Thank goodness killer boobie month is almost over…

I don’t know what to think about pinkwashing on kitchen appliances…

For one, Andy does nearly all of the cooking… and, while he’s concerned about breast cancer, he also won’t wear a pink shirt… I’m guessing if he had a Kitchenaid, he’d use it – then again, our new kitchen is pretty small, so I’m guessing it would end up in the closet…

And… a kitchen appliance, nothing says “women do all the cooking, like God intended” like that… it might as well be a pink vacuum  with a pink French Maid’s costume to go along with it… aack….

I’m glad tomorrow is Halloween… that means the pink-ribbon shit may be gone from the stores by June.

A Blog I love…

 

Writing as jo(e) is one of my favorite blogs... the link is to one of her series of naked friends.

The thing about “jo(e)” is that she takes beautiful photographs of her friends, none of which are explicit or weird — but, they have no clothes on.  Her models aren’t young hot things — rather, they’re her friends, colleagues, and family members.  Their bodies are realistic and beautiful… each new naked friend post reminds me a lot of my “Of Scars” photo shoot..

Thanks to “jo(e)” for reminding me that an older, imperfect body can be beautiful too.

Taking my shirt off… Of Scars

 

Last night was THE night for Of Scars.. It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.  It was energizing and exhausting at the same time.  It was happy and sad…  most of all, it was a wonderful event where I met many amazing people.

I knew the founders Kate and Elli going into the event and I thought it would be great meeting the other models, and I was right.  Their energy, drive, compassion and sense of humor made the decision to participate and the photo shoot itself easy for me.

For most women, being photographed topless for a public event is well beyond their comfort zone.  When you have only one boob, it’s beyond your comfort planet.  But, in a weird way for me, it was exactly what I needed to do.

We all know what society says about boobs… men and women talk about them on a regular basis, praising, judging, commenting, complaining about them until sometimes it seems like all you hear is talk about juggs… in fact, someone went so far as to find 262 different terms we use to describe them.  As a culture, we’re obsessed with them.

I’m a big girl with a DD cup on the right and nothing on the left.  I have two different fake boobs, one of which is smaller than it should be because my insurance company considers the product that makes one in my size a “luxury item”… yep, being symmetrical is a luxury now… thankfully, they will cover two (there’s logic there someplace)… a regular one and a swim boob and the swim boob is actually my size.

But… back to last night…

My photo shoot was in June – so I had plenty of time to wonder how the photos would turn out.  I was also pretty sure that most of the other models had been reconstructed, so I was likely to be the only one-boobed woman on the walls.  I trusted Kate and Elli to pick beautiful photos because I’d seen examples of their work — and I knew them.  I also couldn’t help but worry that the event itself would be like one of those dreams where you show up for school without your pants. It was far, far from that.

The wonderful thing about Of Scars is that they only display the photos once — when all the models can be there.  So, you look at an amazing photo of a bald woman with scared boobs and then you turn around and talk to the real person.  You meet the friends that were in the photo with her, who shaved their heads on the internet to raise money to help her pay for treatment — you laugh, you drink wine and you complain about the ubiquitous pink ribbons coming up for Breast Cancer Awareness month.  When you say something like “you can’t even fricking buy CAT FOOD that doesn’t have a pink ribbon on it” — they get you… At one point I went to the neighborhood Super America and saw pink and white TIC TACS…. (note, saw, didn’t buy) — when I came back to the event and told one of my fellow models this, she just rolled her eyes…

There was a lot that was overwhelming about last night…

  • Walking into the gallery and seeing my photo was kind of like the first time I had the courage to look at myself  in the mirror after my surgery… I looked at my photos out of the corner of my eye at first, then when I realized the world wasn’t going to stop revolving — I looked again, long and hard.  I saw a beautiful woman with courage she didn’t know she had… until cancer.
  • I found myself telling my cancer narrative in a new way.  I’m now 4 years+ post diagnosis and my life has changed in many, many ways.  What has really changed is my level of compassion for other people.  Everyone has faults, some physical, some intellectual, some personal — some we can see and others we can’t.
  • At one point in the evening the gallery was really crowded — all of those folks spent part of their Saturday night to look at a photo of me without my shirt on… many, many, many of them told me I was beautiful.  For someone who is used to being the smart one, not the pretty one, it was a lot to take in — and, they were seeing one of my big faults — and saying it anyway.
  • My photos showed peace and courage… one of each… and that’s about right.  I’m at peace with losing my breast — and I am a courageous person.  I’m doing my thing and enjoying life.  period.

