Contest Winner Announced!

Below is a video with the big drawing for the book, "Promises to Keep" by Jane Green.



Congratulations to the winner!

Anybody else who wants the book, Promises to Keep, you can purchase it from Amazon. Use that link and I get 4%.

Love to all the veterans today. Thank you for your service to our country.

What Reconstruction Surgery is Not

"At least you'll have nice, perky boobs forever!"

Some mastectomy patients who are about to undergo implant reconstruction get offended when people say that to them.  Not me.  Being an 80 year old lady with high, perky boobs has been my lifelong goal.  I've always been hot for the centenarian and what better way to attract one?.

Now, living to 80 with any kind of boobs is the goal.  Amazing how priorities change.

Really, I know people who say this are just trying to look at a positive, or else they really don't understand the difference between augmentation and reconstruction. They haven't seen the hundreds of "after" pictures that me, the cancer patient, has after all.  If anything, they've googled and come across the very best example a plastic surgeon has to show - very few of which reflect norrmal results.

Except for the use of an implant to recreate a shape, there is no comparison between reconstruction after mastectomy and a boob job..

Here is an analogy.  Have you seen photos of that woman who had the middle of her face shot off and received the first US face transplant?

It's remarkable that plastic surgeons gave her a functioning face again, (and her appearance will continue to improve) but wouldn't it sound a bit silly to compare what she has now to, say, a face-lift?

Reconstruction is a surgical technique to attempt to rebuild something lost, but nobody can return a missing body part.  Skin and tissue has been removed; the architecture of the body has changed. Stretching the skin and using an implant may sound like a boob job but the results are not the same because the underlying structures aren't there.  Few of us will ever return to our pre-treatment shape.

Some get close though, even with tissue expander reconstruction.  They are in the minority, but it happens.

I've been warned I will not be among them.  I'm too thin, too much skin was taken.  Plus, I had a unilateral mastectomy and getting a match is always hard.  My doctor has never misled me into thinking I would look the same as I did before, but he seems confident that in a bra, I can wear clothes and look relatively normal.

The key is to remember that I will not look normal for me, but normal for a woman.  In clothes, in a bra.  Not nude.

We'll see.  As surgery approaches,  I've been trying to prepare myself for the worst, but as in all things cancer, hope springs eternal. Maybe my picture will end up on a plastic surgery site, displayed as a best result.

Maybe not.  I better start doing squats and perk my butt up, so my husband has something to look at, just in case.

I came across this picture of a woman who covered her mastectomies with tattooing.  I'm not a fan of tattoos, and I'm way too ADD to ever want to do something permanent on my body,  but this is pretty clever.

Does she walk around shirtless, I wonder?  What is the protocol for a woman who no longer has breasts?  If a big flabby guy with man boobs can mow his lawn shirtless, I would think she and her cute inked top should be able to do it too, don't you?

Reconstruction Surgery Scheduled

And, for the worst possible time, I might add. I will be having my surgery on June 8th, the last week of school for the year.

While this surgery isn't as intense as the first one, I will need a drain, and so I'll need a week recovery time, unless I want to walk around a middle school with bloody bulbs swinging out from under my clothes.

This means an unpaid week off of work. My surgical choices consisted of a date either this year or next school year, and I decided that this year was already shot, so I might as well get it over with. I can recover, get used to my new and not-improved body, and start the year with cancer mostly behind me. Next year, I will just have herceptin every three weeks and a couple of minor revisions (and nipples and tattooing if I choose to do it) that I can schedule whenever.

I'll continue to work several weeks after the students are out, but there are things due the week I'm gone so it's going to be a struggle to accomplish everything in advance.

But, I'll manage.

Book Review - Promises to Keep

I have received a couple of perks as a result of writing this blog, aside from the nice comments I've received from the people who are sharing my experience with me.

For example, one day I opened up my email to find a letter from a publishing house. Naturally, I immediately figured they had come across my blog and were going to offer me a book deal. After all, there are zero books about breast cancer out there and few bloggers have tried to cross over into the publishing world. Why wouldn't they be out searching for unique people like me?

Reality has never been my specialty.

But, after reading the email, I was offered something a lot less work than a book deal. I was offered a copy of the book Promises to Keep, by Jane Green.

