Happy Thanksgiving

To all my American readers, family and friends - I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving. There is so much to be grateful for this year - friends and family who have stepped up to the plate (no Thanksgiving pun intended), including many who surprised me with their caring. Coworkers who put up with my distraction and absences and family who have taken on the bulk of the work that I used to do. I'm grateful for the new friends I've made through this cancer experience. And, I'm very thankful for medical researchers who created the targeted drug, herceptin, that will allow me to have many more Thanksgivings.

Eat lots of turkey and pie, and enjoy your family and your day. I leave you with one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories:



A good rickroll never gets old.

H1N1

I am always impressed with how efficient the government is. Especially the California government. And, most especially the Sacramento County government. Everything runs so smoothly here, you would not believe it. It's all a Swiss clock and the trains run on time too.

Okay, we don't really have trains. And, there are lots of potholes in the streets and the traffic lights don't synch and the cops won't come unless somebody pulls a gun on you and even then it takes an hour. But, you know what I mean.

Naturally, when I found out that the government was going to dole out the H1N1 vaccination instead of doctors, I was thrilled. After all, what do physicians know about who should get the swine flu shot? Why should they make that health care decision, when the government is perfectly capable of deciding for them?

And really, why would I even want to get it from my oncologist in his office when I can get it at a homeless shelter surrounded by thousands of citizens and injected by county health workers?

This vaccine is in short-supply. So, it would seem that each city is given an allotment and are left to individually decide how to handle the distribution.

Some of the more inefficient cities distributed it to medical personnel and hospitals. Some gave it to Walgreens Pharmacies. Some gave it to large employers and universities, some distributed it in schools and some did a combination of things.

Sacramento decided that they were going to open clinics in various homeless shelters, community centers, and churches throughout the city every other day or so. Only those people designated "high risk" were to get the shot for the first few clinics.

High risk means pregnant women, healthcare/EMS workers, people caring for babies under 6 months, and adults 24-64 with specific medical conditions (including those who will undergo chemotherapy)

But as our local newspaper wisely reported - it's all on the honor system. Nobody actually has to have any kind of proof they are in the high risk category - nobody will check. All you have to do is say you have a condition and bam! Needle in the arm.

Thank God the newspaper published that tidbit, just in case somebody didn't think of it on their own.

Along with that helpful advice, the paper published the dates and times of the clinics. I start chemo December 2nd and am supposed to get my shot two weeks before. There was a clinic near me, Saturday the 21st, which was the last one available to high risk people (or those willing to lie). It was 11 days from my chemo date so I was cutting it close but it was the only one I could get to in between doctors appointments. I marked my calendar, dreading it, because reports were that over 5000 plus people were showing up, but I work in a school, if I want to go back I have to brave the crowds.

So, I'm hanging around the house last Thursday listening to the radio, and suddenly my ears swiveled towards the radio like a cat's. The weekend flu clinics were being canceled due to rain, a decision made by our public health officer Glennah Trochet. The exact quote - and you can't make this up - is that the county health department was worried somebody might slip on the sidewalk.

I kid you not.

I checked the forecast, figuring we were in for a huge early-season storm.

The forecast? 54 and 20% chance of showers.

Honestly, I'm so impressed. The government is so concerned about our health that they aren't going to allow cancer patients to get the shot in time for chemo - because we might slip on the sidewalk.

Is that efficient, or what? Thank GOD they didn't dole it out to oncologists or other doctors - why, we foolish people might have gone out in the rain to get the shot!

It's too bad private business aren't as concerned about our health. After all, the Sacramento Kings play on rainy nights, the B Street Theater insists the show must go on in spite of any rain, concerts continue on days of precipitation - even those limp-wristed San Franciscans don't cancel outdoor 49er games on rainy days.

I think we should all boycott these businesses because they clearly don't care about us.

So now, I'm left with a dilemma. I can go to the next one in my area, but risk getting it only 8 days before chemo - or chance not getting the shot at all.

If I wasn't a school employee, I'd have skipped it. But at some point I'm going back to work, and it'll probably be at the height of the flu season and teachers don't seem to go home sick - they just come in my office and cough on me. So, I picked November 24, although it's listed as open to anybody, and I knew the lines would be huge.

Today is the 24th and I got back not long ago. And, because I work for the government myself, and feel kinda tired now, I'll relate my vaccination experience later, when I feel like it.

How is that for efficient?

By the way, we got a whole 1/10th of an inch of rain the weekend they canceled the clinic, so it was clearly the right decision. My husband and I bucked the danger and went out to brunch. We are super-adventurous types. Amazingly, neither of us slipped.

Or even got our hair wet.




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Life without cleavage

Did you know that if you drop popcorn down your blouse after mastectomy, there is nothing there to stop its descent, and you have to reach down to your belly button to dig it out?

Maybe I should skip the movies for a while.


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First Tissue Expander Fill

I had an appointment with my plastic surgeon to get my first "fill.' This is a process that will go on for about a year - every three weeks or so, he will inject the tissue expander under my mastectomy site with saline. This will stretch the skin and muscle enough to allow for an implant.

