Rainbows and Puppies and Kittens and Sunshine

Ignore my gray hair rant below. About an hour after I hit "post," the phone rang. I was being called for another interview at the same school, for an even better job, as the Principal's Secretary.

I was hired the next day.

Perhaps they liked the experience that my silver hair represents.

If that wasn't good enough, today I met my new plastic surgeon, Dr. CMYP. Let's just say that sometimes things happen for the best, and I'm now feeling very positive about my reconstruction.

In fact, I will no longer call him Combat Doctor's Young Partner. He deserves his own nickname, and perhaps there will come a time when I will post his real name, which I only do when they are really, really good.

For now, I will call him Dr. Hoperestoration.

Unlike my previous plastic surgeon, he believes he can give me an acceptable result. He can loosen the pulling scar tissue running from my armpit to my mastectomy scar (which makes it really hard to shave my pit, by the way, it's not a nice round area anymore). I was told that could not be done. He says he can give me a symmetrical result in clothes, and I would even be able to wear a scoop neck top and nobody would know the difference. (Except, of course, you blog readers.)

My old plastic surgeon told me I'd probably always need a prosthesis of some sort. Dr. Hoperestoration looked at me funny when I asked if I'd need one, and he said definitely not. My old plastic surgeon told me I "might" get up to an A cup, and this doctor asked what size bra I wore and didn't blink when I said I wanted to stay my previous size, a C. No problem.

In fact, he said that if we started all over again - if he removed the expander and put a new one in the correct place, he could get me my inframammory fold back - a feat that I thought impossible. But, at this point, with a new job and having come this far in my recovery, I don't want to start all over. If I can look good in clothes, get dressed without problems, shop and buy stuff I like without worrying about whether the item masks a defect, and sleep on my stomach, I'll be happy.

He thinks that's all likely.

Life is all chocolate and diamonds right now.

The only negative is that because I have a new job, I can't schedule my reconstruction until I get a school break. If I was at my old job, which I know well, I could schedule it for September, which, after the rush of getting the new year started, tends to be kind of quiet. Knowing the job well, after my recovery, I could catch up quickly.

With a new job, I won't know when the quiet times are, and won't know the rhythm of the school, and have too much to learn to take a week off.

Plus, it would be bait and switch for me to have interviewed, talked myself up, been hired and then say, "Oh, by the way, I had cancer and need time off for this first in a series of surgeries."

I won't do that, it's not fair.

Fortunately, I work in a school, and we do get a lot of time off. So, the expander stays in until November. I'll give up Thanksgiving for recovery. Which is exactly what I did last year too. Stepdaughter, you are welcome to cook again. :) Son's girlfriend, you are too.

Son?

Okay, I know better.

Four extra months seems like a long time to keep this miserable expander in, but it's a small price to pay for a good job and a good doctor.

Can you smell the roses? I can.

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This whole Gray Hair thing

Like you all do, I look online for validation of my personal choices. So, after my hair grew in gray, and when I decided not to dye it back immediately, I turned to the web to be sure that I'm still stylish and the fashionista I always used to be.

I found lots of approval. Apparently, gray hair is totally in and the new trend among the hipster set. (And, by hipster, I don't mean anybody who has broken theirs.) Gray is walking the runways and socialites such as Pixie Geldof are embracing the color. Why, even Kelly Osbourne has gray hair now!

And they have to pay! I get mine for free!

There is quite the gray movement going on, including on a fantastic website called Going Gray, Looking Great, with stories of women who have actually chosen to let their natural hair color grow out, which they call transitioning.

They didn't do it the easy way, like I did.

Looking at pictures like these, I am assured that I am right in trend:

There are beautiful names for our hair. We are silver, or icicle gray, or snowey-tipped, or sparkling pewter. Lovely sounds, all.

And yet, each time I am walking down the street or in a mall and catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection, I don't recognize myself. "Who is that old lady?" And when I look around the streets to see other women with my hair color, I am not seeing the Kelly Osbournes out there.

