Nothing To Worry About

Oops!

2012-01-30T17:27:00.003-06:00

I see I didn't update again after my last post. I'm fine! I can't remember what they said the lump was, but it's not cancer.

I had another scare a couple of months ago. I developed a deep pain in what felt like the bone of my left hip. I was walking with a limp and quite sure that I had bone cancer. Tom told me to see my regular doctor, because I was overreacting by wanting to see my oncologist. Of course he lost that fight. So, you can well imagine the smugness on his face when I got a call from my oncologist to tell me I have arthritis and not cancer.

I don't update my blog anymore (or do housework, or cook, or bathe) because I spend an unbelievable amount of time reading on my e-reader. My family mocks my choices of books that I read, so, I'm not going to get into that for fear of even more mockery. If I'm not reading, I'm toting the kiddos around with my free taxi service. Basically I'm busy doing anything I can except housework.

I do deeply apologize for not updating this and letting everyone know that I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm happy. I need a maid.

Please Let It Be Nothing

2011-03-15T14:40:00.003-05:00

I'll make this short and sweet: I had a mammogram and I have a lump. I'm scheduled for a biopsy this week Friday. The radiologist and my oncologist have both seen my mammogram and said get it biopsied. I just had a phone call from my family doctor who was sent a copy of the mammogram and was making sure I was informed that there's a lump and I should get it biopsied - you know, because I just wasn't freaking out enough.

This is all I know and I will update as soon as I get my biopsy result back.

Can't Complain - No, Really!

2011-01-27T23:45:00.007-06:00

I am just terrible at keeping this thing updated. I'd love to say that I haven't been updating it because I've just been too darn busy, but that ain't it. Things here have settled into a comfortable hum. As I was thinking about what to write, I realized at this time I have nothing to complain about.

My son is sick, but it's just a virus. Don't get me wrong, I feel sorry for him and wish I could make it better and all that, but he's been home three days this week! I'd gotten used to having a little alone time during the day, but last week there was no work for Tom and no school for the kids because of snow. This was the week I was supposed to get back on my normal schedule, but I can't because these people won't leave the house! I have things to do! Granted I won't do them, but I feel less guilty about not doing them when I'm alone.

Cancer update: Nothing new to report.

Hair update: Growing back and is to the point where I can almost put it in a ponytail. I think I read on some of my survivor sisters' blogs that the hair reaching ponytail stage is quite a milestone - indeed it is, my friends. Indeed it is. (See attached posted picture)

Chemo brain update: Much better!

Mood: Meh. I have ups and downs, but definitely more ups than downs now.

And that's it. All is swell for the time being. Should things change, you'll be one of the firsts to know. Writing about your problems is very soothing. I highly recommend it.

Peace out, yo!

Two Years

2010-11-20T12:54:00.002-06:00

Chemo brain erased a lot of my memories, but that first discovery will never disappear. I remember the day I got married; being told I was pregnant with Allison; the birth of my children; and being told that lump that was nothing was actually cancer. It will be two years ago next month that they found the nothing cancer lump.

It's funny how vivid that memory is of going to the doctor's office after receiving that phone call. At one point there were three nurses, the doctor, plus Tom and me all in the little patient room all at once. It felt like everyone was talking to me at once except Tom. Anyone who knows Tom knows that he has an opinion on most anything and he's not shy about telling it. If you tell him something he didn't know, he'll happily look it up on the internet and confirm what he was told and also to become more knowledgeable about said subject. He's a smart guy and I depend on him to keep a clear head and know stuff that I have never had any interest in.

Sitting in that room with Tom, it wasn't hard to not remember that his mother had died of breast cancer only a few years before. I knew he had to be thinking about it and I knew he had to be knowledgeable on everything and anything breast cancer related. Heck, in my mind, I figured he knew more than the doctor. So, while I was sitting there hysterically crying and hearing words like mastectomy, radiation, and chemotherapy - I was also waiting for Tom to speak up and say they were wrong. Seriously. Especially when the word chemotherapy was thrown around - I KNEW Tom was going to say no way!

If you've never read my entire blog (shame, shame, shame on you!) you'll remember that they originally told me the lump they found was only 7 millimeters big. I hate the metric system; I'm really not sure how big that is either, but they tell me it's small, ok? So, I was thinking to myself that, well, first they got my chart mixed up with someone else, and secondly that I was NOT going to have to go through chemo for something that tiny. If nothing else Tom wouldn't stand for it. But there he sat quietly. Tom was quiet. I know a lot of you who read this do not know Tom, but trust me when I tell you that the man doesn't stay quiet. Tom can have a two hour conversation with a mailbox - especially if that mailbox was a non-believing liberal politician (God, help it.)

As we were leaving the doctor's office, I was quite peeved with everyone...especially Tom! How dare he let them talk about doing those horrible things to me! Of course I was still crying and I asked him why; why didn't he speak up for me? It was simple he said: Lou (his mother) died of metastatic breast cancer. And then he said what I didn't know: she refused chemotherapy after her right breast was removed. He will always wonder if just going through the hell of chemotherapy would have saved her life. Any option and treatment they had for me, he wanted me to have. It was truly a matter of life and death.

Almost two years ago my friend Paul reached out to everybody I'd ever met in my entire life and begged them to pray for me. His sister Mary Beth, who lives in California, told everyone she's ever met in her entire life to pray for me. My best friend Julie cried with me. My brother called me (trust me that's a big deal!); my aunts and uncles sent gift cards for food; my cousins sent me gifts and took me out shopping; my Dad came and lived with me for months while I suffered through chemo; my church sent wonderful meals; and my mother directed everyone she knew (and probably didn't know) to my blog, and let me know how proud she was of me for being so strong. I think everyone I ever went to school with and worked with sent encouraging emails (shout out to Aaron, Ronnie, Kiva, Jim and Amy.)

I could go on forever thanking people for their gifts and prayers. Two years ago I got the worst news of my life. Two years ago I found out how many people in this world love me and it leaves me in awe.

Sleepy Girl in Kansas City Gets a Mammogram

2010-10-26T02:31:00.004-05:00

It's the middle of the night and I've been up watching TV and eating. I can't sleep anymore. It's gotten so bad that I don't know what to do. Ok, I know what to do - go see a doctor. You know what the doctor will do though, right? He'll give me more drugs to help me sleep. Oh, I think I'm on enough different medications and I don't need any more. Besides, most of the sleep aids make me sluggish the next day. I am to the point now where I envy people who can crawl in bed and fall asleep all on their own.

I know the title of my blog is Nothing To Worry About, but I spend a great deal of time worrying. About everything. There is a good chance this is what's keeping me awake at night. How do people shut off their mind and just fall asleep? This insomnia is killing me. I want one night that I go to sleep and I don't wake up again until morning.

Anyway, since I can't sleep I thought it was time I updated this (and I plan to keep it updated from here on out. We'll see how that goes.) On the cancer front: I am seeing my oncologist every three months now and so far all has gone well. I do have a lump in my right breast that they are keeping an eye on, but two mammograms have shown that it isn't growing, so they don't believe it's anything serious. They will continue to give me a mammogram every 6 months though, just in case.

Story time! This involves my last mammogram:

My oncologist makes all these appointments for me way far in advance - like three months! And I always mean to program those dates into my phone (cause you see I have one of those nifty iPhones that can do everything except drive a car.) The phone is unable to notify you if you always forget to add your appointments into the calendar. Because of this major phone malfunction, I miss a lot of appointments. Stupid phone. So I missed my scheduled mammogram and I needed to have one done before seeing Dr Young a few weeks ago. With a lot of begging and pleading, I was able to get a last minute appointment.