I love to read and I like free stuff, so I was super happy.

I was chosen to receive this book because my topic is about breast cancer, and the book is about a family who ends up dealing with breast cancer. The book is not released yet - it will be out in mid-June.

Not only was I given a copy, but I can offer a copy to one of you.

It arrived a week ago but I was in the middle of both Better: A Surgeon's Notes on Performance and Between Here and April. (I liked both)

Sunday, as I was flying back from a quick trip to Chicago (where I discovered I was weaker than I thought), I opened the book. And, I read the entire thing on the flight back. It was a quick read, one of those fantastic summer pool books - that is, if you don't have breast cancer.

If you do, it's slightly disturbing.

It is the story of three woman and their families, initially told from each of their perspectives. There is Steffi, a free-spirited chef who has not settled down yet. Her sister, Callie, is a photographer who is married to the love of her life and who has young children. And, there is Lila, who is Callie's best friend and who at 42, just now finds a man to marry. The book alternates between the lives of these three women and finally comes together when Callie has a metastatic recurrance of breast cancer.

And dies.

This is the disturbing part - the story takes place four years after Callie was declared NED, which means No Evidence of Disease. Suddenly, she finds that her cancer has spread to her brain. (Apparently, we breast cancer patients don't go into remission - we are NED. I haven't quite managed to understand the distinction but NED is a more fanciful word, so I'll stick with it.) Those of us who are "dancing with Ned" may not enjoy a story of somebody who gets run over by Ned.

It's a character study and not a mystery, and while the jacket doesn't tell you what happens in the book, the publishing materials and the author's blog does. So, I don't think I'm giving secrets away when I tell you Callie dies.

Interestingly, the author chose not to tell the story from Callie's point of view after the diagnosis except in a few brief conversations. From that point it's just her sister and her friend - effectively killing her before she even dies. But it does soften the impact of the tale just a bit if you are a reader with cancer.

After reading the book, I have to wonder what went on in the mind of the publishing house marketing team when they decided who should get free promotional books. "Hey, lets find some bloggers who are trying to survive the diagnosis of breast cancer and stay positive about their prognosis, and who are sharing that positivity with others, and give them a book about a breast cancer patient who dies! Her readership are probably breast cancer patients looking for answers, and they may want to read a book about a woman who dies of cancer too!"

It's an interesting marketing tactic.

But, I guess it worked because I'm writing about it.

Okay, if you haven't guessed, the book depressed me. It did bring home the fact that there are many who don't survive this disease. It can come back at any time, especially HER2+ cancer. There are no guarantees that in four years I won't have to start treatment all over again. The possibility exists that I could end up with metastatic disease, and being HER2+, if I do get it, it's also possible it'll show up in the brain. Herceptin doesn't penetrate the blood/brain barrier.

Those are things that I am aware of but have chosen to believe won't happen to me. Although my oncologist won't give me statistics, everything I read says I have a fine chance at a long life, and I believe that.

But, when you read a good book you get inside the heads of the characters. And, inside the head of a family dealing with the death of one of their own from a disease I have, isn't a place I want to be right now. Even though the family missed her daily but survived without her, which is what I'd want my family to do - it's still not something I would typically want to focus on at this phase in my life.

On the up side, the book is mostly told from Steffi's point of view, and being a vegan chef, every chapter closes with a delicious and healthy recipe. I imagine these are the kinds of foods we breast cancer patients should be concentrating on, and I will be making some of these dishes.

I thought this was a good book and a fast-read. Despite the heavy subject matter, it was actually a pretty light book - the cancer stuff didn't happen until the end. It's not high literature, instead it's perfect for sitting by the pool on a hot summer's day or for taking your mind off a plane crash when flying from Chicago to California.

I am allowed to give away a book, and I'm not your mother to tell you what will affect you negatively or won't. If you want a copy, feel free to post a comment below. I will number them all in order of posts, put them in a hat and draw them out. The winner will get the book. You will have to share your address with me, and I will pass it along to the publiser. You can't post anonymously unless you are willing to post something in the text that tells me who you are. First name, last initial should do.

Let's put an end date on this: comments must be received by midnight Cali time May 30st. Maybe I will video the winning results and put it on YouTube and then you can see how awful my hair is.