If you are anything like me, you love to watch those surgery shows. I'm particularly fascinated with the ones where they separate conjoined twins. To make sure they have enough skin to cover the areas of separation after the surgery, they use the same type of tissue expander I have.

I'll never forget some sweet little babies joined at the head who had one of these things - at the end of their expansion it looked they had three heads.

That's what my breastical area will end up looking like - a big baby head. They have to over-expand it to try and get a sagging match on the other side. For a time, I'll have a baby head on the right and a small, saggy real breast on the left. Getting dressed is going to be fun.

Anyway, the procedure went smoothly. He took out a device, I think it's a magnet of some sort, to find the area in the tissue expander to insert the needle. I was concerned because no numbing agent is used and there are random spots on my skin where I have sensation - fortunately, the opening is not under one of those spots.

He asked me if I wanted to be conservative or go for broke - I said broke. The needle went in and they started pumping in the saline.

It was like a mission control countdown. The nurse was urgently calling out, "10 cc's." "20 cc's." "30 cc's" The doctor put my hand on my skin so I could feel it rise with each cc. I could feel the muscle and skin get tighter and tighter and about 80ccs I could feel tension in my arm, so that is where we stopped.

The nurse told me that night I would feel like I had done 200 push-ups.

I can't relate.

The doctor stated that sometimes people go up to 200 cc's their first fill. I guess that means I didn't do very well. I'm a TE expansion failure. However, asking around on the breast cancer forums, nobody has gotten that much so maybe his regular clientele are the type of women who can relate to what it feels like to do 200 push-ups.

I'm the kind who can relate to the after-effects of a big shopping trip and carrying an armload of clothing. Ouch!

I experienced almost no pain that night - slight soreness and my usual muscle weakness. Next time, I'll ignore the arm stretching and try for 100 cc's.

Now, please excuse me. I'm off to get one of my son's super strong magnets to see if I can find this injection area myself and stick a magnet to me.

Ann, the walking refrigerator.

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Quick note

Now that Christmas shopping season is right around the corner, I wanted to point something out to you.

Look over to the right -------------------------->

See that Amazon box right there? If you are going to buy anything from Amazon this holiday season - or anytime actually - and you use that search to find your item, I get 4% of the proceeds. It helps me, and doesn't hurt you. I can see what items are purchased but cannot see who bought them. So, if you have an embarrassing love for Pork Feet, your secret is safe with me.

Better yet, buy a kindle. You'll love it, I promise.


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Get your mammograms, and feel yourself up

Originally, I set up this blog as a way to keep my family and friends in the loop about my treatment. I dislike talking on the phone and the thought of making and answering numerous phone calls giving the same details repeatedly seemed like one of the more unpleasant side effects of cancer. A blog is a clean and simple way for people to get the information they want - without bugging me or interrupting my nap.

Guess I'm not a people person.

It appears that more than my personal acquaintances have found this blog. It's gratifying to know that I have regular readers who like my writing and/or are interested in hearing about my experience with cancer. More than just letting family and friends know I'm alive, I hope it helps other women who are coming to terms with their diagnosis to know that you can get through it with your self intact.

Well, mostly intact anyway.

Although I have strong opinions about certain subjects, I never intended this blog to get political, and since I don't intend to live in Cancer World forever, you won't see me going on pink walks or urging people to raise money for breast cancer. (My favorite charity is still the Make-a-Wish Foundation.) I'm certainly not going to make the rest of my life about this disease. When I'm done with treatment, this blog will be done too.

Unless somebody pays me. Then all bets are off.

So, I was thinking I would ignore the news about the government recommendation that women not get mammograms until age 50, and oh, by the way, self-exams do no good.

But, then I realized I did have something to say about this.

Dear Government Advisory Board: What the FUCK are you thinking?

Excuse my French. Or, perhaps that's what they are thinking? They are urging women to surrender, like the French.

I am 51. I found my lump one month after turning 51. Guesstimates are this cancer has been growing in me for 8 years or so. Had I gotten my mammograms, as my insurance company kept nagging me to do, it's possible I would have found this in my 40s. It's possible I wouldn't have needed mastectomy or chemotherapy either. I might have gotten away with a lumpectomy, a month of radiation, and then gone about my life, boobs intact, and never having had the experience of shopping for a wig.

I have 7 years of treatment ahead of me. At what I can only guess is considerable cost to my insurance company.

My choice not to get mammograms was my own. I made my bed, and I'm lying in it, and not very comfortably after tissue expander placement, I might add. I had my reasons, and I don't regret it. However, not having mammograms was MY CHOICE. If that choice is taken away from millions of women and they cannot get mammograms, many will find their cancers at a later date, causing a situation such as I'm experiencing. Or worse. Much worse. Many will already have metastatic disease, and will die.

Mammography is not perfect. I have dense breasts - the test doesn't work that well for dense breasts. After my main cancerous lump became large and I had my mammogram, it did see that lump. It saw none of the other tumors lurking around. It's possible that had I gone in my 40s, my mammogram would have shown nothing. I recognize that fact.