When I arrived, I ended up getting the same mammogram technician who did my very first mammogram. Talk about your major flashbacks! She didn't remember me. I tried to remind her who I was, too. I explained how I was there almost two years ago and she put my boobs in this machine and squeezed them - and yet not a spark of recognition from her.

We did get talking about all that I had gone through the last couple of years. Of course, she noticed the scars on my breasts and told me, as everyone who sees them tells me, that they look fantastic. I tell her thank you and said I was sure she had lovely breasts also - because, you know, I'm polite like that. It's at this point that she tells me that the sonogram giver tech girl (that is her official title) also had breast cancer and a double mastectomy. She had the same reconstruction surgery as me, too. That was kind of neat. I have never met anyone in real life who had the same surgery as me.

After getting my boobs squeezed in the machine, I had to wait while the radiologist reviewed the films to make sure I didn't need a do-over. As I was waiting, they brought over sonogram giver tech girl and we started talking about all we went through. She didn't have the same plastic surgeon as I, but hers was out of the same office. She asked me how many surgeries I had to have to get my breasts looking so nice and I told her I only had the one. She was a bit taken back. Seems sonogram giver tech girl had already had three surgeries and was waiting for her 4th.

Of course I tried to be subtle and gazed at the area where her breasts were. Oh my! I think that's what I thought. Her breasts were closer to under her arms instead the in front of her chest and seemed lower than they should have been. She busted me looking and told me that the next surgery was going to be getting the breasts more centered.

She was just another reminder of how blessed I am. I had one surgery; got great breasts and I'm done. I didn't give it much thought, but I guess I figured that's how it went for everyone. Silly me. I, of all people, should know that if it can go wrong...it will.

Almost two years ago I started this blog. It feels like that was forever ago. I'm back to almost 100%. I want to thank everyone for all their prayers and help as I went through this. And I'll wrap this up by reminding everyone that it's the end of October - which means it's the end of breast cancer awareness month. If you haven't already... GET A MAMMOGRAM!

The Family That Sits Together Stays Together

2010-02-08T17:54:00.004-06:00

There is very little to report, but it's been so long since I updated this, I decided I'd go ahead and write about the little things that have happened lately.

Instead of writing about finally hitting bottom on the depression scale and Tom, my dad and my doctor deciding perhaps a short stint in a happy hospital would be in order - I'll tell you about my furniture shopping experience that happened recently. (Don't worry, I'm working on the other thing.)

I've been very unhappy with my living room furniture for sometime now. With my horrible dust mite allergies, I can only have leather furniture. So, what I have is a brown leather couch and I HAD two black leather recliners. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but something in one of the recliners snapped. When you would sit in the chair your feet would pop up off the floor and you'd go backwards - not falling all the way over - but just enough that you felt like a turtle that has flipped over on his back. You're sitting there kicking your feet and waving your arms like you're swimming and praying the back of your head doesn't hit the floor behind you.

Needless to say, we had to cut that chair loose and we got a new one. A brown recliner. I THOUGHT it was the same color brown as the couch. It was not. So...I now have three pieces of leather furniture in my living room and none of them match. This displeases me greatly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, there are starving children in Morocco who would kill to have non matching leather furniture. Go ahead and say it... you think I'm spoiled. Well, I am not! It's time for new furniture! Remember what happened to the one black recliner? It has now happened to the other one. I don't want to put up a sign that says: sit here at your own risk!

I tell Tom I want a leather sectional - it will be perfect for the family room and it's more seating. Tom, being a man, can't see why I would want new furniture, but he begrudgingly agrees. Besides I explained - a sectional will bring the family closer. What? It can too!

We decide to do our furniture shopping on a day the kids are in school, so we don't have to listen to them whine. We picked last Friday and Tom schedules that day off from work. A good mom would have known that last Friday was a teacher in service day. I am not a good mom. Ok, kids will go with us. We wake up Friday morning to see a most lovely snow storm starting. I don't care! I'm going to buy my sectional! No kids or giant snow storm will get in my way! And off we go. The first store I find the one I want. Yayyy! Tom, though, says no - we should price shop. Drat.

Fine! Back out into the snow storm we go and we hit every furniture store we could find (two were closed due to the storm.) Night comes and I still haven't found a sectional I liked better than the first one. Ok, Tom says tomorrow we go back and get it. Yayyy! Saturday morning and everyone and their great grandmother are furniture shopping. Crowds make me VERY grumpy. Back to the first store we went to yesterday and Tom starts bartering the price and gets them down one hundred dollars. Yay! No. There was another one that looked a lot like the one at the first store but it was cheaper somewhere else. We need to go back to that store AND hit the stores that were closed due to snow storm the day before.

The kids and I are tired, cranky and we LOVE the first sectional! Fine, says Tom. And we head back to the first store (for the third time) to finally buy our sectional. We sit in it. I'm smiling as are the kids when Tom says the following words: "I think it's too big and it won't fit in the family room." Talking through clinched teeth I explain that it will fit.

"We'll go home and measure and if it will fit, I'll come back and buy it - you won't even have to come with me" begs Tom.

"NO, NO, NO" STOMPS FEET "IT WILL FIT BUY IT NOW" I casually request.

We went back and forth like this until the salesperson was nice and uncomfortable. I finally agree and we go home to measure.

I'm not going to tell you how it ends, because I hate that Tom was right. Also, I'm no longer speaking to him. He seems ok with this.

A New Year

2009-12-30T12:34:00.000-06:00

2010 has got to be a better year than 2009. I'd rather not live through another year like the one I've just gone through. I've heard about women who have battled cancer for YEARS! Not just one year like I have, but more than one - you know, like two years! Or more!

There is one woman whose blog I follow - she's going to be receiving chemo treatments for the rest of her life. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around that. How do you wake up in the morning knowing there is no end to having poison pumped into your body? I can tell you how: you just do. She's been called "amazing" and "strong" and "an inspiration," but like me what she really is is a mom. There are days you wake up and think: That's it! I don't think I can do this anymore! But you remember all the people who love you and you love back. And you try very hard not to imagine a world in which your children grow up without a mother...but sometimes you do think about it and it makes you stronger; it gets you out of bed. Your determination grows and you know you're going to kick some cancer butt (for me that lasts about 15 minutes then I start whining again.)

It's funny what chemo will do to your brain. When I say funny, I don't mean "ha ha" funny either. I mean funny in a sense of "give me a second, I'm having a hard time even remembering my name right now". Today I heard my children having this conversation:

Jacob: Do you remember the day we had to dress up at school as the person we wanted to be when we grew up?
Allison: Yeah, I dressed up as a teacher. I wore boots, a turtleneck shirt and blue jeans.
Jacob: That's how teachers dress?
Allison: Yes! Duh!

I didn't say anything even though I was thinking: That's how teachers dress? But mostly I was thinking how I had absolutely no memory of this dress-up day for them. I was hoping my daughter would ask my son what he dressed up as - I was too ashamed to tell them I didn't remember this day. And then I thought back on all the special moments I should have remembered this past year: my son's birthday in April; my daughter's birthday in July; valentine's day; Easter; MY birthday... all of it is blank. All of it! I'm sure Tom or my dad or maybe even I took pictures. I'm going to go find those pictures and stare in amazement that I was part of those days.

If I was.

I don't really know.

The point is: cancer stripped a year of my life as a mother from me. I was too sick to help out in the raising of my children, and the things that I might have actually done, I don't remember. This was one year for me. One. The number one doesn't sound like much, but when it comes to the life of my sweet children - being robbed of one is painful. I pray my nightmare journey with cancer is over - if it is not, I will do this coming year exactly what I did last year...survive anyway I have to. I'm a mom - it's what we do.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Recovering...

