidelity portfolios and updated them per the latest issue of Sound Mind Investing. I cleared out my "inbox" and threw away a lot of expired stuff. When we moved into this house, my new neighbor mentioned she had a cleaning lady that she loved. Eric has given me the green light to get some help in that department. (A perk of having cancer, I suppose.) I had her come over yesterday and give me a quote. She starts Monday! Right in time for my mother in law's arrival on Tuesday.

I drafted my Advance Health Care Directive yesterday. I took it to the UPS store to get it notarized. I'll take it with me on the day of surgery. I also did a simple will. We haven't done our family trust yet. My bad. But I do feel like it would be prudent to have at least a basic will in place, particularly for guardianship of the kids. As far as the property goes, I am fine with the way California would distribute it if I didn't have a will. Besides, it can always be revoked later when I get around to doing our trust. I just need to get two witnesses to watch me sign the will. It's weird drafting your own will. I've done it for others and it wasn't strange at all. I'm not expecting to need it anytime soon!

Tomorrow I'm driving up to meet my best friend from childhood at Glen Ivy Hot Springs. I've booked a massage that I am really looking forward to. Hopefully it won't be too hot to enjoy Club Mudd afterwards! But the best part will be to hang out with a dear friend and visit.

I didn't sleep very well last night. I woke up at 1:15 a.m. covered in sweat. It was so hot last night, even with the windows open. As usual, I couldn't get back to sleep right away. So I spent the next few hours tossing and turning, with dozens of random thoughts popping into my head. One thing is for sure. Next week when I am post-op, I am not going to suffer the heat on top of camisoles and oozing drains. We have air conditioning, and I plan to use it if necessary.

My prayer requests today:

• As always, that this cancer does not spread. It is kind of scary knowing, but not really knowing the extent of it. I'm dreading the pathology report.
• That tonight be a better night for sleep.
• That Olivier enjoy his last day at boy scout camp. Last year, I went up on Friday night and joined them for dinner. But the drive home was a bit scary. I didn't even think of going this year. I hope he's not disappointed that I'm not going. I hope he's had a good week and enjoys this last night.

Thank you all for sticking with me. This post has been a bit of a rambly, stream of consciousness thing. It reminds me a bit of the random thoughts I had in the middle of the night. Unfocused and unorganized!

The MRI

I went in for my MRI today to UCSD in Hillcrest.

I've never had an MRI before. I had heard that it was noisy and I had to lay still. That was pretty much all I knew going in.

When I walked into the building, it was freezing. I was wearing shorts. Silly me. I thought to myself, okay. I can deal with lying still. I can deal with being in the enclosed space. Freezing my bootie off would make it unpleasant! There was a lot of paperwork on my medical history to fill out. I'm thankful for having everything stored in my iPhone-the date of my biopsy, diagnosis and last menstrual period were all easily accessible.

The worker led me to a secondary waiting area with some magazines and a TV that was tuned to a sports channel. I did get to see playbacks of the USA victory in the World Cup. That was neat. There was a man there waiting. I wasn't sure if he was the patient at that point. But later a woman came out and they left together. After a few minutes, I was led to a changing room and given 2 hospital gowns to change into. One open in the front, and one in the back. That helped with my sensitivity to the temperature. She also gave me some non-slip booties to wear. I changed, locked up my purse and waited.

I flipped through a "Woman's Health" magazine. I saw an interesting ad from Ford motor company advertising "Warriors in Pink." The name caught my eye because of this blog's title. I thought.....hey! That's me! I'm a warrior in pink! (And plaid). I'm not sure what all it was, but they have some some merchandise that they sell and donate the proceeds to the Susan G. Komen foundation. I made a mental note to check the website out later. I also read an article about the actress Christina Applegate who had a double mastectomy for breast cancer. But she is alive and kicking, telling her story. Good for her!

The double doors opened and another lady in scrubs came out. She gave me an IV. I didn't realize I would be getting poked. Not a big deal, the anticipation of the poke is the worst. I asked her what it was for and she said it was for the "contrast." Hmm. Maybe I should have read a bit about MRIs before coming. After the poke, she said I might taste salt. Right after she said that I did. Wierd. She led me into the MRI room which was already buzzing. She gave me some earplugs and asked if I had any breast surgery or biopsies. Surgeries....not yet. Biopsies, yes. She had me put little stickers on the 2 spots that had been biopsied and had me lay down on my stomach on the bed of the machine.

There was a trick to it though. I had to lie down on my stomach, but there were 2 holes for my breasts to fall into, and my arms had to be up over my head. It felt kind of funny positioning myself in such a way. Thank God there was a warm sheet over it all so I didn't feel that exposed. She put some pillows under my head and said I would have to be very still. No surprise there. But as I tried to get my head comfortable twisted to the right, the pillow would cover my nose and make it hard to breathe. I started to panic a bit--I had to breathe! She saw me fidgeting and asked if I wanted one of the pillows taken away. Yes! Having only 1 pillow under my head made it possible to breathe and not panic.

Then it began. The bed was advanced into the machine, putting me right in there. She put an emergency button in my hand just in case I freaked out. I heard her on a loudspeaker telling me we were getting started. The buzzing that had been kind of a pleasant "white noise" in the background became a whirring, clanking. From time to time, the noise would change to rattles.

