Woohoo!

I just received another bit of good news.  My cancer is ER/PR positive and HER2 negative.  It's the most common type of breast cancer, so docs have a wider range of artillary to use in the fight.  I'll be able to lessen the chance of reoccurance by taking medication for the next 5-10 years to suck all the estrogen out of my body.  Maybe that sounds bad to some people, but I'll take it over the alternative.  ;-)

Below is a picture from a meeting I had recently, and while it makes me look like I'm 300lbs., I thought I would share it anyway.  Jim Toomey, creator of the Sherman's Lagoon cartoon, came to talk to our director about shark conservation.  National Aquarium (in D.C.) staff attended as well and brought Sherman with them for the photo op.  My job isn't such a bad gig.  LOL!

It's almost Christmas!

Well, today's title has nothing to do with the actual entry.  I just wanted to say it because I'm very excited.  Being a single child, the Christmas celebrations in my house were very low key.  Since being welcomed into Erik's family in 1992, I've come to really enjoy the Harrison Christmas Eve festivities - the endless, fattening hors d'oeuvres, the amazing dinner, and the crazy present opening bonanza.  PANTS!  BIG KNOBS!  ;-)

Back to the elephant in the room...
I've had some news, thank goodness, since I last posted.  Officially, I have infiltrating ductile carcinoma.  Evidently, that type is "better" than lobule cancer.  Also, my MRI was clear, so while there may be cancer cells in other parts of my body, there are no tumors.  The Debbie Downer is that the tumors I have are grade 3 meaning they are aggressive.  There will be no change in treatment because of this.  It's just more info.  We're still awaiting for the pathology report.  It's killing us to wait because that is an incredibly crucial piece of information.  It tell the docs what type of treatment to do, and the options they have.  I won't go into the details - I'll tell you when I know.

Tomorrow I have an echocardiogram to get a baseline of how my heart is working.  Chemo can cause heart damage, so the docs will need to monitor any changes.  Next week, I'm having a port put into my chest, on the right side, to make it easier to administer chemo.  The docs knock you out to put in the port.  I've only been knocked out completely once in my life, to have all four wisdom teeth pulled, so I'm kinda' looking forward to that Alice down the rabbit hole feeling.  Trippy!

The port procedure means I can't start chemo next week.  I'll start the week after.  The upside of that is I'll feel good enough next week to prepare the house to host Aunt Betty's Christmas.  That's the second Harrison Present Palooza of each holiday season.  LOL!

So, otherwise, I'm doing fine.  I had lunch today with a good friend who is also battling cancer.  She's putting one foot in front of the other and kicking cancer's ugly butt.  That's the only thing we can do.  Thanks for lunch, my friend!  YOU are an inspiration to ME.  So many women are willing to share their experiences and answer my questions.  Thanks to you all!

I wish everyone a Merry Christmas - take a deep breath in the middle of the hubbub and look around.  It really is a wonderful life.

Quote of the moment: Erik and I were watching The Santa Clause 2.  Toward the end, Mother Nature marries Santa and the soon-to-be Mrs. Claus.  Mother Nature says the usual stuff, and then she says, "By the power invested in me...by me..."  As odd as it seems, that statement resonated with me.  The only power we truly have is the power we give ourselves.  Those of this with cancer need to remember that.  We do have power over this disease.  It doesn't define us, and we can't let it stop us.  I always knew Mother Nature had it right.  :-)

Thursday at 5:45PM

I will have to get better at choosing catchy titles.  All these professional bloggers have funny titles and witty quips throughout their blogs.  Not sure I'll rise to those heights.  I'm more of a "just the facts, ma'am" kind of person.  :-)  And BTW, don't get annoyed if you call me, and I don't answer or call right back.  Those of you who know me well, know I'm terrible at talking on the phone.  I GREATLY appreciate all of checking on me, and I will talk to you soon.

So...I had another day of poking and prodding.  Two needle core biopsies and a blood test this morning and an MRI this afternoon.  Oddly enough, I almost fell asleep in the MRI machine.  Very weird experience.  They give you earplugs, then wedge your head in between a bunch of padding so you don't move it.  I imagine it's loud, but I didn't notice with all the ear covering.  Sounded like dull thumps, clicks and rumbles.  I did keep my eyes closed the whole time.  I don't think I'm claustrophobic, but today wasn't the day I wanted to find out.