2009-11-30T17:22:00.002-06:00

You know how it is when you have a favorite pair of jeans (or shirt; or hat; or scarf; or husband) and the time comes to replace them? You can never find the comfort of the original again, right? That's kinda what I'm feeling about my blogs at the moment. I can't get a good comfortable feeling with my new blog. So, I'm back here! Yay!

Most people who have followed me on here have kept up with my up and down struggles (more downs than ups) every step of the way. I'm going to have to skip a huge chunk because tonight's story is *drum roll please* a butt story!! This happened today, so I'll tell it while it's fresh (teehee a fresh butt story) and then backtrack to how I got here in following posts. Everyone understand? Even if you understand only a little, I'm good with that since I'm on high doses of pain meds.

We need to slip back a few days to the day before Thanksgiving: Wed Nov. 25. This is the date of my latest surgery. A major, humdinger of a surgery. Since part of the operation was on my abdomen, I ended up in ICU for a couple days attached to continuous flowing pain medication. I also had a nifty morphine pump. And they were giving me Vicodin pills. Oh, there was also the Fentanyl injected into my IV anytime I was coherent enough to find the nurse call button and utter the word "pain".

Saturday afternoon I'm released from the hospital with a giant pain medicine prescription and three gross drain tubes coming out of my stomach area. These are the same type drains I had after my mastectomy. I hated them then, and you'll be pleased to note, I hate them maybe more now. Basically they keep your operated on site from swelling up by sucking out the liquid. At first it's a bright pink and as time goes on, the liquid is less pink and more just a nasty yellowish color which is almost where I was first thing this morning.

Now we're at this morning... Massive amounts of pain medications have been poured into my body because of a stomach surgery. More drugs than what they teach in medical billing classes. I've been told not to use my stomach muscles. Ask me how long it's been since I'd pooped? A week. I knew I was constipated. I knew constipated was probably bad.

I. Had. No. Idea. How. Bad.

The hospital never gave me anything to deal with the issue that was...errr.. ummm.. building up, well say. I was too out of it to even think about one day having to poop without using any stomach muscles at all. I set forth to combat the problem as best as I could - as soon as I thought about it...which was yesterday and this morning. Ahhh.. too little, too late. Or too much, too late.

I had to go! I tried to go! I sat for over an hour! AN HOUR, PEOPLE! My legs fell asleep. I thought about what my options were: call doctor's office and get suppository or worse an enema *shudders*. Nope, we must try everything else first. I mean, I know I'm not supposed to use my stomach muscles at all. I know they said no lifting, but this was an emergency! What's the worst that would happen?

The worst that could happen, it seems, is my nifty drains are now filling up with thick, dark red blood. Dr's office says sometimes this happens and it will correct its self. Watch carefully (duh) and if it doesn't improve after complete bed rest, I get to go back to the hospital.

On the upside... I'm poo free! Woo!

Sigh

Ex Cancer Girl Gone Wild

2009-09-01T14:56:00.000-05:00

Ok, I've set up shop and made my new blog! www.excancergirlgonewild.blogspot.com
Follow me down the road of surviving breast cancer, eating cheesecake, ignoring housework and parenting the short people that live in my house. It's like Christmas, but without the decorations or presents.

Becoming Whole

2009-08-10T21:23:00.000-05:00

This will likely be my last Nothing To Worry About blog post. I created this blog to stop the endless phone calls I was receiving from my family and friends who required daily updates on my condition. I'm so blessed to have so many people who love me, truly I am, but there was a moment that I thought to myself: "If one more person calls me today and asks how I'm feeling, I'm going to jump out the window." (First floor window, not second, because I've an extreme fear of heights.)

As for where I am today? The depression is probably my main focus. I was told I could get hit with depression, and danged if I didn't. Maybe I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall - but I can't seem to believe having breast cancer is over. While on vacation in Branson, MO last week I met a woman who is a 15 year survivor. When we started talking, I told her I have breast cancer even though I knew at the time it wasn't true. You see, I'm a breast cancer survivor, but I can't bring myself to say that. I can't put into words how scary it is to one day say those words - to believe them myself - only to find out it's not true. Just typing that made me cry.

I freakin' hate cancer! I hate it! It consumed my breasts and is consuming my life...STILL. Seven months of my life have been turned over to this monster. I remember that first day I found out - the surgeon telling me it will take me 6 - 9 months to beat this. It seemed impossible to believe. My dad watched me go through chemo and often stated his disbelief that with today's modern medicine treatments, chemo seemed almost inhumane. To my dad I say: WORD! (for the less hip folks, that means "so true.") Did you really have to almost kill me to heal me?

Now more than anything, I need energy and pain free days. I can force myself to get out of bed and be active, but the next day my legs are going to hurt. Anytime I've mentioned my legs to Dr Young, she ignores it. I'm supposed to go back for an EKG, echo thingy, chest x-ray and visit with the good doctor soon...once again I'll bring up my legs (not literally) and try to make her realize that when I say my legs hurt - I mean - My. Legs. Hurt!

And now about this here blog... I'm shuttin her down. I'll still keep a blog, but this one was strictly to follow my breast cancer journey. And that, my friends, has come to an end. I pray for an end to all cancers, but should you find yourself in contact with a person who wants/needs this journal - I want them directed my way without them wondering why I'm writing about flea and tick drops that don't seem to be working. Ya know?

There will be one more post after this one - it will give you a link to my new blog site. You won't have to go there. No pressure. I hear there might be free candy give aways though. (I purposely didn't post a story today even though I have MANY! I'm saving them for my new blog. But still, no pressure.)

Cancer Club

2009-07-12T16:55:00.000-05:00

When you get cancer you join a club you never wanted to be in. I'm in the official Breast Cancer Survivor Club. Breast cancer survivors are fantastic women - and I'm not just saying that because I am one now. The crazy part? If I think about all I've been through too hard, I still get upset. This happened Saturday. We took the kids out to eat and I noticed our waitress didn't have much hair. She noticed I was wearing my lovely new hat and asked me if I had cancer. I said yes. She is a 5 year survivor (and still didn't have hair! Yeah, that messed with me!)

After dinner, Tom and the kids ran off to a museum, but left me sitting to wait for them (I'm still very tired and can only do so much walking around.) Sitting there reminded me of how hard I used to try to NOT think about having cancer after I was diagnosed. Not thinking about having cancer is impossible. I never wrote about this story when it happened, because I was going through so much at the time. But Saturday I found myself sitting - waiting on my family - and getting more and more upset. Memories flooded back to me. Here's one:

I had decided that life was going to go on as normal while I waited for my surgeon to return from her trip to Africa. Between the time I was diagnosed and the time of my mastectomy all I wanted to do was crawl in bed - stay there and cry. There was no way I was going to allow my children to suffer along with me. We did as much as we could to keep busy and keep our minds off the nightmare that had begun. One of the things we did was take the kids to their school carnival. Man, that was a bad idea!

Thinking back, I'm not sure what it was that did me in that day; maybe it wasn't one specific thing. Here I was new in town and at a new school. I suddenly was missing my children's old school; I used to volunteer at their old school. At that school, I knew the layout, the teachers, the parents and the students. I missed the feeling of comfort at that school.