I mostly see this:

Needless to say, I am conflicted.

It all came to a head (har har) the other day, when I had a job interview. Now, I like my job as a middle school secretary, but I drive two cities away to get there. Because school starts so early, I have to get up at 5:00 a.m. With my tamoxifen pain and inability to sleep properly, I am thinking I'm going to struggle with that - a lot.

So, I was extremely excited to discover that a job was opening up that I am eminently qualified for, and which is a five minute drive from me. Not only is it close to my house, but it is also the high school my son will attend next year. It would be a dream come true to work there. The drive would be gone, the worry about being so far from my son would be gone.

Plus, nobody there knows I had cancer. I would be free to start fresh.

It was time for me to get a break. It's been a tough year, with cancer, two pets dying, our car stolen, the expensive medical-related expenses cancer brings, and all the associated problems that life enjoys throwing at you all at once.

Seeing the job posted at my son's future school - well, it was a sign. Things are about to get easier on me.

So, I applied. And, unsurprisingly, I got an interview.

I was confident. I was prepared. I am perfect for the job. I knew what they were going to ask because I have typed those questions for my boss before. I felt sure I would be a top candidate.

I even treated myself to new clothes. I bought a pink and gray blouse (I know, but I don't always hate pink) and a grey skirt which I felt that would match my silver hair.

I walked confidently into the interview room, and was startled to see on the panel somebody I'd worked with two years ago. She looked shocked at my appearance and commented on my hair, which immediately flustered me. "Does she know I had cancer, does she know why it looks so different?"

I sat down to the interview, suddenly plunged into cancer mode, on the defensive, wondering what they knew, would they hire me anyway?

Instead of my new mantra, "I've been through cancer, this is nothing." Or, "Hell, if Carly Fiorina can run for Senate after her treatment, than I can certainly handle a job interview" I was in scramble mode, inarticulate. I was the actress who not only went out on stage and forgot her lines, but also forgot her costume. I stood there naked, not knowing what to say, the audience feeling sorry for me.

And, it was one of those situations where instead of recovering my composure after taking a couple of deep breaths, I got worse and worse and blew it so bad that I knew before I'd walked out that I hadn't gotten the job. The only way I could have won that position was if all the other candidates look like that lady with the pipe above.

Even then, it wouldn't be assured.

This is what I looked like when the interviewer knew me

Me now

Cancer has taken a breast, eighteen months of my time, my energy and strength. And, the other day, it took my confidence and thus, a job I really wanted.

I actually like my icicle/snow/pewter hair. But, if it is going to become emblematic of my cancer experience and shake my confidence when people notice it - and it's only natural that they will - then it's going to have to go.

I'm still not "cancer girl" and never hope to be. But, I'm not the old me either, and now I know I never will be again. For now, acceptance of the changes cancer brought is something I realize I'm going to have to work on.

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Insurance Units

In the mail today, I received a letter stating that my insurance company has, a mere 46 days after being abandoned by my old plastic surgeon, approved a referral to what I hope is my new plastic surgeon, Combat Doctor's Young Partner, now known as Dr. CDYP. (Whose name you wouldn't believe even if I told you.)

The letter states that I am allowed one "Treatment/Unit" and this expires October 7.

A treatment unit?

What the heck is a treatment unit?

Reading further, I see that I am allowed this: Office/Outpatient Visit, New.

I already have an appointment for July 30th.  This Office/Outpatient Visit will be considered my 1 Treatment/Unit.

In a strange coincidence, there was a TV show I liked very much called The Unit. It starred the dreamy Dennis Haysbert, who played a special forces leader who often saved people in peril from evil governments. He also showed up on some of my cancer meds packaging materials.

Is this some sort of sign?