 

Doing what you can do to help…

I’m part of the “Of Scars” project… this link is to the sneak peak with my photo, if you want to look…

As many of you know, I’m not all about the pink ribbons… cripes, it takes months for the stock of cat food, paper towels, diet coke and all the other stuff that carries pink ribbons on the packaging to go away… It’s kind of icky for me to think about.

Yes, I had (technically, have, but not active.. yadda, yadda, yadda) breast cancer.  Yes I appreciate all the folks who are supportive.  Yes, for sure, I’m glad I don’t live in a time when breast cancer was something shameful… yep, I get that.

What I also get is that I can, in my own way, do something to help other women facing breast cancer.  The “Of Scars” project is part of that.  I do it by being open about my experience.  By telling people that I only have one boob attached… by talking about chemo, the good and the bad… and by talking about how having cancer changed my outlook and life goals.

“Of Scars” is a photography project that intrigued me when I first heard about it.  This will be the third event — so, the first one was about a year after I really noticed that October was pink ribbon hell.  I was sick of the whole thing and dreading the month all together.  If I could have run away to the north woods until November 1, I would have.

Along came my first contact with “Of Scars” — a project celebrating the women who have the scars — the whole women who live, love, laugh, cry, raise kids, get married and divorced, along with the rest of us.  I was one of them at that point.  I got it — I’m more than my scar.  My scar is nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s like a tattoo to commemorate a part of my life.  I knew then that I wanted to be involved… but, for some reason I couldn’t make it to the event.

I eventually became facebook friends with Kate and Eli via the “Of Scars” facebook page — so I saw their call for models after the second event… and I was all over that.  This year, I’m part of the event..

The cool thing about the event is that the images are only displayed for one evening — and the women in the images are at the event.  So, you look at the images then you see the real, live, women laughing and enjoying life… because, that’s what we do, we enjoy life.

I can’t think of a better way to set my perspective straight about pink ribbon hell… This year I’ll try to see every gross commercialization of a scary time in my life as representing a woman or her loved ones who have joined the pink ribbon sorority…

Of Scars

I met two amazing women today– Eli and Kate.  Together they put together “Of Scars” — a photo project celebrating women with scars from breast cancer.

I became interested in this project last time around — and this time I’m planning to model.  It seems rather brave to participate in a public art project by showing my breast cancer scar — but really, it’s not.

First of all, Eli and Kate are great — really great — fun, funny, sensitive, thoughtful and creative.  We had a great conversation that wandered far and wide — and always came back to ideas about beauty and courage — which is what they want to celebrate with their project.

The big idea is to create portraits of women who aren’t afraid to show their breast cancer battle scars.  The samples they showed me were all beautiful photos, some were raw, some refined, many thoughtful and all  thought-provoking.   Each photo captured the spirit of the woman in a beautiful and unique way.

Kate and Eli are very concerned about not making “Of Scars” about the scars.  They take great pains to ensure that the project does not exploit the women involved — so the images are not on the web and are only publicly displayed at one event.

The big question is why I’d want to do this project?  First of all, I think it’s a project worth supporting — and the best way I can think of to support the project is to participate.

The real and deep reason is that the last year or so has been about freedom and boldness — and what could possibly be more freeing or bold than showing my scar to the public?  I’ve always been open about my breast cancer — with my students, friends, colleagues and family.  I’m not shy about being “lop-sided” when I take off my bra — I’m comfortable with my own scar and I want others to see the way breast cancer has made me a stronger, and perhaps better person.

Having cancer made me see myself and my life in a fresh way — it was a re-set button on my life.  It freed me from some ruts and ways of thinking that hadn’t always been positive or fun — and made me see that life really is short, so it’s better to be bold and fearless than not.

Having cancer was scary — and fighting it made me free to take bigger risks, to risk being happy when the implications of failure are there as well — once  you’ve faced down cancer (knock on wood), very little else is really, truly, frightening.  Anybody who has had chemo, who has an oncologist, who has spent any time in the waiting room of a cancer clinic can tell you that becoming a “cancer survivor”as your identity can be quite easy.  I fought that every step of the way– and what I love about “Of Scars” is that it celebrates the women and not their status as “cancer survivors”.

I’d also like to show my friends and family how bold and free I’ve become.  I think Kate and Eli are just the women to help me do it.