The kids right away ran off to be with their friends, Tom agreed to stay with Jacob, but Allison was too old to have her mom following her around. I was left alone, but I was quickly saved by one of Allison's classmates' moms. Thankfully, she knew I had cancer, but wasn't asking me to talk about it. She and I walked around the school looking in on the different booths that were set up - I was fighting the tears all day. I confided in her that I was an emotional mess and thought maybe I just needed to go home. That's when she did something very, very stupid...she left me alone. She had gone off to find Tom.

I stood alone in a hallway of an elementary school with children and their parents walking all around me - when I looked up I saw a booth that was set up to warn children about the horrors of smoking and lung cancer. That was it. That was the straw that broke my emotional back. I didn't start the delicate little crying either...oh no! I lost it. Crazy woman hysterically crying in hallway B. Clean-up, please!

The husband of the woman I had been walking with saw me almost instantly and raced off to find his wife. She came back to me and pulled me into an empty classroom. She hugged me and let me cry then told me she was going to get someone who was more suited to talk to me. Within minutes, my new friend returned and brought with her a beautiful woman who grabbed me and hugged me tightly to her for what seemed like forever. I remember thinking "wow, friendly!" She was a cancer survivor. After I pulled myself together, I was coherent enough to be properly humiliated and voiced this to her. I was told what I just did was perfectly normal. She had done it, too, but hers was at the grocery store in the dairy section.

I was able to get Tom and the kids and race outta the school. I'm actually glad now that I didn't know anyone. The idea that I might have done that at my kids' old school where their friends knew me was was not pleasant.

But here I was all these months later - breastless and hairless - and close to another meltdown. Seeing the waitress and hearing her excitement about hitting her five year mark, depressed me. Chances of a reoccurrance diminish greatly after five years. Five years suddenly seemed a lifetime away.

I'm taking this one day at a time. Unfortunately, that one day at a time finds me daily in front of the mirror checking for lump and bumps. Only four and a half years to go.

Out And About

2009-07-05T17:54:00.000-05:00

I'm not sleeping. Some time after the sun rises in the morning, I'm hopefully able to grab a couple hours. This is really affecting my mood, too, and not in a good way. Needless to say, I'm sluggish and tired and ohhh so grumpy. If you are someone I love, you are under fire of the wrath of Sheri. I'm trying very hard remind myself that no one is doing anything wrong - I'm just a loon with out of control hormones and getting very little sleep. I've given new meaning to the term emotional basket case. I'm here now to apologize to everyone I've unfairly gotten upset with. I'm here now to apologize in the future to those I will get upset with (I'm being realistic here.)

Today I decided instead of lying around the house all day I would get out and do something fun with the kids. We finally decided we would go downtown to see the fountains and do a bit of shopping. We could have gotten out there much earlier, but I had to take a nap; a shower; put on makeup; and yell at Tom, the kids and Spike, first. We had a good time when we eventually got out there. They allow the kids to run through the fountains, but I didn't think to bring bathing suits for the kids - the kids were disappointed. After that we walked and walked and walked around the Crown Center shopping plaza. I was exhausted. I'm hoping - being as tired as I am - that I'll finally be able to sleep because I got some exercise.

I'm not sure if it's the lack of sleep or if I truly don't care anymore, but today I did something I've never done before... We found a very cool hat store while we were out. I was wearing my new long wig (and I looked smashing, thank you very much) and I decided I was going to try on hats. With people milling around, I snatched off wig - displaying my bald head for the world to see - while I hunted for a lovely new hat. I found one. The next thing I did, I'm sure was because of sleep deprivation, though... The kids were toy shopping in the Crayola Store when I got hit by a nasty hot flash; I whipped off my wig and put on my new hat in the middle of that store.

My head is looking ridiculous right now. I'm finally growing hair! Yay! But just in patchy areas. I have fluffy soft sprouts on the top of my head and not a whole lot around the sides and back. At this point, I don't care. Hair is hair.

*It was very difficult for me to concentrate to write this blog post. If you find any errors, please report your findings to menopausesucksandIdon'tcareifImessedup.com

My Blog

2009-07-03T15:04:00.000-05:00

Over the last week or so I've started several blog posts, but finished none. Every time I would go back to reread what I wrote, I felt sure I had written it all before. But I thought I should update to let everyone know how I am doing.

I'm still having issues with my digestive system. The hot flashes are as bad as ever and I'm still tired all the time. Hey, it's not like I didn't warn you I had nothing new to blog about.

I'm having trouble sleeping. It's messing with my mood and making me insaney-er. Completely. I mean, if you see my name on your caller ID... run. Screaming. You should be safe though, since I decided to not call anyone for the last couple weeks. Or e-mail. Or leave the house. I'm just so tireddddd!

Cancer really sucks. Don't get it.

I Heart Hair

2009-06-19T21:41:00.000-05:00

Today was a big day: I got out of bed, took a shower, got dressed and left my house. Every other day this week has been spent either in bed or soaking my insanely achy muscles in a hot bath. I've also whined and complained. A lot. But today I had to go to the wig store and I had to get my heart checked. Get the title now?

I went to the wig store to get a wig cap to wear under my wigs. I don't like wearing the wigs and am hoping that the wig cap will make them a bit more comfortable. Ok, I also bought a new wig today, too. Tom says I am an out of control impulse shopper. Just because I've got two wigs that I can't stand wearing and have only worn one out in public once, I can't get a third one? Sure, I didn't plan to buy a new wig today. Yeah, wigs are expensive. But this wig is different than my other two...it's long and the color is the color my hair used to be. When I tried this wig on I felt like myself. Long, very dark brown hair is who I am. I think another reason I don't like wearing those other two wigs is I don't look like me in them. I'm going to grow my hair out long again and it is going to take years. It will be nice to have a wig I can slip on on days that I miss my hair while I'm waiting for it to grow back out. (See how I've justified this so it is NOT looking like an out of control impulse buy?)

While I was at the wig store I met a woman who had just lost her hair because of chemo. We got to talking and she asked what kind of cancer I had and I told her my sad little sob story. And, of course, I asked about her cancer... Wow! You know how they say no matter how bad you've got it, there is always someone who is worse? I met that person today. This sweet woman has stage 4 cancer in 7 vital organs ranging from her lungs to her stomach to her liver. She has to have chemo for at least a year. So far she's only had one chemo treatment, but she's still feeling fine. She never stopped smiling. I will keep her in my prayers.

Then on to get my heart checked. Today I had an EKG and an Echo - I failed the EKG. My blood pressure was 90/70 and my heart rate was 111. After seeing these numbers, the nurse there asked if I'm tired all the time. Seriously. Hi, I'm Sheri...we've obviously not met - I do nothing but whine about being tired all the time. They said they were going to send my results to my oncologist and I sat there trying to think of a way to talk them out of doing that. Good heavens, don't tell my doctors something is wrong with me! They like to throw me in the hospital! Thankfully, not this time, though. Dr. Young isn't concerned with my sinus tachycardia (that's what I was told I have from the heart place peeps.) As long as my fever is gone, I should stay hospital free. My simple solution has been to stop taking my temperature. So far, so good...since I've stopped taking my temp, I've had no fever. Whew.

Can anyone else hear my mom saying: "Sheri Lynn, you take your temperature right now!" Aww, Mom! Do I have to?

**Pictures are of old wigs

Big Sighhhhhh.....

2009-06-15T14:45:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning feeling yucky. I'm finished with chemo! I'm not supposed to be getting sick anymore. When my temp hit 100.7, I decided I wasn't going to wait for the doctor to tell me what to do. I took Tylenol and THEN I called the doctor. Yep, I a rebel. My entire body aches; I have a headache, and a small dry cough. I'm not doctor, but I think it's malaria with just a touch of swine flu and a slash of mycoplasma pneumoniae.