During this upcoming treatment/unit, can Dr. CMYP do some actual treating? Because, I'm thinking about having him remove some of the saline in my expander and relieving the pressure. I've been having some pretty extreme, stabbing pains in that area, especially if I move my arm, likely due to sleeping on it. It feels like it's moved out of place too, so I want him to check that. Would that be one treatment unit, or two?

What about surgery? Taking out the expander and putting in an implant is how many treatment units?

Who requests these units from my insurance company? Oh, the letter says it, sorta.  "When applicable, authorization for additional care or visits may be requested by the specialist or provider above."

Do you know how many doctors' names are "above?" Four, including the doctor who broke up with me. Which one requests these additional treatment units? I hope Dr. CDYP.

The fact that my treatment unit expires is alarming. I have had the damn expander in this long, I decided that I would schedule surgery during a school vacation so as not to impact my job. That means it would have to stay in until Thanksgiving time, or even Christmas. I could, I suppose, surround labor day with surgery and just take two days off - I really would like this thing out of me, especially now that it feels like I'm being stabbed from the inside - but I doubt that things happen that quickly anymore.

But, if these treatment units are going to expire, I may not get a choice.

I wonder if this is some sort of communist plot to ration healthcare. Instead of procedures, surgeries, hospitalizations and visits, we will be getting treatment/units. Breast cancer? That is 5,000 treatment units. Use those up, and you are done.

Where's Dennis Haysbert when you need him?

On my letter

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Online Cancer Rally

I received the following and had planned to embed the media for you to see tomorrow, but as it turns out, I will not be in front of my computer tomorrow.

So, I will share the information with you now, and tomorrow you can click the link to find it:

Cancer Treatment Centers of America will be hosting an online Empowerment Rally featuring a diverse group of five cancer survivors/advocates participating in a roundtable discussion on patient empowerment. The Rally is a platform for the voice of these five survivors to discuss what mattered most in their cancer care, choosing the best treatment facility, and sources of empowerment during their cancer journey. One participant is a Hodgkin’s lymphoma survivor, three participants are breast cancer survivors, and the final participant is a brain cancer survivor. All participants received treatment at different cancer centers across the United States, bringing unique cancer care perspectives and experiences to the table.

We hope you can view our live stream of the event (and/or participate by posting questions for our moderator) by visiting www.livestream.com/cancercenter. I’ve listed key details below including date, time, RSVP information, participant social networking information, and more information about the new CTCA Patient Empowered Care model.

When:
Friday, July 23, 2010
3:30-4:30 p.m. (Eastern Time) / 2:30-3:30 p.m. (Central Time)

Tune in to a live stream of event:
The Rally will be streamed live online at

www.livestream.com/cancercenter

Mark it on your calendar, share it with your friends and family, and log-on to participate!

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Hot Flash Machine

I love the state fair for many reasons, not the least of which is the items for sale. I buy 1200 thread count Egyptian Cotton California King sheets there every year, for $25.00.

Try to find that price at Macys.

This year, I also discovered this delightful toy, and at a price of only $12,00, it will give me hours of sweet relief.

What is it, you ask? It's an industrial sized pump mister, perfect for hot flashes. You pump the top ten times, and then each time you squeeze the handle you get a light mist of cooling water, good for a days worth of chronic hot flashes.

Do you see that it even came with a strap? You know how those flashy rappers wear hubcaps around their necks? Well, this is bling for the tamoxifen set.

You might ask, do I really walk around all day with a pump mister hanging around my neck? And, the answer is yes.

Yes, I do.

Latisse and Breast Cancer

Brooke Shields and I could be identical twins, except for the unfortunate fact that she has one more breast than I do.

I didn't mean to make her jealous.

For a while there, her eyelashes were longer than mine too, in that she had some and I didn't. But, those days are over. I now have the same luxurious, fluttery lashes that Brookie does. (Only her closest friends are allowed to call her Brookie.)

Since Brookie has already shared our secret, I suppose that it's okay for me to discuss it. The product we use to get these gorgeous lashes is called Latisse.