When I entered the MRI/CT section, the first thing the nurse asked me how old I was.  Fourty, of course. She then proceeded to tell me how she was actually an oncology nurse, but was "taking a break" down in the imaging lab.  She asked if I had a family history of breast cancer, etc, etc, and then told me most breast cancer patients were usually older.  Blah, blah, blah...  No family history of cancer, too young to get cancer, whatever...  I have it.  She was actually very nice and offered me any resources she knew of and was very supportive.  The encounter is just indicative of people's reaction.  Surprised, shocked, even sad, but always willing to do whatever you need.  So many friends and colleagues have offered to do anything for me, from cleaning my house and watching Charlotte to walking the giant Bea Dog.  My husband and family are the best!

I also received some disappointing news today.  The cancer is in my left breast and in two lymph nodes, but, while the CT scans showed no cancer in other parts of my body, they did show that many lymph nodes were affected under my arm.  That means I'm definitely Stage 3.  It doesn't mean any change in treatment or surgery.  Just means I'm worse.  Each bit of bad news makes me kick myself for not finding the lump earlier.  Ladies, do your breast exams regularly!  Yes, our boobs feel lumpy, but believe me, you'll feel any abnormal lumps.  And don't put off those mammograms.  If your docs will let you get them at 35, start then.  It's not fun, but believe me, the alternative sucks.

Even though I'm disappointed, I'm still not going glass half empty.  When I was growing up, my dad would "comfort" me by saying, "Just put one foot in front of the other and you'll get through it."  I absolutely hated it when he said that!  You know how it is...he doesn't understand me...yadda yadda yadda.  But now I think that simple sentence is freakin' genius!  That man went through the hell of WWII as a frogman and a sharp shooter, almost died twice, lived with the resulting health problems, married twice, divorced once, raised my brother alone, put himself through accounting and law school while working full time, buried my mom, and he got through it by putting one foot in front of the other.  While I'm glad he's not here to see me battle this, I'm sorry I didn't realize the genius of his approach to life until now.  Se la vie...

I'm babbling on.  That's what you get when I'm achy and tired.  I'll stop now.  Thanks for reading!!

Quote of the moment: Put one foot in front of the other, and you can get through anything. 
I think I'll amend that statement to: Wear great shoes, and put one foot in front of the other.  Then, you can get through anything.  ;-)

December 1 and 14

Disclaimer: I will not check spelling, grammar, or syntax in this blog.  My apologies now to those grammarians with whom I am friends.  ;-)

On December 1, 2010, I was preliminarily diagnosed with breast cancer. 

I found a lump in my left armpit on November 27, which had seemed to appear out of nowhere.  We were in Crystal Lake, Illinois visiting our wonderful Aunt Betty.  My thoughts immediately screamed, "Cancer!!!" and unfortunately, I was right.  I went to the general practitioner on December 1, and he promptly found the lump in my breast I had somehow missed.  The ensuing mammogram and sonogram clearly showed three cancerous masses: two lymph nodes under my arm and one in my left breast. 

Since then, I've been poked and prodded A LOT!  A needle aspiration biopsy, three blood tests, three CT scans, and a partridge in a pear tree. Oh, and an MRI, needle core biopsy, and echo cardiogram yet to come.  Merry Christmas to me!  The doc will be able to tell me much more about the cancer I have after the last biopsy.  She'll also prescribe the medicinal cocktail to be shot into my veins during chemo.  I'll ask her to add a little rum to the mix.  After three hours of a rum-soaked infusion, I'll be mighty happy!

Oh yeah, chemo starts on December 29, so bye bye hair.  Not sure if I'll rock it bald or go for a wig.  Given the chill in the air, I'll probably opt for a wig.  If this were August, I would definitely attempt to rock the baldness!  I'm actually looking forward to trying on different hair.  I've always wondered what I would look like with sleek, straight, black hair.  LOL!  I'm also curious how my hair will look when it grows back.  I may end up with straight red hair.  Well, I AM Irish after all...

All kidding aside, I do get a queasy feeling when I say the words, "I have breast cancer."  It's surreal.  One day I'm thinking how great my life is, and the next I find the lump.  After the initial shock, I realize my life is still great, terrific actually, and this is just a speed bump to make me slow down, look around, and remember how awesome it really is.  I guess we all need a kick in the pants at least once in life.

Quote of the moment (in my words): It's not what happens to you in life, it's what you do when it happens.