Without even seeing me, Dr. Young disagreed with my self diagnosis. Whatever. She called me in a 'script for antibiotics.

I'm wickedly grouchy today. Malaria does that to you.

Four Oh

2009-06-12T13:45:00.000-05:00

Today I turn forty years old. Today is also exactly four weeks since my last chemo treatment. I've decided enough is enough - no more whining! This has been the most unbelievable year of my life, and you know what sounds so weird? I'm not sure I would change a thing.

A completely real conversation that really did happen:

RC: Really, Sheri? Do you hear what you just said? You wouldn't change getting cancer again? The hell your family went through, because of your cancer. Explain yourself.
Me: Because of this cancer I created this blog which caused me to meet someone who told me to join facebook - joining facebook caused me to reconnect with YOU and many other people from my past.
RC: Nice try! Cancer can kill you and you could have missed out on watching your children grow up.
Me: But it didn't kill me. The blessings I've received you wouldn't believe. Remember my last blog post? The one in which I whined like a big ol baby?
RC: I remember. I thought about sending AS over with her new hoe to pop some sense into your head.
Me: Yeah, well, that blog got 28 comments, 37 facebook book comments/emails and 91 emails. Most of those emails were from people I don't even know. People who said they loved me and have been praying for me from the beginning. I've received messages from entire churches across the country telling me that they heard about me through my cousin's friend's sister (or however) and have sent out word for prayer from other churches in their area. People around the world have found my blog and have written to tell me they are praying for me. I truly believe hundreds of thousands of people in this world (mostly people who don't even know me) are praying for me. This is the most humbling and truly amazing thing that can ever happen to a person. I got breast cancer, but I've never felt more blessed in my life.
RC: I'm sorry I questioned you. I had no idea. You are a remarkable person and I'm honored to know you. I'm also sorry I was mean to you in elementary school. I only acted that way because you were the prettiest girl in the whole school.

This has been a year that would be impossible to forget. My last birthday should have been a sign to the kind of year I was going to have...

June 12, 2008

It started out a lovely day and the kids and I decided in the afternoon to do some shopping. We had an early lunch and by the time 5:00 rolled around we were pretty hungry. We're in a store and while we are paying for our items we hear thunder rolling outside. Not just any thunder either - the kind that sounds like it's hitting right on top of you and makes you jump out of your shorts while it rocks the building you're in. When we get to the door to leave we notice a crowd of people standing around peeping outside. We manage work our way through the people and see the most unbelievable rain coming down outside. I stood there with my mouth hanging open watching a storm that's caused the outside time to appear to be midnight rather than 5 pm.

I tell the kids we are parked really close and we are going to make a run for it. Of course that's when the hail started. And we stand there watching as the ground becomes covered with ice, so much so that you can't even see the ground anymore. Ok, we won't run for it. When the hail finally stopped, the rain was still coming down in sheets, but I told the kids we were still getting out of that store - no one else was leaving, but I refused to spend my 39th birthday trapped in a store. I grab a child's hand in each one of mine and just as we are about to set foot outside...tornado sirens.

A store manager came up and was explaining that there was a tornado on the ground in the small town about 5 miles outside of Topeka. He went on to tell us that the basement of the store was available and started leading people people to it. Oh no, there was no way. I was grabbing my kids and we were out of there!

We get in the van and I realize I forgot to find out which direction the tornado was heading. If it wasn't even heading toward Topeka, we may as well go out to eat. I turn on the radio and all I can get is station after station telling everyone in the listening area to seek cover. Well, that's not helpful. I guess that means we're going home. But we're hungry and I don't want to cook on my birthday! I tell the kids we're going to stop and grab something at first place we see on our way home. I pull into the Sonic and push the little button. Someone comes on the speaker to tell me that they aren't serving people right now, because we're under a tornado warning. Really? You're in Kansas! And if you're not going to serve people just because of tornadoes you're going to lose a lot of business!

Finally we are able to get some food at Burger King and take it home. We settle down in the basement to eat our fast food and wait for the storm to pass. The kids are getting a bit scared because the stupid sirens have been going off for almost an hour now and it does tend to get a bit nerve wracking. I flip on the TV in the basement to see if the storm is close to passing. It wasn't. Each time a huge storm cell would pass, another one would explode overhead. Tornadoes were forming everywhere and the rain was pounding.

Too much rain at our Topeka house was a bad, bad thing. I hold my breath and say a prayer as I step into the back room of the basement...still dry! As I turn to walk out, the window catches my eye. It looked weird. Upon closer inspection I notice the window well was about half full of water. Oh, God, please let the window hold! I say a pray and walk out shutting the door behind me. There was nothing I could do. The kids were crying. The rain won't stop. Tornado sirens making me crazy. Enough! It was time to call Tom. He was about 45 minutes north of Topeka on an Indian Reservation. Because the day was going along so smoothly, of course I couldn't get Tom on his cell phone. The reservation is a dead zone.

Obviously we made it through that storm unharmed, but that was just the beginning of the fun filled year I had. Blowing up a trash truck; our house selling too quickly so I only had one weekend to find a new house; my van being wrecked twice; the day we had to be out of our old house, the mortgage company calling to say they made a mistake and we couldn't close on our new house that day (the old house was packed up and the moving truck was there); and, of course, being diagnosed with cancer. What a year!

Today I'm feeling very blessed to be turning 40. I believe I'm ready for whatever God has in store for me this year. I'm certain it will be exciting.

The End

2009-06-08T20:56:00.000-05:00

This has been an extremely emotional last few days for me. I'm still trying to recover from my last infection which left me completely wiped out - add that to the menopause that chemo created - plus the huge decision I made this past Friday...it's a wonder I've still got any sanity left at all. Some may say I don't. At this point I won't argue.

This blog is going to be the hardest blog I've ever written. I'll start where I left off from my last post...

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I went to bed with unbelievable dread inside me. I knew when I woke up it would mean it was time to get more chemo pumped into my body. All night I tried to sleep, but couldn't. I threw a pity party and cried a little, but mostly I did absolutely nothing all night long except think about what the next week or so was going to be like. I had to remind myself that millions of people have gone through these treatments and were able to handle them and dang it, I could handle it, too! My thoughts were on my children and how much they needed me and how desperately I needed to be there for them. Just two more treatments. For Allison and Jacob. Destroy the cancer and stay alive!

Friday, June 5, 2009

The sun rose without me getting one moment of sleep. My dad had gone back to Florida and it was my mom's turn to drag the emotional wreck of a daughter to chemo. We get to the hospital early and I try to remain calm, but I feel myself falling apart. I found myself praying a lot that morning, but my mind was such a mess I wasn't sure what I was praying for. I was just so sleepy and sick and sore and wishing I was anywhere except at that hospital. How was it possible three weeks had passed since my last treatment. Another hospital stay in between treatments. The stress this was putting on Tom and the kiddos. I hated, desperately hated, my babies having to watch me go through this.

Time came finally and I got called back to the infusion room. My port was accessed, blood was taken, and I peed in the little cup. All that was left for me to do was talk to Dr Young then I would be hooked up to the IV so the poison could start flowing into my body. I have to leave the infusion room to get my quick exam done by Dr. Young. I don't have to wait long - the good doctor studies my chart and we chat for a moment about my latest hospital stay. It's at this moment that Dr. Young reminds me that I've already had four treatments - which was her original recommendation. She tells me that in those four treatments I've managed to get two pretty severe infections plus hospitalized for countless number of days. She doesn't think my body can handle much more. As of right now, none of the infections have affected any of my major organs. Let's quit the chemo now, she says.