Now, here's a secret: before I got cancer, I was rather vain. Hmmmm..... vain isn't the right word, because I never thought I was pretty. I think a better phrase for what I felt was, "fear of aging." I didn't feel old, why should I look it?

I got started on botox because it helps migraines. I kept up with botox because I liked the smooth results. After that, it was easy to graduate to restaylane to fill in some lines, and I also used the forerunner to Latisse, called Revitalash, to lengthen my lashes.

Did you know that Latisse was originally made to help breast cancer patients?

The old formulation of Revitalash contained bimataprost, the same thing that is in Latisse. Bimataprost is prescribed for people with glaucoma. The fable begins with an eye doctor who noticed that his patients who used the glaucoma drug also had very long eyelashes. When his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and her eyelashes fell out, he came up with this brush-on formulation to help her grow them back. Revitalash was born.

Unfortunately for him, Allergan owns the bimataprost molecule so a patent fight ensued. Allergan won, created Latisse, and last I checked Revitalash is just a very expensive conditioning product.

I knew Latisse would work, and so I asked for a prescription. But, I didn't start it until after chemotherapy was over. While it's highly unlikely there would be any interaction with my chemo drugs, I checked, and nobody knew for sure. Latisse is supposed to grow cells and I was trying to kill cells, so I figured I'd just wait.

My last chemo was March 31st. April 5th, I applied my first dose of Latisse in the empty spaces where my lashes should have been. Today, July 21st, not only are all my lashes grown in, but many of them are longer than they ever have been. They are not all evenly lush yet - I have a few in the middle that are approaching 3/4 of an inch long, while at the corners they are normal lashes - but they'll get there.

Here is why women with breast cancer like Latisse: many women who had chemo are distressed to discover that their lashes grow in and then fall out again at the same time. This happens because your lashes are on the same growth cycle, not a staggered one like before. It can take up to a year for their old cycles to restart. Latisse will help you keep you lashes in.

There are some tips for using the product that I have gained from when it was Revitalash. Since I know many women who have finished chemo are interested in this product, I will share them with you. However, you need to take your own advice, not mine. One tip I am going to share contradicts what is on the packaging materials, so you are on your own there.

Latisse comes with individual sterile brushes. They are thick, clumsy, and use a lot of the product. Some people have reported side effects with Latisse, such as redness and soreness. I think - and this is purely my opinion - that the brush is way too thick, and you get too much product on it and that may cause some of the symptoms.

Instead, I have my own brush, a very thin eyeliner brush. I put one drop of Latisse in the cap, and dip the brush in the cap and precisely line my eyes that way. Then I clean the brush. Also, because you are using less of the product, your Latisse will last longer. Latisse costs $120.00 for a month's supply - if you use their brushes. Mine lasted almost three months before I needed to refill it. (Photos of the two brushes are below)

A cynical person might think they included those large brushes so you would use the product up faster and spend more money. Of course, I'm not cynical, and I know they did it for your health and you should totally use their brushes and not your own.

There have been stories of Latisse turning light colored eyes to brown. That is true - but only when used as a glaucoma drug and used as eye-drops. In all the studies done on this medication as an eyelash enhancer, there hasn't been one case of eyes turning color.

Now, it can darken your lash line. It hasn't done that to me, and I'm not sure it'd be a bad thing anyway. What darkened my lash line, and in fact, my entire eye area, was chemo. I have dark circles now that I never had before.

Another thing you need to know, is that Latisse is not fast-acting. And, you also have to be faithful with it. It can take two months to see growth, and that is for women who started with normal lashes. You have to use it every night. If you stop using it, it stops working. But, if you are faithful, you will see results.

Now that I have been through the dangers of cancer, you might be saying, "Surely she doesn't care if she looks old any more?" And, the fact is, I have come to accept it a bit more. Obviously, the point of all I've been through the past year was so I could get old. So, no, I don't have any fear of aging any longer. There is a big demarcation in my life, cut right in half by cancer. I accept my gray hair, and I'm trying to accept what tamoxifen has done to my skin. (I'm looking a bit like an snakeskin purse these days.)

