I dreamed last night that I lived in an amazing house with the most wonderful amenities and immense comfort. And I woke up in that same mindset. My home hadn't changed during five days in the hospital, but my appreciation was much keener. I received great care in the hospital, but nothing beats being back home.
My surgery went well and the doctors said it was a best-case scenario. The tumor they removed was fully encapsulated, with no dreaded tendrils sneaking away to cause trouble elsewhere. No hysterectormy was necessary afterall, and I sacrificed just a bit of small intestine to which the tumor was attached. Everything else they could see in my innards looked clean, including lymph nodes.
The prayers that preceded me into the hospital and have followed me home are much appreciated. As I work through recuperation, my daily mantra is this: I am very blessed!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Cheers!
I'm toasting to good friends. I'm toasting to good times. I'm toasting to good food. I'm toasting to toast. I'm toasting to anything I can think of to try to get this gallon jug emptied.
It's surgery prep day, and that means I am supposed to drink this awful stuff to clean up my innards, but I'm not very good at it.
I started right on time -- set the alarm clock for 6:45 so I could begin my cocktails at 7 a.m. And I have been drinking a glass every 15 minutes as directed -- but apparently my glass wasn't big enough. Instead of finishing the jug in two hours, it's been four hours now and I'm still not finished.
So here come more toasts -- to rainy mornings that I don't have to go to work, to emails letting me know I'm in the prayers of lots of people, to nearby bathrooms, to finally emptying the jug. Here's to you!
It's surgery prep day, and that means I am supposed to drink this awful stuff to clean up my innards, but I'm not very good at it.
I started right on time -- set the alarm clock for 6:45 so I could begin my cocktails at 7 a.m. And I have been drinking a glass every 15 minutes as directed -- but apparently my glass wasn't big enough. Instead of finishing the jug in two hours, it's been four hours now and I'm still not finished.
So here come more toasts -- to rainy mornings that I don't have to go to work, to emails letting me know I'm in the prayers of lots of people, to nearby bathrooms, to finally emptying the jug. Here's to you!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
No Chemo Sabe?
What comes after my upcoming surgery? That question was on my mind this week as I kept an appointment with the oncologist who has been watching over me since my Feb. 2009 sarcoma surgery.
Back in my first encounters with this physician, he scared me with talk of inpatient chemo as a means to keep a recurrence at bay. We settled then on close surveillance with no follow-up chemo, in part because I had just endured four months of chemo. Now I was wondering if he was going to sugggest inpatient chemo again after my Aug. 4 surgery.
He surprised me by saying we might opt again for close surveillance, and the reason was something I hadn't considered. Turns out some chemos carry lifetime maximums. Apparently the drugs I received in 1996-97 with breast cancer and the course in 2008-09 for sarcoma -- involving four of the most effective chemo drugs still in use -- aren't recommended to be taken repeatedly.
Follow-up treatment decisions won't be made until I see the oncologist again in September and we have biopsy results from the surgery. So now my feelings are mixed -- part relief that he is considering no chemo, and part dismay that my treatment options are limited.
Funny how you suddenly think you want something -- even as unpleasant as chemo -- as soon as someone suggests maybe you can't have it!
Back in my first encounters with this physician, he scared me with talk of inpatient chemo as a means to keep a recurrence at bay. We settled then on close surveillance with no follow-up chemo, in part because I had just endured four months of chemo. Now I was wondering if he was going to sugggest inpatient chemo again after my Aug. 4 surgery.
He surprised me by saying we might opt again for close surveillance, and the reason was something I hadn't considered. Turns out some chemos carry lifetime maximums. Apparently the drugs I received in 1996-97 with breast cancer and the course in 2008-09 for sarcoma -- involving four of the most effective chemo drugs still in use -- aren't recommended to be taken repeatedly.
Follow-up treatment decisions won't be made until I see the oncologist again in September and we have biopsy results from the surgery. So now my feelings are mixed -- part relief that he is considering no chemo, and part dismay that my treatment options are limited.
Funny how you suddenly think you want something -- even as unpleasant as chemo -- as soon as someone suggests maybe you can't have it!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Here we go again
Past readers of this blog will know immediately what my title means, and it's not heralding good news. But it's not terrible, either.
The physicians who have kept a close eye on me for nearly three years now saw something they didn't like in my latest CT scans. So I have a date with one of my favorite surgeons August 4 at OSU Medical Center.
I am not ready to pronounce this latest development as Cancer 2.1, but it is a suspected recurrence of the sarcoma I battled from the fall of 2008 through February 2009, when a 10-pound tumor was taken from my adbdomen. That it might be back is not a surprise; it's what my brand of sarcoma tends to do.
The good news is I feel great and have no symptoms other than a picture on a CT test. With my 1996 breast cancer and my Cancer 2.0, I felt lumps before doctors diagnosed malignancies.
And I am thankful I even had this last round of CTs. My oncologist had considered not doing another set of scans before my last four-month checkup. But I liked the security of hearing my innards were cancer-free, so he scheduled new tests at my request.
Just in case, I am starting my blog back up and putting out a call for prayers. Being able to express myself here, and knowing that family and friends were praying for my recovery was great medicine before, and I know it will be again.
Thanks in advance for putting in a good word for me!
The physicians who have kept a close eye on me for nearly three years now saw something they didn't like in my latest CT scans. So I have a date with one of my favorite surgeons August 4 at OSU Medical Center.
I am not ready to pronounce this latest development as Cancer 2.1, but it is a suspected recurrence of the sarcoma I battled from the fall of 2008 through February 2009, when a 10-pound tumor was taken from my adbdomen. That it might be back is not a surprise; it's what my brand of sarcoma tends to do.