Quit? I didn't even think about it. Yes, I told her. I was crying. I couldn't do another treatment. I was fighting the fight, and I was losing. There was no more fight left in me that day. Quit. Yes. I will quit. When I agreed to quit the treatment, I didn't think of anyone but myself - I just knew that right then and there I couldn't continue on. I also knew I didn't want to celebrate the news. Usually when you finish your chemo treatments there is a big production of ringing the bell in the infusion center. I felt defeated. I lost the fight. I didn't want to ring the bell - I didn't feel I deserved it.

The nurses cheered my news when they heard I was done. They probably thought I was crying happy tears, but I wasn't. I had to sit back down in the infusion room while they deaccessed my port. I wanted to scream that I changed my mind - that I wanted my poison. But I couldn't. What was I doing? My thoughts were so muddled at that point, I was almost hysterical screaming on the inside while trying to remain calm on the outside. What I wanted more than anything was to run back into Dr. Young's office and tell her I changed my mind. But I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I was ashamed that I couldn't.

Don't get me wrong...I knew what Dr. Young was saying was true. Chemo was all but destroying my body. It was getting harder and harder just to walk, because of the muscle pain it was causing me. There were many days I didn't leave my bed except to go to the bathroom. I'd read a lot about the drugs I was receiving and talked to a few people who had received the exact drugs - it seemed to me that these drugs were ravaging my body more severely than it did to others. I still sit in amazement thinking of the people who never missed a day of work while receiving the very treatment that caused me to spend half my time admitted to the hospital. But still...I had done four treatments. Two more? I couldn't do two more? For my family? I had this great life planned out ahead of me for when I finished my treatments. Six treatments of three chemotherapy drugs! That was the plan! If my cancer came back - I would know I did everything in my power the first time around. But I quit.

I can still call the doctor and tell her I changed my mind and get my next dose this week. I can't bring myself to do it though. Very few people have been told that I quit, because I can't talk about it. Most people are ready to celebrate my news. I'm just not there yet. It's almost impossible to explain exactly what I feel. But I know I don't want to hear congratulations, because right now I am sure I don't deserve that. Maybe all I need is time for this to sink in that it's finally over and I can move on to a subject that isn't cancer. There's a crazy thought. One thing is certain - this is the end of my chemo. I won't be changing my mind.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2009-06-04T12:15:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The summer heat is upon us which can only mean one thing: fighting over the temp in the house. Honestly! Tom believes a house isn't livable until you can see your breath; I, on the other hand, believe you shouldn't have to wear a parka in your home during the summer months. We compromise. During the day while Tom is at work I will knock the temp up, then an hour before he gets home I run the temp back down again. On this particular Wednesday I forgot to make the house cooler before the iceman cometh home. OK, yes, I do know that the thermostat can be programmed to automatically adjust the temp throughout the day - but that would require me having to read instructions, and really...that is so not going to happen.

So, Tom gets home and mumbles something about bursting into flames then readjusts the air temp himself. I was so cold that night I couldn't sleep. By 3 am I am shivering and wearing pretty much all my clothes at the same time. I finally decide I'm going to go sit in a bath of scalding hot water to warm up. This worked for a few minutes, then I was right back to shivering again. By 4:30 I was able to fall asleep, but not for long. I'd only slept for about an hour or so when I woke up and something clicked inside my frozen head...perhaps I should take my temperature. Turns out the house was no colder than normal, I just happen to be getting sick. Super!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

I wake up Tom and tell him I've got a fever. We now have to decide when is the best time to call the doctor. I'm not allowed to have a fever of over 100.5 and already I was up to 101. It was 6 am and we knew the doctor on call would just tell us to go to the emergency room. We strongly dislike the emergency room. Of course, this meant doing nothing until the doctor's office opened at 8:00. As we tried to decide how to handle this my fever continued to rise. I also had a pretty nasty pain on the left side of my chest where my breast used to be - I could tell it was starting to swell and it was tender to the touch.

Next thing I remember I'm at the hospital infusion center where I receive my chemo treatments. I guess while deciding what to do at home, I fell asleep and when I wasn't asleep I was somewhat delirious. I don't remember that, but I'm sure it was fun. At the hospital, Dr Young seemed very unconcerned. I received a couple of Tylenol to break the fever, a chest x-ray for the pain in my chest, an IV bag of fluids, plus my first dose of oral antibiotics. I was told the antibiotics needed 12 hours to clear up the fever - until then, go home and rest.

Friday, May 29, 2009

My fever is laughing at the antibiotics I had been given. The Tylenol would bring my temperature down for a moment before it would spike back up again. I felt truly horrible. Another call in to the doctor's office where they tell me to to add another OTC fever reducer to the mix. My chest hurt and I was getting more and more frustrated by the lack of concern from my doctors. It wasn't until I threw up in my sleep that the doctors' finally told me to come back in so they could take another look-see. I was a bit surprised they wanted to see me again - then I realized it wasn't Dr Young who wanted me to come in again - it was her partner. Dr Young had left town.

I was immediately admitted into the hospital. While the day before, Dr Young could see nothing wrong with my chest - her partner AND all the nurses could clearly see how swollen the area was. But not only that, the area was red and warm to the touch. Oh, Dr Young, you make it so hard for me to love you.

They put me on some powerful antibiotics; tried to make me eat and watched me throw up for the next few days. I was absolutely miserable. The fever wouldn't go away! They had me on cool (as in cold, not cool as in totally hip) IV fluids that they swore would make me feel better. In their world shivering even harder is feeling better - isn't the case in mine, but I've never had professional training and they have, so what do I know? This was my first hospital stay where they tried to respect my sleep. Unless the doctor was there to see me or I was being wheeled off for lab work, they left me alone. They would wait til I woke up to make me take my handfuls of pills or give me shots in my stomach. I appreciated this.

At some point something started working, because my fever disappeared. Unfortunately when my fever disappear it didn't take with it the pain in my chest. It was decided that I needed to get a sonogram on that area But, of course, by this point, my doctor tells me any fluid that is found will have been cleared up by the antibiotics, so they may not be able to tell what it was that caused this sickness in the first place. He said they really should have checked that before the antibiotics. Sigh. Anyhoo, I got my sonogram and the next day I got the pocket of fluid drained.

Soon after getting the area drained they let me go home. And I went to bed. Which is where I've stayed. And wouldn't leave if I didn't have a chemo treatment tomorrow. This infection wiped me out. I've not had much energy anyway, but this is as bad as I've been in a long time. And it's only going to get worse after tomorrow. Oh yippy.

Now What???

2009-05-28T23:51:00.000-05:00

Way more tired than usual today. I had a very high fever and pain in my ribs which caused me to have to go to the hospital. Too out of it to blog about it today. I'll get y'all updated tomorrow.

Thanks for the prayers..

Breasts

2009-05-25T15:20:00.000-05:00

I have two 6 1/2 inch (yep, I measured) scars where my breasts used to be. I'm really not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. Please don't feel sorry for me; I'd rather have those scars than cancer. It still amazes me that I went to the doctor for a simple thyroid problem and two month later ended up with these scars and no hair. Crazy. Seriously, crazy. I'm the type that goes to the doctor positive I have strep throat and the test ALWAYS comes back negative.