My friend P…

Let me tell you about P…

She’s a lot like the older sister I never had.  She’s my friend, my confidant, my mentor and she does kick ass hair.  We worked together at the hair supply place for many years — she supported my move to a more flexible job that let me finish not only my BA but my Ph.D. coursework. P is one of those friends you can be separated from for a long time and things just click back when you’re together again.

About 3 years ago I walked into her salon in Omaha and shocked the hell out of her.  I was bald from chemo.

I couldn’t figure out how to call her and tell her on the phone — it was just too hard.  I wanted to see her, to let her know what had happened to me and I needed her hug and hair advice — so I went to see her.  I also wanted her to see that I was ok — to be able to look me in the eyes and know that this was just something that happened to me, it wasn’t the end of me.

Since the ex stopped teaching in Omaha, I saw P less often — but when I’d have to go to Nebraska for dissertation things I’d make a hair appointment (because my hair did come back) and we’d talk — I miss her whenever someone else does my hair, because neither the hair nor the conversation is as good as it is with P.

I found out today that P has two kinds of cancer… breast cancer and a much more scary kind of cancer… she’s in the middle of chemo and having some trouble.  It makes me sad to be 400 miles away from her, even though I know she has a wonderful husband and family and many friends around her — I still want to visit her, give her a hug and have a chat..

I want to tell her that it’s ok to be bald.

She’s a picky eater anyway (nothing spicy, she’s a good Nebraska girl after all) — so taste changes won’t be huge for her –

I want to tell her that there is life after cancer.  All of this is scary — as it should be — but that doesn’t mean you become a CANCER PATIENT…. which is oddly like being a HUSKER FAN, except Husker fans get to drink beer… cancer is something that happens to you, it isn’t who you are.  The medical professionals around you will make it easy to become CANCER PATIENT — and I’d love to be around to help her stay P.

I want to bring her avocados — because they taste amazing during chemo.

I want to bring her all the hats and scarves I couldn’t wear when I was bald because they were too small for my enormous head.  P knows that I have an enormous head… she comments on it when she does my hair.  I also have a lot of hair for a natural blonde… and only P knows when I started getting gray hairs..

I want to bring her the one hat that fit — because it has good karma… and I don’t need it right now.

I want to give her a hug, talk about our lives and give her some time to be distracted from the hospital routine until she needs a nap.

I want to go to her house and cook and clean — lots of small portions of mild food — and some normal food for her amazing husband and family.

I want to make things ok for the woman who is my soul-sister…. and I’m afraid I can’t.

Cancer sucks.

Something I didn’t know about breast cancer..

It seems it’s time for boobies on Leftyconcarne…

Actually, this is a post about prosthetic boobs… the kind you have when the real one(s) are trying to kill you…

What I didn’t know is that they wear out.  It’s been about a year and my “foob” is getting oddly wrinkly.

I also didn’t know that at altitude, they develop small bubbles..

Now you know.

My Breast Cancer Journey, part 3

… Support is vital — and deserves it’s own post.

It’s not easy being the one who loves a cancer patient.  There are multiple doctors office visits, tests, stress and worry.  Not only is the person you love sick, but you’ve got to be the one thinking in practical terms… will the insurance cover it?  Can we pay the bills if she can’t work?  Is she going to die?

The ex was with me when I got the first bit of cancer news — so I didn’t have to tell him.  As I soon found out, telling people was the hardest part.

The worst part was telling mom.  Pam had been gone for about 7 years and now I had to tell her that her other daughter had breast cancer.  She’s a nurse, she knows what that means — she’s also someone who has lost one daughter already and she knew what kind of a special hell that was.  That was probably the most difficult phone call of all to make… of course Mom handled it with her usual grace and kindness — but I could tell by her voice that she was shaken.  I just hated that she had to face the possible death of her other daughter — that really wasn’t ok with me.

I also had a decision to make — about how open I should be at work.  My college is a very supportive place.  We’re colleagues and friends.  There is little competition between faculty and almost no jealousy or back-biting.  We really are kind of our own dysfunctional family, and now I had to decide how much to tell and to whom.  In the end, I decided to be very open about it — not because I felt the need to tell everyone, but rather because I didn’t want there to be questions or concerns that folks wouldn’t want to share with me.  I also didn’t want the “who knows what” stuff to be in my head — so before school started I wrote an e-mail to the whole department telling them what was up and that I’d be coming back to work bald as a cue ball.

