One Step at a Time

“You just have to do what needs doing when it needs to be done.”  That was a line from our January 15, 2012 blog.  So let’s see where we’re at with Linda’s “to do” list:

·        Chemo?  check
·        Surgery? check
·        Hormone therapy? Check and ongoing
·        Radiation?  Bring it.

Linda has been working hard with two-a-day stretching sessions and about three miles of walking daily.  She will be side-lined for the NBA playoffs, but her progress has been terrific.  She has a list of exercises to regain her range of motion, but is hampered a bit by axillary cording in her right arm.  That will be treated in physical therapy which she’ll start this week. 

Last week, the Radiologist marked her skin with small tattoos to indicate where she will be radiated.  Assuming her surgical incisions are healed sufficiently, the radiation could start later this week.  She will have a check-up with her Oncologist on Wednesday.

I secretly took this picture on her walk on this beautiful Mother's Day morning.  This scene and how she looks with her Stevie Van Zandt bandana, makes me think of Springsteen’s “If I ShouldFall Behind.”

Itsy, bitsy spider

It’s been a while since the last update.  Healing is progressing well following the April 17 surgery.  The drain tubes were removed just six days later.  Since then, Linda twice needed some fluid aspirated manually.   I think she just likes going to see the doc.

We met the Radiation Oncologist on Wednesday who provided an overview of how radiation therapy will go:  30 minutes a day, five days each week, for six to seven weeks.  This will start as soon as all of the surgical incisions heal sufficiently (about another two weeks).  From the radiation, she will have some sunburn-like symptoms along with some fatigue.  It also puts her at a higher risk of lymphedema (swelling). 

To get her fully ready to start radiation, she has to be able to “strike a pose” like those glamour shots:  hand on head as if propping your head up while lying down.  The exercise routine to get her ready for that is kind of comical.  She has to stand facing the wall, toes touching the wall, and her hands have to climb the wall like spiders until she can’t go further – hold that for 20 seconds.  Repeat 5 times.  My job is to measure how far she gets (she has improved seven inches in a week!).  So while I’m saying things to coach and encourage her, she’s singing “itsy, bitsy spider.”  I never hear that song at the gym.

She started hormone therapy this morning.  As stated in an earlier post, that will bring on menopause-like symptoms (fatigue, and what others – not me – refer to as bitchiness). 

The weather has been great, so she has been walking at least two miles a day.  We do a walk after dinner too – a good idea even if it’s not part of a get-well plan.

Thank you again for all your good thoughts, cards, notes, visits, meals, snacks, flowers, and gifts.  They are truly uplifting and your messages are well received.  One of our visits was with Ella, the baby daughter of Adrienne’s friends Sara and Ryan.  Here’s a pic of Ella "striking a pose" and another with Jake the Dog.  Hope these make your day like they did ours:

Draining Creativity

The last 7 days have really pushed our limits of creativity as a family. Dad, Jess, and I (with some help from Greg) have been "babysitting" Mom since she got home from the hospital. While she hasn't been in much pain, she also hasn't had a ton of energy or any desire to leave the house. So, we have reached into the depths of creativity to entertain her (and ourselves). This included:

-Nightly trips to either Sweet Frogs for vanilla and peach or vanilla and dulce de leche frozen yogurt or Bev's for banana or vanilla ice cream.
-Figure 8 laps around the first floor of the house (picture a parade).
-Youtube clips of Ellen
-Viewing some "all time favorite" comedies handpicked from Seattle (Thanks, Thomas Family!)
-Mom leading a class in arm exercises
-Creating a Facebook page (and gmail account) for Jake the Dog (You, too, can be friends with JTD.)
-Lots of laughs remembering all the times Mom made Jess and I "put ourselves out there."

Today is the one week anniversary of Mom's surgery (aka: the day surgery was originally scheduled) and she is moving around pretty well. Her drains were removed yesterday, so now she is even contemplating leaving the house (if only the weather would cooperate). As an avid rule follower, she will do her exercises diligently. Dr. V (her breast surgeon) has said she doesn't need to come back for 6 weeks. When Mom expressed some surprise at this, she was told that she can visit them socially any time she wants.

A quick shot of Mom doing her exercises:

We've checked another major item off Mom's treatment list. And with that does come some relief. With a renewed spirit, we look towards radiation and hormone therapy in about two weeks. And, if we look real close, in really good light, and the right magnification, we can see new hair growing back. She’ll probably still need sun screen on her head this summer, but it’s the start of better things to come.

PS: For those who are still waiting for answers: 2lbs each for approximately 4lbs total.

"As good as it gets!"

Everyone gasps when they learn that Linda was discharged from the hospital in less than 23 hours after surgery. We had a quick lesson on what to do for self-care at home and we were out the door. “See ya. Next.”

We arranged for a visiting nurse, but she didn’t come until today, so for the first few days, we learned by doing. It’s worth noting that Linda has been able to manage her pain with a couple of over-the-counter Motrin tablets (she wanted to just bite on a bullet, but with all the dental work she had done over the years, Motrin seemed to make more sense). Years ago, when I was coaching Jessica’s soccer team, I had a box of rubber gloves in my first aid bag. I never used a single one. That box moved with us from Connecticut to Virginia to Maryland and back to Virginia. They are now a part of our daily regimen.

Linda’s surgeon called this morning and wanted us both on the phone when she explained some very good news. The redness Linda saw in the same spot as back in December was not a recurrence of cancer - it was a side effect of the chemo. More importantly the pathology report from the mastectomy showed that there was only one small bit of cancer (3 millimeters) in her breast, and only one of nine lymph nodes removed that had a small amount of cancer. Conclusion: the chemo was very effective. Her left breast was totally clean, as expected. The surgeon ended the call with an enthusiastic: "This is as good as it gets!" We like this surgeon a lot!