The good news is I feel great and have no symptoms other than a picture on a CT test. With my 1996 breast cancer and my Cancer 2.0, I felt lumps before doctors diagnosed malignancies.
And I am thankful I even had this last round of CTs. My oncologist had considered not doing another set of scans before my last four-month checkup. But I liked the security of hearing my innards were cancer-free, so he scheduled new tests at my request.
Just in case, I am starting my blog back up and putting out a call for prayers. Being able to express myself here, and knowing that family and friends were praying for my recovery was great medicine before, and I know it will be again.
Thanks in advance for putting in a good word for me!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Facing another birthday
When it comes to birthdays, I have never grown up.
I still anticipate each one with the giddiness of a child. Those who approach their birthdays with dread mystify me. Birthdays always have and always will be an occasion for celebration to me, now even more than ever. What can be bad about marking the blessing of another year of life?
My birthday yesterday was made even more special by the greetings that popped into my e-mail all day via facebook. I am still a facebook novice and didn't realize so many people make it a habit to send birthday greetings to their facebook friends. I even had to ask someone how birthdays appear on facebook pages so I can make sure to return the greetings when other friends are celebrating their special days.
This birthday was also sweeter with the remembrance of a few dark days in the midst of my Cancer 2.0 when I wondered if I would have another birthday. I give thanks for my healing every day, and on special days like my birthday, I celebrate my good health even more.
I am very blessed, and sharing my birthday with facebook friends yesterday just multiplied my blessings.
I still anticipate each one with the giddiness of a child. Those who approach their birthdays with dread mystify me. Birthdays always have and always will be an occasion for celebration to me, now even more than ever. What can be bad about marking the blessing of another year of life?
My birthday yesterday was made even more special by the greetings that popped into my e-mail all day via facebook. I am still a facebook novice and didn't realize so many people make it a habit to send birthday greetings to their facebook friends. I even had to ask someone how birthdays appear on facebook pages so I can make sure to return the greetings when other friends are celebrating their special days.
This birthday was also sweeter with the remembrance of a few dark days in the midst of my Cancer 2.0 when I wondered if I would have another birthday. I give thanks for my healing every day, and on special days like my birthday, I celebrate my good health even more.
I am very blessed, and sharing my birthday with facebook friends yesterday just multiplied my blessings.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Getting my fix
I never get tired of a good report from the doctor. My latest check-up Wednesday followed a familiar routine that has become addictive.
First comes the blood draw for the necessary lab report, but it is not painful thanks to the medi-port that still sits just under the skin on my right shoulder blade. Next a medical technician checks me in, going through a list of questions to remind me how well I am doing as I answer negatively to queries about pain, fatigue or other problems. Then there are the too-slow minutes waiting in the exam room with unbidden what-if thoughts keeping me company.
Finally, the doctor appears in the doorway and my senses go on high alert. My eyes search his face for signals while my ears strain to hear the words that are my fix for the next several months: "Your scans are fine."
There were plenty of times in the days leading up to and shortly after my February 2009 surgery that I was really tired of what seemed to be endless visits to doctors. Now I look forward to the welcome validation of my health.
I have been deeply blessed, and every few months, a doctor reminds me so.
First comes the blood draw for the necessary lab report, but it is not painful thanks to the medi-port that still sits just under the skin on my right shoulder blade. Next a medical technician checks me in, going through a list of questions to remind me how well I am doing as I answer negatively to queries about pain, fatigue or other problems. Then there are the too-slow minutes waiting in the exam room with unbidden what-if thoughts keeping me company.
Finally, the doctor appears in the doorway and my senses go on high alert. My eyes search his face for signals while my ears strain to hear the words that are my fix for the next several months: "Your scans are fine."
There were plenty of times in the days leading up to and shortly after my February 2009 surgery that I was really tired of what seemed to be endless visits to doctors. Now I look forward to the welcome validation of my health.
I have been deeply blessed, and every few months, a doctor reminds me so.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
No pain, no gain
I haven't abandoned my blog. Really! But the further I have traveled from the cancer that turned me to blogging in the first place, the less often I have written.
Some free time tonight lured me back to these pages. I was surprised to see more than a month had passed since I last shared thoughts in the blogosphere. It's not that every post was about my cancer. Some of my most favorite posts had nothing to do with my illness. They had more to do with focusing my thoughts on something other than how I was feeling or the sickness I was fighting. Writing sometimes let me escape and regroup.
Next weekend will be two years since I discovered the lump in my abdomen that quickly grew into a nightmare of doctor and hospital visits, chemo and hair loss, surgery and recovery. Not a day passes that I don't give thanks for my return to good health, and for the blessings that come from having faced cancer and moved on. The less I write, the more I realize what therapy it was for me to maintain this blog in the midst of my treatment.
Some free time tonight lured me back to these pages. I was surprised to see more than a month had passed since I last shared thoughts in the blogosphere. It's not that every post was about my cancer. Some of my most favorite posts had nothing to do with my illness. They had more to do with focusing my thoughts on something other than how I was feeling or the sickness I was fighting. Writing sometimes let me escape and regroup.
Next weekend will be two years since I discovered the lump in my abdomen that quickly grew into a nightmare of doctor and hospital visits, chemo and hair loss, surgery and recovery. Not a day passes that I don't give thanks for my return to good health, and for the blessings that come from having faced cancer and moved on. The less I write, the more I realize what therapy it was for me to maintain this blog in the midst of my treatment.
I do miss the writing, but I don't miss what motivated it!
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