The other day Tom and I were talking about that phone call that changed my life forever. How I still dreamt about it. There are days the phone rings and I have flash backs to that call. I remember that call word for word; the tone in her voice as she told me I had cancer. I remember how I repeated back to her the word cancer and the expression on Tom's face when I said it. A breast cancer survivor friend of mine was horrified when she heard they told me the news over the phone instead of calling me into the office. I'm not sure I could have handled that. They don't usually call you in to tell you everything is ok, ya know? I would have known something was up and been completely freaked out until the appointment. There really is no good way to tell you you havce cancer, in my opinion.

That first office visit they tried to tell me all I really needed was to have the rest of lump removed. In the beginning Tom, my surgeon, my oncologist and a few other family members were all trying to tell me to go ahead with just a lumpectomy and chemo. I was never more scared of anything in my entire life. What if my surgeon missed something? Could I take that chance with my life? From the beginning I had something inside me telling me I needed more than a lumpectomy. Turns out it was God and I'm glad I listened. For those of you who haven't read my whole story, or who have forgotten - after my mastectomy they found a second mass in my left breast - a tumor that didn't show up on my mammogram or MRI.

So, here I am without breasts trying to decide if I should have implants or not. I don't have to have actual implants either - I can have the them take muscle and fat from my stomach to create breasts. From what I understand that is extremely painful, though. Plus they will create these neat fake nipples and tattoo on the aureoles. The nipples won't be responsive so I'll always look like I'm cold. I just can't decide what to do. There are times I don't mind not having any breasts. I like not wearing a bra. No bouncing when I run and jump (yeah, ok, I know they won't bounce IF I were to run and jump.) On the negative side: tight fitting t-shirts are out! I look ridiculous! And I have to worry about my weight and the fact that my stomach could someday pop out further than my chest giving me that potbelly look. We don't want that. Nope.

Next month I'm going to be 40 years old. I promise you before all this started I was completely unhappy with my breasts. I wonder if there are any 40 year old women (with their natural breasts) who love their breasts. Is there any woman who looks down in the shower and thinks "they're still soooo beautiful!". I know breast feeding two children was unkind to mine. Much thought had been given to someday having a breast lift. Women who have breasts that are large wish for small breasts; women with small breasts wish for large breasts. My wish is that I had mine back - just the way they were. Please don't tell me if that's what I wish I should have the surgery to get implants. Those won't be mine. Fake nipples and tattoos? Absolutely no feeling in my chest area? Yeah, people, totally not the same. I did the right thing having them removed, but I miss them. I mourn for them.

I don't usually write blogs like this. I much prefer to tell stories than to write about a random subject matter. But I needed to vent. Today I wore a tight gray t-shirt and decided I'd wear a sports bra underneath (I dunno why either) after a couple hours of doing the junior high bra pull down because there was nothing that was keeping the bra from riding up - I had to take the stupid thing off. It made me sad. While I know I'm not going to change anyone's life with this post, I hope you pause and think - at least for a moment - and be happy with what you have. Trust me it's better than nothing.

I can't end this without a story:

A couple weeks ago it was a beautiful sunny day and I decided I would take advantage of my beastlessness and wear a shirt that required no bra. I put on my spaghetti strap top with the build in padded bra. Problem was, without anything to pad the bra was gaping open and you could see my scars. After much consideration I finally decided I only had one option: stuff shirt with socks - and that's what I did. I used two big, fluffy, hot pink socks all balled up and it looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. When Tom and the kids got home they were most impressed by my new figure (they all noticed right away.) In fact, I was feeling so good I wanted to go out to dinner; so out to dinner we went.

I was in a good mood and I noticed a few people staring at me, as usual. Yeah, yeah, I have no hair - or maybe they were staring at my hot chest. I noticed the waitress kept giving me a really sweet smile. I did notice she was checking out my chest, too. You can tell I have cancer, and usually you can tell I have no breasts...maybe she was trying to figure out what kind of cancer I had. Or she noticed what I noticed on the drive home: one of my hot pink socks was falling out of my shirt. Classy!

Quick Update

2009-05-23T22:44:00.000-05:00

I've not been feeling well - lots of headaches and very tired. Tomorrow I'm going to get back in the blogging swing of things!

Blogging Naked

2009-05-19T09:25:00.000-05:00

This blog title was suggested by a wonderful woman/friend from my church. It's not as it sounds! I mean I am blogging and I am naked...wait - I guess it is as it sounds. But not for reasons you might think! Though who am I to know what you are thinking? For all I know you're thinking that I'm sitting butt-stark-naked in a bath of ice cold water while blogging because I can't get my hot flashes under control. Good call you! But you're only half right.

I started blogging naked long before menopause hit me. Naked blogging started when my muscles started hurting so badly after chemo that all I wanted to do was sit in a tub of hot water and soak all day. And so that is exactly what I started doing. I would read while I soaked. Sometimes (and never on purpose) I would sleep while I soaked. I finally figured out one day that I can make this a productive operation. The picture you see here is the set up I've done. Not too shabby, eh? (Pointing finger to top on my head...more than a hat rack my friends)

The menoblogsoak (TM Sheri) is still a work in progress. When a hot flash hits, I hightail it to the bathroom and fill my giant soaker tub full of cool water while I quickly move over my laptop, cell phone, house phone, ice cold drink, snacks and music. Spike, of course, supervises the entire operation by barking the whole time...I'm not sure what that's all about, but the system seems to work for us. After I'm completely set up in the tub, and Spike is locked out of the bathroom area - I get to work. Important items done first - figure out what bath salts to use (check!) Make sure entire body is wet by twirling in tub like a mermaid (check!) Wonder if I locked the bathroom doors so no one can see me twirling in tub (dang!) Stop twirling (check!) Daydream (check!) Think about what to blog (check!) Wonder how it's even humanly possible to sweat while sitting in a tub of cold bath water, but yet I am! (check!) Check facebook (check!) Check emails (check!) Check odd looking mole on knee and remember to ask doctor about it next time (check!)

Finally down to business. Or not. I'm tired of being in the bathtub now. I want to go to bed. Tomorrow - blogging in my jammies (aka blogging.)

Burnin' Love

2009-05-18T04:15:00.000-05:00

Burnin' love is a sarcastic title. I've started having hot flashes. Hot flashes are no fun. Not only are hot flashes no fun for me, but they are going to be even less fun because of the trail of mayhem and misery I've left behind because of them. I'm not joking. Repeat. I'm. Not. Joking.

Oh, I hear what you're asking me now! I hear the questions such as: Oh, most precious and beautiful Sheri (you will call me precious and beautiful Sheri from here on out - jeepers it's hot in here - someone open a flippin' window! AAAAAAARRRRRGGG! I ask for so little.) I lost my train of thought. Oh! Right! You were asking me questions about how it could be possible that a very young woman who is only still in her 30's could be having hot flashes. Surely I can't be going into menopause, you ask.

You.

Would.

Be.

Wrong.

Freakin', stupid, chemotherapy has shut down my one last little remaining ovary and has thrown me into menopause. Thankfully I'm extremely moody to go along with having these wicked hot flashes. Example:

Tom: I'm leaving out of here, you want me to leave the ceiling fan on for you?

Me: (thinking to self: are you the only one in the world who gets to enjoy the breeze of a ceiling fan?) (says through clinched teeth): I'm having a hot flash...leave it on.

Tom: What's the difference between being hot and having a hot flash?

Me: (thinking to myself: usually I don't want to find a blunt object and beat you upside the head with it when you ask me questions when I'm just hot) (says through clinched teeth): one minute I'm fine and the next I'm sweating bullets so much so that my clothes are dripping wet.

Tom: Yeah, I guess that would be blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Me: (thinking to myself: where is the closest blunt object)

Tom: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Me: (thinking to myself: I think the last time my underwear felt this wet was the last time I rode the log ride at Six Flags Over Texas.)