So we are on track for radiation and hormone therapies to start in early May. That certainly lifted her/our spirits which will help with the physical recovery from surgery. It also helped that the visiting nurse validated that the after-surgery care we’re doing is correct. As of today, Linda is moving slowly but diligently does her exercises. She sleeps a lot and has a good appetite. Onward.

Many thanks for the flowers, fruit, cards, notes, gifts, and calls – they have healing power.

Ta-ta to the Ta-tas

Mom and Dad got up dark and early this morning (more like got out of bed dark and early because neither got much sleep) and headed to the hospital. After some pre-operation prep work, Mom went into the OR around 7:30a.m. All in all, the surgery was longer than expected but not because there were problems. Dr. V started by removing Mom's port. Over the last couple of weeks, Mom had become increasingly uncomfortable with the port (and/or the idea of the port) in her neck. While there are some that would say to leave it in "just in case," Mom wanted it out. And, she got what she wanted! After about 5.5 hours, Mom was moved into recovery. Dr. V told Dad that the surgery went great and there were no issues. She also said that she got clear margins.

By the time I got to the hospital, around 3p.m., Mom was doing pretty well. She asked to go for a walk (within the corridors of the surgery center), and special ordered some chicken noodle soup and chicken pot pie (which she proclaimed was not as good as Dennis’ and Andy's). She has a private room with a bathroom that is as big as her room. She is in great hands with the nursing staff. She says she is a 3 on a scale of 0-10 in terms of pain and right now so she's taking some medium strength pain meds (as opposed to knock-you-on-your-butt pain meds). Hopefully she will rest comfortably tonight. Hopefully Dad will too.

She will most likely be home by early afternoon tomorrow. A home care nurse will stop by once a day for the first week or so. The nurse will help keep an eye on Mom's bandages and empty her drains (2 on her right side, 1 on her left). Mom will likely feel some tightness in her chest and be sore for a bit. It is good for her to move around and start lifting her arms. So far, she is doing much better at that than we thought she would. Off to a good start.

The actual pathology report will take 4-5 days. While, of course, we are hoping for good news, we are also hoping that the report and/or Dr. V can answer the question Jess and I have wondered for years: how much do boobs really weigh?!

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and messages today. Hugs aren't the most comfortable for Mom right now, but we passed along all your wishes in the form of hand squeezes!

PS: While writing this blog, I realized that we could have just weighed Mom pre- and post-surgery to determine the weight of boobs. Oh well.

PPS: Dad just reminded me that they weighed Mom during pre-op. We may get to know the answer after all! Gotta have hope, right?!

Waiting

I’ve always enjoyed being on the factory floor watching how people, machines, and materials flow together to create something that customers value. I appreciate the roles people play to make things happen – the planning, the processes, the problem solving, and the results – results that matter. Repeat.

It’s easy to see the parallel in a hospital’s surgery prep area. The machines are quieter, but there’s no less activity. At this ridiculously early hour, the process is in high gear. There is a guy stocking shelves with medical kits, and there are surgeons, anesthetists (hey Chris Nichols!), nurses, technicians, and patients. To me there is only one patient in here, yet to them there are dozens on this ordinary Tuesday. There is comfort in knowing they do this all the time. Confidence.

The waiting room is full of anxious relatives who will be replaced by others tomorrow. Good luck to them all. It’s clear that in this one room, we’re all waiting – not for medical reform, not for better technology, not for better research. Not today, anyway. Today we’re simply waiting for news on how our patients are doing and we’re hoping that the teams in the operating rooms are
having a good day. We’re hoping that everything that they are working with was made well in some factory somewhere, because results matter. A lot.

A Set To Remember

It is no secret that we come from a family of "well-endowed" women. Over the years, we've done some informal research on where they originated. All genetics point to Dad's aunt. Because of this, it is a rare family gathering when we DON'T talk about boobs. In the last (almost) 30 years, I have heard Dad proclaim "we really will talk about anything!" at dinner tables, on car rides, etc. We order sports bras off a special website (thanks to Oprah). We finally realized that Victoria's Secret is that she doesn’t sell bras for women like us. We gave up on button downs as a way to look professional. We know that we are better off with a shirt/dress that doesn't require a strapless bra. I have often joked about cutting them off and donating them to those "less fortunate."

About 3.5 months ago, conversations about boobs that used to be kept to our inner circle went public. Something happens with a diagnosis of breast cancer (well, a lot of things happen but this post isn't about all of them). All of a sudden, it is perfectly acceptable to talk to perfect strangers about boobs. I've talked to waitresses, cashiers, nurses, co-workers. It no longer matters if we are in public instead of at home. Our typically private conversations now happen anywhere, with anyone who will listen. I know about my dermatologist's aunts boobs. I have seen pictures on numerous websites of women who have shared their breast with others going through Inflammatory Breast Cancer. Recently, a friend of a friend created a "Nipple Book" for women who have reconstruction surgery after mastectomies to get tattoos of their nipples. And over 20 people showed up to get their pictures taken (no Piazza women participated in that adventure - that I know of). Turns out, boobs are what most women have in common and most women are having the same conversations we've been having amongst ourselves.

Well, as of Tuesday morning, we'll have one less set to talk about. Mom's boobs will be gone. All the joking no longer seems as entertaining. While I'm curious to see if our conversations will still lead to boobs, it will be hard not to notice the "void" in the room. Will it be true that you don't know what you have until it's gone? I guess we will find out.