But the opportunity should be there. In fact, my recommendation, which would be far too sensible for any government bureaucrat to make, would be to give women with dense breasts a sonogram in addition to their mammogram - 100% of the time.

The argument that women suffer from frightening experiences with mammograms, or suffer needless biopsies that cause them extreme stress and therefore these tests should not be done is incredibly insulting. It harkens back to the Victorian age. Women are strong enough to take a little pinprick, I promise you. If we can get our breasts cut off, lose our hair, have radiation to our bodies, have poisons pumped through us for months at a time, while raising children and going to work - AND do it with the grace and humor I have seen displayed by my new cancer buddies - then they can handle a squished breast and a needle removing some tissue.

Women are not delicate little flowers that require smelling salts if somebody speaks, um, French.

So, what is the purpose of these new guidelines? A skeptic might say this is the beginning of Obamacare and government-rationed health care. Leave it to the government to try to save a little and end up costing a lot. These are the people who run FEMA and the IRS after all - they are not going to do what is best for you or the bottom line. They are going to do whatever the special-interest group that pays for their latest Hawaiian trip wants.

Been able to get your H1N1 flu shot from your doctor yet? Hmmmm??

This advisory group also based their recommendation on old technology - not the new digital mammography. How quaint and government-like. Can you say mainframe, anybody? Cobol? I thought you could. Sensible people would recommend that digital mammography would be the way to go, not that women shouldn't get any mammograms.

My understanding from a friend who lives in the UK, is these are the same guidelines that exist in Europe - where the death rate of breast cancer is much higher than here in the US.

I am sure these guidelines will not be followed - not as long as we have private insurance anyway. Insurance companies will reject them as it is far more costly to treat invasive and/or metastatic cancers than early cancers.

But, if this recommendation is ever implemented - listen up. I have a work-around. The recommendation is that if you are under 50, you should discuss the need for mammography with your physician, and then he can set up the test against the new guidelines, if he thinks you will benefit.

I recommend you woman all lie and say you have a sister or mother who has had breast cancer. That immediately puts you in a risk group, and you'll get your test.

If you need a sister/mom stand in to vouch for your honesty, I volunteer.

I have no problems lying to the government. Except on my tax return, of course. I'd never lie on that.

So ladies. Feel yourself up, early and often. Get your mammograms. And, if you have dense breasts and have been told that mammography doesn't work well for you, as I was told - then insist on a sonogram. Make a scene until you get one. Lie if you have to. I had no idea until I had a lump that breasts could be sonogrammed to find cancer, or who knows, I might not be a uniboober right now.

Now excuse me, I'm going to go practice my French.


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Meet my boob

Or, in breast cancer vernacular, my "foob."

At some point after surgery, you are going to have to leave your house, even if you are lazy as hell, like me. If nothing else, you'll have lots and lots of doctor's appointments, so you'll really have no choice.

I'm pretty sure doctors don't make housecalls any longer.

Making a public appearance presents a dilemma for those of us who are rocking the uniboob look. The women who had a double mastectomy can just walk around and pretend they've always been flat-chested. Somebody is an A-, right? But, we uniboobers don't have that luxury.

So, what to do?

I didn't want to get a real prosthesis, because eventually I will have a reconstructed breast. I figured the old sock trick would work, but socks are scratchy and don't feel good against mastectomy scars. Cotton balls keep falling out. Fortunately, I was given a mastectomy camisole. Within that mastectomy camisole came some padding inside a pocket in the top. The camisole didn't provide enough support for my good side to wear regularly, so I decided just to pull the padding out and see if it'd work in a regular, unpocketed bra.

The padding, now known officially as my foob, fortuitously came with an opening in the back. You can pull the stuffing right out of it, to make it match your other side. And, as you go through the fill process, you can pull more and more stuffing out to get the best match. Not only that, but if you turn it right side up, you get a perky boob. If you turn it upside down, you get a saggier boob.

I'll leave you to guess which way I turn it.

As I mentioned in my post about post-mastectomy purchase recommendations, I bought some Spanx Bra-lleluja all-hosiery bras. No, these bra-lleluja's are not lacy little confections that peek out under your clothing, making any man who catches a glimpse lose his mind with the desire to see what else is under there.

Trust me, he'd be sorely disappointed if he did see what else is under there.

Although, I have heard of amputation fetishes, so maybe you'd get lucky enough to find that guy.

What these bras are is super comfortable on scars, on nerve-damaged skin and easy on/easy off with no reaching around the back. And, they have a large cup area, for a foob. No chance of it falling out, even without a pocket.

It's working beautifully. I have a near perfect match. The only problem is sometimes it tends to ride up to the top of the bra and I get slightly uneven results, which I'm sure only I notice. And, if you see me and notice, please don't destroy my illusions. I've found wearing patterned shirts offsets some of the discordancy when creepage occurs.

Maybe a little clothing tape will fix it, I haven't tried that yet.

Meet my foob:



Oh wait, something is missing.



Yes, that is a skittle. We mastectomy patients are nothing if not resourceful.

I only wish I'd had some pepperoni for the areola. Maybe we'll have pizza tonight.


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