As an extension of that decision, I had to decide what to tell my students.  It was clear that there was something wrong with me.  It wasn’t clear how I would react to the chemo, if I’d have to cancel classes or even get someone to take over some or all of my teaching duties.  I wrote a letter explaining it all and put it on the front page of my syllabus.  I wanted to let students know that if they had a problem with it — if it brought back bad memories or whatever — that they should choose another course right away because their philosophy prof is also a cancer patient that semester and there was no changing those things.  Their reaction was amazing.  They were concerned for my health from the first day of class — they offered all kinds of “herbal” supplements  (wink wink) and were kind and considerate of my time and energy.  They were outright amazing and kind and I’ll always love them for that.

A few people were extra-special support for me — of course, the ex because he lived with me — and mom, because she’d have it no other way.  They helped in many ways I saw and didn’t see…

My tutor and friend Sara was especially helpful.  She was taking my 7:45 ethics class at the time and outright said that if I didn’t come to class, she’d better hear from me or she’d be breaking down my door by 8:00 AM.  My colleagues were also quite helpful, offering meals, rides and other practical support in case I needed it.  The ex, mom and I were a pretty tight little team, so I didn’t need much but I knew the folks I could call if I needed something.

During my Cancer World experience, Andy wasn’t in my life — but as we’ve become best friends ever, the subject of my cancer returning comes up.  Today was the third PET results appointment since we’ve been best friends ever — and it was interesting to see how things changed.  During the first one he was waiting to get my “normal” text — and we went out for coffee afterward.  The last time he came in for the results and then waited for me outside — this time he was right next to me from the waiting room to the end of the appointment.  We had a good conversation with Dr. W — and I’m sure that if it comes to it, Andy and Dr. W will get along just fine… kind of a weird concern, but it’s important that my main support person and my oncologist get along.

The scary thing about going from having hubby to hubby being the ex wasn’t concerns about money or my future, but what would happen if my news wasn’t good during one of these appointments.  Last night Andy and I had a long talk about that — what if… and I’m not scared anymore.  Sure, I don’t want to die — and I’d hate to end my beautiful friendship with Andy, but I also know that if the cancer returns he’ll be right by my side until the end.  period.  He’ll make me food I can eat, he’ll take care of the details and hold my hand when I need it.  We’ll go out as a weird bald pair and have fun, take photos and live life until it’s over.  As someone who has faced cancer before, I can’t ask for anything else.  Medicine can only do so much to make a cancer patient’s life better, their support system has to fill in and do the rest.

My Breast Cancer Journey, part 2

I was never good with the names of my chemo drugs — I kind of intentionally avoided knowing that stuff because I didn’t want my identity to be as a cancer patient.  I wanted to be a college professor and wife who had cancer, not a cancer survivor.  I think the first drugs were called “A/C”… which stands for something I’m sure.  The icky one looked a lot like V-8 juice… and it made me pee red.

For the summer, my routine was to get chemo every other Thursday and some kind of booster shot for my blood cells on Friday.  I think the intention was to keep me from becoming anemic — but, it may have been to boost my immune system — whatever, those details were for the doctor and my mom to remember.  I really didn’t want to know the details.

Chemo day usually started kind of early — often with an appointment before 9:00… The night before I’d make sure to drink a lot of water and eat a light meal — with something equally light for breakfast.  I’d then put on my comfy shorts, a t-shirt and my red birkenstocks and either mom or the ex would drive me over to the clinic.  The ex often left, mom stayed (except when the new Costco opened across the street, some things are irresistible).  The ex wasn’t good with doctors, patients, waiting or seeing me all hooked up — so it was easier for me to do it by myself.  I usually had at least a couple of good books to read and often something good on my ipod, so I managed.

The first bit of the Cancer World process was getting your port accessed.  You go back to the chemo room and have one of the nurses put the needle into your port.  It’s supposed to click in and start working — drawing blood out and then letting fluid back in.  My port was never quite right — so I had to do all the different port-gymnastics and tricks to get it moving… including the arms part of jumping jacks, stretches and tipping the chair way, way back — eventually the chemo nurses would make it work, draw blood and send me back to the waiting room.

The next phase was more like a traditional doctor’s appointment.  Getting weighed, having your blood pressure and pulse taken and being asked about symptoms by the nurse.  I also saw the study nurse every time I was in — so the symptoms talk happened twice.  Eventually Dr. W would come in, we’d chat for a while and he’d send me back to the waiting room.

After the appointment, usually I’d end up in the chemo chair soon — Dr. W’s orders may have changed, mostly in response to my experiences with nausea or allergic reactions — so the only real delay was implementing those changes… .and I’d be off to the chemo room.