Instead of thinking in terms of looking young, I now think in terms of looking healthy.

But you know what? I still don't like that line between my eyes on my forehead. People think I'm angry when I'm not.

So, as Brookie might say, I'll probably still do a little freshening up.

The one on the left is the brush that comes with Latisse. The one on the right is my own brush.

Don't tell a breast cancer patient they are lucky

So far in the course of my cancer treatment, I haven't been the recipient of any ignorant remarks.

I hear this is rare.

When it came to my physical appearance, strangers either didn't notice my lack of hair, pretended not to notice, or complimented me on my scarves. Nary a rude word.

This is more amazing when you note that I work in a middle school and worked during chemo. Not one kid said a word to me. You might think that's because I'm an authority figure at the school, and so I laugh at your ignorance; you clearly haven't been on a school campus lately if you think that would stop a kid from making a rude comment. In fact, I had one boy actually make fun of my wide-legged pants, asking me if I thought I was still in the 70s. (They are, by the way, very fashionable - check InStyle this month if you don't think so.)

I was actually delighted that this boy showed an interest in fashion, and told him so.

The fact that I heard no rude comments tells me that most kids and adults are very compassionate.

I heard from one acquaintance though, a very pretty, feminine woman who formerly had long blonde hair, that during her process of regrowth somebody called her a "dyke." I cannot imagine the thought process of anyone who could say such a thing. (Cancer or no). I imagine it's quite simple - they don't think at all.

It's a good thing I had not experienced a comment like that, because as those who know me will attest, I am not the kind to suffer in silence.

In fact, I suffer quite loudly. Somebody would have been embarrassed, but it would not have been me.

Now, people have said things that made me a bit uncomfortable. I have been told how courageous I am, for example. I don't understand a comment like that - I was drafted into this pink war, I didn't volunteer. There is a huge difference between being courageous and having no choice but to put one foot in front of the other. But it wasn't a rude comment, it was complimentary, and so you just say thank you.

The closest anybody got to being rude was dissing my insurance choice, when by then, I couldn't do anything about, had I even wanted to. But, that comment came from worry that things weren't happening fast enough so even then, there was kindness behind the remark.

I generally cut people slack in this arena. Most people don't know what to say when they discover you have a scary disease like cancer. So, had somebody said something unintentionally rude, I would pay more attention to the meaning behind the words than the actual words.

Before I had cancer, I wouldn't have known the perfect thing to say either.

I just got a text from a friend, who also has breast cancer and who had a bilateral mastectomy. She is also in the process of reconstruction, and has tissue expanders in place. She has to have them for a year, due to her need for radiation.

Before I go on, let me tell you that TE's are no picnic. They don't feel like breasts; they are hard as a rock. If you hug me, you will feel like you are hugging somebody who smuggled a boulder in her bra. Your skin is stretched over them and often bruised, and because you have no breast tissue left they can rub on ribs and against the inside of your skin. They have valves that can poke into thin skin and cause pain. Sleeping is difficult because they are so hard, getting dressed is difficult because they aren't in the right places. They are generally an uncomfortable pain in the chest.

So, on this hot day, my friend texted me said that somebody had plaintively said she was, "so lucky she didn't have to wear a bra."

Wow, that is lucky! Maybe she should run out and play the lottery!

As much slack as I cut people, I can't see this comment as anything but insensitive. I'm sure my friend would rather wear a bra every day and night for the rest of her life rather than have had Stage III breast cancer, had her breasts amputated, and have expanders inside her for a year.

I am looking for the kindness behind that remark, and am not finding much there.

I'm all about looking for the positives in any situation you can. But, not having to wear a bra because you had cancer and now have tissue expanders isn't lucky.

Even if it is hot outside.

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