I knew it was key to stay calm and relax. On the way down to the appointment, I thought that I would use the time praying. I tried that, but the loud noises made it difficult for me to concentrate on my end of the dialog. What helped me the most was to simply sing worship songs in my head. Some of the words I sang to the Lord:

"No more sin, and no more shame.

We are going where the streets are made of gold.

No more tears, for they are wiped away.

We are going where the streets are made of gold.

And if we just could see

One glimpse of what will be

We'd run to win this race

Living our lives by faith....

Because heaven is our home

Where we'll reign forever

Shining like the sun

with our King forever

Every sorrow gone,

we'll rejoice forever

Heaven is our home. Heaven is our home!"

"Blessed be your name

When the sun's shining down on me

when the world's all as it should be

Blessed be your name.

And blessed be your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be your name

Every blessing you pour out, I'll turn into praise

When the darkness closes in Lord, still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord!"

Pretty soon, the lady came in and said it was time for the "contrast." She fiddled with the IV in my arm and I again could taste a metallic salty sensation. The line that was under my hand also got cold. She said they would take 2 more images, which would be about 5 more minutes each.

At this point when the machine started its clanking and whirring, I mentally sang:

"You are faithful!

You are faithful!

You are faithful, Your joy is my strength."

Pretty soon it was over. I got up, she took out the IV and I was led back into the waiting room to change back into my clothes in the adjacent changing room. After I took off the hospital gowns, my cell phone rang. I've learned to always pick up--it could be a doctor's office or something trying to call. Not this time. It was Honda of Escondido. A few weeks ago, I had made a service appointment to get XM radio put into my Odyssey. I had to cancel the appointment last week because of doctor visits. Honda wanted to know if we still wanted the parts they had for it.

I'm standing there in my underwear, just having had an MRI to see how big my cancerous tumors were and this lady wants to know about car parts? I just laid it out there. I told her that we had to cancel the appointment for service because, "frankly, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and our summer plans kind of changed." She was apologetic. I'm sure she wasn't expecting to hear that. (It's kind of like when people ask me politely, "How are you today?" Do they really want to know? For people who know the situation, right now I'll say, "Other than the cancer, I feel great!")

Anyway, I got changed and was done. I had to drop off the mammogram films that I had carried from Kasier to the UCSD radiology department for them to digitize and give back to me. That took about a half an hour. Sadly, there was no wifi in that part of the hospital. So I got to watch and re-watch the USA winning goal.

It all took a bit longer than I had expected. But I am glad to have done something tangible in the battle today.

Next on the warrior's agenda....the oncologist on Friday. Pray that this person be the right oncologist for me. I also ask for prayers for clarity in decision making. Thank you all for your support.

Calls, calls, calls

My week is is such a flux! Today I spent a fair amount of time on the phone trying to sort out my next week's medical schedule. Man! Being a cancer patient is almost a full time job.

I got my MRI scheduled for Wednesday morning down in Hillcrest. The tricky part with that is that I need to hand carry my mammograms. I called Kaiser's X-Ray department last Wednesday to order them. They said it would be 3-5 working days. I'm hoping to be able to pick them up tomorrow (Tuesday), the day before the appointment. That would also let me go down to the American Cancer Society (ACS) Discovery shop and pick out a wig. Yes, a wig. ACS gives a free wig to chemotherapy patients. Goody. I'll take all the freebies I can get. Mom and Isabelle want to go with me to help me pick out something not too lame. Sweet Isabelle. Hopefully that will be my Tuesday afternoon. (Hee hee---I'll be able to work out in the morning!)

I tried to get Friday's chemo consultation moved up earlier, but so far there aren't any openings. I suppose this isn't like getting one's teeth cleaned. Not many cancellations. I just pray that this doctor is "the one." I pray that he is kind, sensitive, and knows his stuff. I'll keep calling to see if I can get in earlier. I'd love to have chemo ASAP to start kicking those cancer cells butts.

I've been getting the run around a bit to get my mammograms from the X-Ray department. I'm still waiting on a return call from them. If I don't hear by 4:30 p.m., (about 30 minutes from now), I'll call again.

I've also been referred to the genetics department. They sent me a family history form to fill out. Cool! Who knew my knowledge of family history would come in handy? Just another example of how God has prepared me for this fight. That appointment is a week from Wednesday (the 30th). If they think I should be tested, they will test for 2 known breast cancer genes. If I have them (or maybe even 1), they may suggest a bilateral mastectomy. The surgeon told me last week that a bilateral mastectomy would make the chances 95% that the cancer would not show up on the right side in the future. We'll see. The genetics stuff is interesting, just not a priority right now.

There is a nice program the American Cancer Society has called "Look Good, Feel Better." It's for chemotherapy patients. It basically is a 2 hour workshop with cosmologists that includes a skin care and makeup program, as well as instructions on options relating to hair loss. I guess they teach you how to tie the head scarves. (I wonder if I can wear some of my Hermes scarves that way?) They also send you home with free makeup. I'm there! Like I said, I'll take all the freebies I can. I called them today also and signed up for a session next Monday.

I've also left messages with the breast care coordinator and an e-mail message to my surgeon about the PET scan results. Eek. I will admit that I am scared to find out that one.

That is a huge prayer request for me right now--that the cancer has not spread. Pray too that I not be fearful. Yesterday in church, we sang a song about leaving our fears behind and casting our cares aside to focus on TODAY, the day that the Lord has made. It's a great song. So easy to sing those words...not so easy to live it.