At Cancer World, most of the the chemo is administered in an open room.  There are a row of chairs in front of huge windows.  Each chair has a privacy curtain that can be pulled if necessary, but generally they aren’t.  There are also chairs for visitors, magazines, snacks and TV sets you can watch and listen to on headphones.  Of course, it’s all about the chemo so there are poles with pumps on them everywhere.  It wasn’t unusual to see folks eating take -out, having small family parties and generally trying to live their lives while hooked up.

The chemo chairs are kind of a wonder… comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.  They were recliners with footrests that tilted way back — upholstered in easily cleaned vinyl… for obvious reasons.  Each model worked a bit differently, so one of the chemo skills I learned quickly was the secret to getting each model to tip back, put the footrest up etc…

The first set of drugs I got were usually anti-nausea and antihistamines.  They went in fairly quickly — after that came the one that looked like tomato juice.  That was the scary one and the chemo nurses sat with you and hand delivered it into the pump.  That’s because it’s so caustic to the skin that spilling it or a port malfunction could result in bad sores — and a chemo patient with a compromised immune system wouldn’t have good means to help them heal.  As they gave me the tomato juice, I kept ice in my mouth, which was intended to prevent mouth sores.  It worked…

Just a note about the chemo nurses at Cancer World — they’re fantastic!  They’re the ones who see the patients all the time, they get to know them and celebrate victories with them..  They watch you carefully for signs of trouble and make sure that you’re safe while getting drugs that are trying to kill parts of you while keeping the other parts whole.

It’s the tomato juice chemo that makes  your hair fall out — and mine did after the second treatment.  That was pretty traumatic, but being bald wasn’t actually all that bad…

After chemo I’d go home and take a nap — a long nap.  Then whatever sounded good for dinner — usually something non-spcicy and bed.  The next day I was usually more able to function and I tried to get on with my “normal” life.  Usually I’d be home by 2:00 or so, sometimes later depending on how busy the chemo nurses are.

I did the alternate week chemo until late August.  After that, I went in every Friday until the end of November 2008.  The challenge then was that I was pretty allergic to the agent that bound my second kind of chemo — so I had to take steroids the night before and lots of benadryl during chemo.  Sometimes, even then, I’d get a huge red hive on my head and the process would have to stop until it went away… sometimes that took a while — thus, more time at Cancer World.

The main side effects I had were the hair loss, some nausea, diarrhea, constipation and fatigue.  Yep — it was either shooting out of my but or wouldn’t come out at all — it couldn’t average out to being normal, my poop… The fatigue was probably the worst.  Eventually I had to plan to come home from school between teaching classes and take a nap.  I’d also have to spend all day Wednesday in bed just to rest up for the steroid insomnia I knew would happen on Friday and Saturday night.  There’s probably nothing worse than being tired but amped-up so you can’t sleep.. ish.

In early December 2008 I had my first post-chemo pet scan.  It seemed that it worked — so far, no cancer… and today — three years after I ended chemo, I got another clean PET scan report.. YEA!

 

My Breast Cancer journey.. part 1

sheknows.com

.. I’m now officially clear of breast cancer for three years – YEA!

I’m writing because I know the experiences of my sisters in this awful sorority helped me navigate a very scary time in my life.

I vividly recall my ex finding the lump… and the whirlwind that ended in first a lumpectomy and then a mastectomy.  I’d always said that if I had breast cancer, I wouldn’t think twice about taking off the offending boob… and I didn’t.  To this day, I wouldn’t change my decision.  The time between hearing the words, “I’d like to take a closer look at that lump” — and my first visit with my oncologist (Dr. W) were scary, to say the least.  I was 39, had been married for almost 18 years and had a job I loved.  I’d taken the summer off of teaching to write my dissertation.  My ex found the lump the week before  my summer off was supposed to start.  Needless to say, my summer plans of writing my dissertation, swimming and relaxing changed in an instant.

It’s a myth that they won’t tell you that you have cancer over the phone.  My GP got my biopsy results quickly and called me the day after the procedure.  He was blunt, he said “the results show cancer.”  He called quickly because it was an aggressive form of cancer and the surgeon he trusts could see me at noon that day.