Six Months Surgical Follow-up

I had my appointment for my six month post-mastectomy follow-up with Rockstar Raja today.  Since I'm still being seen by the oncologist and plastic surgeon, I figured seeing the breast surgeon was superfluous - but I now do what doctors tell me to do.

For the most part, anyway.  My surgery was actually 7 months ago.  Time flies.

I wonder if doctors realize how much we women read into what they say and do?  Here is the examination from my point of view:

He checked out my mastectomized breast and asked me if it hurt.  He seemed amazed when I said it didn't.  

I must be really strong to not feel pain when a doctor thinks I should.

He said, "it's time to get it out of there"  meaning the expander.  Yes, I thought,  the skin is stretched tight.  I told him surgery is tentatively scheduled for June.

Then he did an exam on my remaining girl.

As he did the breast exam he looked concerned and frowned.

Is he concerned about me?  Does he feel something in my breast?

He looked at me and said, "Who is your primary care physician?"

I answered, "Dr. Q."

Dr. Q.  happens to have an office across the hall, and he used to share a practice with Dr. Raja so they know each other very well.

Why does he want to know?  Is there something that he has to talk to him about?  Does he feel a lump? Do I have cancer again?

Dr. Raja looked at the nurse and said, "Is Dr. Q in today, can we get him?"

Oh God!  Something is wrong.  He needs the doctor right now!  Why would he need him now? Does he need pre-approval for a test? He feels something!

The nurse said no, he was out of the office today.

I said, "Is something wrong, do you feel something?"

He said, "It's hard to tell.  When did you have your last mammogram?"

I told him August, when I'd been diagnosed.

Do I need another one right now?  Am I going to go through all this again, just a few weeks after finishing chemo? How can I do this to my boss again? My family?  

He said to have the surgery to get the expander out and then to call my primary care physician and schedule a mammogram for August and make sure he got a copy.

Make sure he got a copy?  Does he think he'll have to plan another surgery?  Oh no, I don't want to do this again!

"I'll see you in six months."  Unless your next mammogram shows cancer, in which case I'll see you in August.

Now, here is the same conversation from what I imagine to be Dr.Raja's perspective:

"Did you have pain with this expander?"

"No, it''s not painful, just a little uncomfortable."

"Well, it looks like it's time to get it out of there."

What has it been, 7 months?  What is the plastic surgeon waiting for, she's clearly as full as she can get.  It will be hard to do proper tests while that is there and she's almost due for her yearly checkup.

Time to do a breast exam on her remaining breast. There is some hardening that is consistent with her previous history of cysts.. 

"Who is your primary care physician?"  I need to remind her to schedule her yearly exam with him.

"Dr. Q."

Oh, Ernie.  I wonder if Ernie is around?  I wanted to talk to him about that poker game this weekend. I wonder if my nurse knows?

"Is Dr. Q in today, can we get him?"

The nurse said no, he was out of the office today.

Darn, it's his turn to bring the beer.

"Is something wrong, do you feel something?"

"It's hard to say."  

You have a history of cysts and I can't tell the difference by feel between cysts and cancer and I'm not going to guess with a patient."

"When did you have your last mammogram?"

"August."

Ah, that's right, it took her a while to be comfortable with a mastectomy as opposed to a lumpectomy.

"Have your surgery to get the expander out and then to call Dr. Q. and schedule a mammogram for August and make sure I got a copy.

Ernie's office staff always forgets to send me information for my records - maybe the patient can help me with that. 

I'll see you in six months.  

I'll see you in six months.

His way sounds so much better, doesn't it?  But, you can see the holes where he left ambiguity with a patient.  And, you can see where I didn't probe enough.  I am not sure "it's hard to tell" is an appropriate answer when it comes to "do you feel something?" but then again,  I am experienced in the ways of breast lumps and I don't feel anything..

In any event, my plan is to see Dr. Raja in November.

Hope for the Best

But prepare for the worst.

I believe, without a doubt, that I will have a long life.  This cancer experience will be put behind me, and just become a story to tell my grandkids.

You know how certain Grandpas like to say, "Pull my finger?"  I think I'll be the grandma that says, "Wanna see my tattoo?"