We got in the car and went over to meet my surgeon… an older woman who was all business.  We talked about the options and she told me that, “women’s lib changed the laws so that you can have reconstruction at any time”… I had to laugh at the term “women’s lib”, because I’m a third-wave feminist and we don’t use that term… she didn’t understand why I was laughing until I explained it — only then did she find out that I was a Ph.D. candidate in philosophy and had written papers on feminism, particularly feminism and science.  At that point, she showed a bit more respect for me.  It didn’t change her bedside manner at all, but I could see that she realized she wasn’t dealing with any old dumb 39 year old…

The surgery took two parts, as I had a lumpectomy and they removed lymph nodes the first time — but didn’t get clean margins.  So, before my lumpectomy scars healed, I was back to have the whole thing loped off.. I ended up with a DD on the right and an indentation on the left… two scars, one under my arm and one where my breast was.  I also had two drainage bulbs hanging off of me… and I was scared shitless of the chemo and possible radiation that was to come.  I was also nervous because my ex’s job was teaching college 400 miles away… so his daily support for me would end in mid-August.  My last surgery was mid-June.  I had two months to get my shit under control so he could go back to Omaha.  My mom is a nurse — and an amazing person, but I felt it was unfair of her to ask for so much support — and, I really wanted my husband to be the one there for me.. so I felt I needed to be in control of things and independent by the time he went back to work.

I was referred to a group of cancer clinics in my city  (Cancer World — not their real name, but it works)–they had a location close to my home, so I called and asked for the next available new patient appointment.  It was then that I entered Cancer World for the first time.  In the hospital and with my GP and my surgeon, I was a patient with a problem they could tackle.  I had a lump, it needed to be diagnosed and it needed to come out.  They knew they’d pass me into Cancer World if there was a reason to do so — and the results of the lymph node tests and scans would tell them if there was a reason.  To the doctors so far, I was a short-term project.  I was fine with that… sure, they’d do follow up and give me good care, but their gig wasn’t long-term patient relationships and we all knew it.

Things are different in Cancer World, as I was about to find out.  My first appointment took most of the afternoon.  (this is the part that angers Andy..) before I saw any medical people, I saw the money lady —  she assessed my insurance, saw that I had plenty of coverage and told me to go back to the waiting room — it was then that I asked her what would happen if I didn’t have coverage, she pretty bluntly told me that our conversation would include discussions of savings, assets, second mortgages etc..

The next step in Cancer World was with  a nurse who took my vitals and explained the side-effects of chemo.  She was fantastic and took as much time as I needed to understand.  Little did I know at the time that this sweet, unassuming person would become vital to my care.  Nurse Q is amazing…. but I only found that out later.  She was sweet, calm and patient.  She asked questions about my life, my work and my overall health… then she proceeded to scare the shit out of me with the prospect of chemo.  She explained that I’d need a port, as the missing lymph nodes made it unwise to do anything on my left arm and the chemo drugs would ruin veins in my only good arm if I used it all the time.

What I didn’t know at the time was that the port would be completely under my skin.  It’s installed in the hospital, about two inches from my collar bone on the right.  After the scar healed, the only evidence of it was that you could feel a hard triangular shaped lump there — and sometimes see the lump in the mirror…. the installation happened later and what I thought at the time was more like an open line sticking out of my chest — I was glad to be wrong about that.

After Nurse Q, I met Dr. W.  He’s a sweet older man who treats patients like individuals, not numbers.  He’s an old-fashioned doc in that he takes time to get to know his patients, check in with them and know their stories and personalities.  He told me the basics of my cancer — (I didn’t know at that point) — stage 2b, with 1 involved lymph node — the one that had been removed.  The cancer had spread to the first lymph node but not beyond — which is kind of like saying it stopped at the last gate before it entered the rest of my body…. probably.  I had no “hot spots” elsewhere, not in my lungs or other lymph nodes, so radiation wasn’t needed as there was no place to radiate.

After the diagnosis part, he started to ask me about my life and tell me a little bit about his.  He’s married to another physician.  He’s been an oncologist for a long, long time — really, before oncology was a specialty.  He and his wife have two grown children and love to show dogs.  Before he told me the scary stuff about chemo side-effects, he found out a lot about me.  He told me that I’d need to attend a chemo class taught by the chemo nurses before I could start… then we scheduled my first chemo for July 17, 2008.

Dr. W’s last recommendation for me was that I should strongly consider entering a drug trial going on at Cancer World.  I thought it was worth hearing more about and I liked the idea that I could help make a new therapy available… so, I met the study nurse.  SN is all business, all the time.  She came in and talked about the study, my rights to end participation at any time, the set-up of the study and the plan for follow up.

After that, I went home — pretty mind-blown — and scared.   I had an image of myself puking, bald, with diarrhea and mouth sores… exhausted and unable to work.  Scared doesn’t even cover it — I was pretty freaked out.

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