And, it won't be a little wrinkled butterfly on my ankle.

I know I have an aggressive kind of cancer with a high rate of recurrance, but I also believe Herceptin the Miracle Drug is going to give me many more years to nag my family and gross out my future grandchildren.  I fully expect to be an old lady with a sassy Betty White attitude who complains her kids never come to see her. 

And yet, despite my belief that I'll live a long life,  I was very pleased when I got a message from our HR department.  They are switching insurance companies, and I have a one-time opportunity to purchase life insurance without a medical check-up.

I think I'm going to live a long time.    But, I bought the maximum amount.

I never had life insurance before, except for whatever was free with whatever job I had.  I'm uninsurable now, but before, I was always very teenager-like in my approach to my mortality.  I would rather spend that money on shoes. 

Cancer made me practical.  $35.00 a month for $100,000 in case of my death seems like money well-spent right now.

I don't think this cancer will kill me.  But, the possibility exists.   And, I want my family protected.

A frivolous post on being grey

 This guy is my new hero:

He doesn't care that his hair is grey.

I do.

Of course, his is way longer than mine.  But, I still look cuter in a skirt.

At the risk of being repetitive, I'm going to discuss my hair again.

I know you ladies will understand.

It's very odd that having hair bothers me more than not having hair.   At least when I was bald, I looked like a person undergoing chemotherapy and nobody could blame me for how I looked.  Now though, nobody knows I had cancer treatment. 

People believe that I choose to look like this.  That I buzzed my hair to 1/2 inch and let it be grey because I like it that way.   Maybe they think I decided on a super short pixie cut because I think that is what flatters me, or that I imagine myself to be Halle Berry.

Hopefully, they know I'm female.

Now, I realize that the world is not focused on my hair.  I understand people are not thinking about me, and in fact, likely don't notice me at all.  I certainly don't walk around judging the haircuts of strangers, and I would expect that nobody is doing that to me.

But, that doesn't really matter, does it?.  There is the term "bad hair day" for a reason.  I don't think men have this feeling,  but it's pretty much a universal experience among women.  Having a day when you can't tame that curl, when your hair looks dirty and you don't have time to wash it, when you are overdue for a cut but have been too busy, or just having that morning when no matter what you do you can't get your hair right - well, that "bad" hair can sour our world and make us uncomfortable all day. 

And, I have really bad hair, and I will for a while.

Not only is it short man-hair, but it is starting to vaguely curl.  I had curly hair before but it was long and thick so it was mostly a wave.  

And, it was a fabulous red.

Pretty soon, I'm going to look like a sheep.

My world is off because of my hair.  I went shopping recently and felt uncomfortable in Bebe, Express and Cache.  I have been shopping in those stores for years. They cater to younger women than me, but they carry my size (few stores do) and at least have clothes for people out of their teens. But, searching the racks at Bebe, all I could think about was my grey head.

I no longer belonged.  They knew it, and I knew it.

I'm a fast driver.  When I go past people, I wonder if they are surprised that this grey-haired old lady is in a rush?  I've certainly decided not to get behind people because of the color of their hair. 

There are times when I fear it's not really the hair that is bothering me.  It's what's now showing under the grayness. I have never seen so much of my face in my entire life, and  I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing.  Let's just say I wasn't meant to enter a beauty contest.   We women use our hair as a screen to hide behind.  On a bad skin day, or a shy day, or when we need a break, we can lean our heads forward and let our locks cover our faces. But, now my screen has been ripped away and I feel exposed, for all the world to see.  The funny thing is I was always the one who didn't care if a cut wasn't perfect (although I never allowed it to be shorter than shoulder length).  "It'll grow back" was my mantra. 

"It'll grow back in two years" doesn't quite sound as optimistic.

If I was as pretty as Mr. Jay, maybe I wouldn't mind the grey.

But, I'm not. 

He puts his makeup on way better than I do too. 


I may pop on on my stylist this week and see if she thinks there is enough to dye.  If I have super short dark hair, at least I can pretend to be French.  If it's too early, or if I'll have to do my roots too often, I guess I'll try to adopt the relaxed attitude of that guy in the skirt. 

At least, when summer comes, we'll both be cooler. 

That's something.