Me: (looking around at items on table and wondering if hand lotion could be considered a blunt object)

Tom: Sorry you're feeling so poorly.

Me: (thinking to self: that was sweet of him to say...awww) Get! Out! (Geez, did I say that out loud or in my head??? Who cares!?!? How can one person sweat this much??????)

My Black Friday

2009-05-14T22:05:00.000-05:00

Chemo tomorrow. This means no blog posts until the sickness calms down. I'm not sure it's any easier now knowing what to expect with each treatment. In someways I think it's tougher...

As He has so far - God will get me through this next very rough week or so. Then I'll be back with bells on.

Help!

2009-05-13T12:55:00.000-05:00

All my wonderful cancer fighters out there I need your help! I've lost my sense of taste. Everyday it seems to be getting a little worse. I can no longer taste sweet - chocolate has absolutely no taste and my precious cheesecake tastes like I'm eating a stick of butter. Last night I couldn't taste anything on my supreme pizza except the olives (I hate olives!) and I can still taste sour. Is it possible to reverse this? I'm rinsing with salt water several times a day and brushing my teeth (and tongue) several times a day, too. When I was last at the doctor she confirmed that I do not have thrush again (thank God!)

Advice? Please? I think this is a side effect of Adriamycin (I'm taking TAC, but I believe it's just the Adria that is causing this...I could be wrong)

How I Cope...

2009-05-12T13:33:00.000-05:00

Besides being asked how the children are handling my illness (they are great, thanks!), I'm often asked how I seem to cope so well with all this cancer crappola. There are a few days I fall apart, but mostly, I think, I just take each day as it comes. Of course, having a sense of humor helps greatly. After I get a treatment and I'm lying on the bathroom floor enjoying the feel of the cool tile on my face, I think of things that make me laugh. I thought I'd share some examples:

Ok, so here's what happened when we were getting ready to move to Olathe, KS from Topeka...

Our house sold to the first person who looked at it - which was the first week on the market. Tom and I were not prepared for this, so we started working like crazy people to get ready for the move. The worst part of the entire move process was going to be cleaning out our garage. It was an over-sized garage and while we both parked our cars in there, the backside of the garage was wall to wall junk. In Topeka no matter how much trash you put out on trash day the trash men would take it. We decided we had 4 weekends to throw as much of the garage junk away as possible.

I couldn't help much because the garage was just too dusty. But by the time the 3rd weekend rolled around, I realized Tom couldn't finish alone. I donned a dust mask, went out to help finish the nightmare job. As far as I was concerned, everything out there was trash. I paid little attention to what I was tossing quickly away. We worked the entire weekend and got up early on trash day to make sure everything was finally either packed or tossed.

After we finished, and heard the trash men in the neighborhood, Tom decided he had to leave to do some sort of important errands. I peeked out the window to watch the horror expressions of the poor men who were faced with a mountain of junk in front of our house. They took it all; squished it down and went on their way. About 5 or so minutes after the trash truck left I heard the most incredible explosion - it shook the house. Then quiet. Then the sound of firetrucks. I shrugged my shoulders and went about my business in the house...until I saw two very angry looking men walking up to my door.

Crap. They clearly were from the city of Topeka, and I figured they were coming to yell at us for putting too much junk out that past month. Nooooo... that was not why they were there. The conversation went a little something like this:

City Dude: (angry voice) Are you Mrs. Strickland

Me: (trying to decide if I have to answer this honestly or not) Um, yes?

CD: Mrs. Strickland did you throw pool chemicals away today?

Me: (remembering the bottles of pool chemicals Tom had shoved aside, but I tossed without thinking into the trash can.) Hmmm... I'm not sure I did, but my husband - who is not home - might have done that...

CD: Ma'am, you cannot throw something like that into your trash! The bottles opened and once the chemicals hit the water inside the truck they exploded.

Me: (jaw dropped and unable to speak) (at this point I step out of my house and look down the street to where they were pointing) (there was a trash truck being sprayed with water from one of several firetrucks, which was being filmed by many news crew trucks) I... uh... er... umm... whoa... uhhh...

CD: No one was hurt, thankfully, but you have got to be more careful!

Me: Absolutely! I'm so sorry. I didn't know...I mean, my husband didn't know. It was him. Not me. He's not home or he'd tell you he did it. Yep, he did it. Not me. Stop staring at me like that! Fine! It was me! I did it! I exploded a Topeka trash truck! I did it! Me! Me! Me!

CD: Just don't do it again.

Me: You have my word that I will never, ever, ever blow up another Topeka trash truck!**

The following week was our last week in the house and once again we put a pile of junk in front of the house for the trash men to pick up. I carefully peeked out the window when they arrived - I was fearful they would no long take our trash. They took it. But first they grabbed a large hose and sprayed everything down with water before picking it up and throwing it in the truck.

This was the same move in which the moving truck backed into the side of my van and Spike ran away. Moving into a beautiful new neighborhood with a dented up van and running up and down the street screaming for Spike while knocking on doors. We made a great first impression.

My neighbors are amazing. People actually brought us cookies while we were moving in. I want to give a Shout Out to my neighbor/friend Sonya for all that she's done for us since we moved in and especially after finding out I have cancer. I feel blessed to have moved next door to such an awesome family. Thank you!

**I've kept my word and have never again blown up another trash truck. In Topeka.

Tried But(t) Failed!

2009-05-11T13:51:00.000-05:00

Last Friday I went to the doctor, because I felt it had been far too long since someone inspect my bottom while trying to make casual conversation with me. Actually, I was having bouts of pain returning. I was informed that a fistula and abscess can return once you've had them while you are going through chemo. Imagine my delight. No, really. Imagine. Gah! The Lord blessed me greatly! No sign of a new abscess! The pain I've been feeling is the original wound - it's not healed completely. In fact, the stitches aren't even dissolved. But no sign of infection!

The sporadic rear pain became, once again, a pain in my butt (so to speak.) Because my wound wasn't healed yet, they could not give me my drug trial med AGAIN. Part of the condition when you join the drug trial is that you will not go longer than a certain amount of time without taking the medicine. Because of my butt surgery, I had already missed two doses of the med (my drug trial med has a side effect of not letting wounds heal - therefore I couldn't take it at all until my bottom was all nice and healthy again.) Friday was my last chance to take the med or be kicked out of the program. I just wasn't healed enough, so Dr Young booted me out of the trial with her snake skinned, slingback, pointed toed, stilettos.

This trial was very important to me, as you will remember. For every other kind of breast cancer there is a drug that can be taken to block the hormone that feeds the cancer. Doctors still have no idea why I got breast cancer, because none of the three hormones feed it. There was hope that my trial med would be the drug that would prevent a return. The percentages for my cancer to return elsewhere in my body are far too high for me to think about most days. Now I'm out of the trial. Now I try not to live in fear. Now I turn this over to God completely or go insane. Insane-er? More insane-er?

This Friday is my next chemo treatment. The dread in my body is overwhelming, to say the least. Three treatments done, three to go. I close my eyes, hold my breath, say a prayer and trudge forward. No more lying down and digging my fingernails into the road while I'm being dragged along. I hate chemo, but I love my life.

It's All Good - Even When It's Bad

2009-05-05T11:27:00.000-05:00

I had decided yesterday that I was going to take a break from my laptop. My laptop is my link to nonstop cancer. As you can tell, I've changed my color scheme on my blog page. I got tired of the pink ribbons. I'm tired of all pink things. I'm tired of the musician Pink. (She wrote a song rubbing her ex-husband's face in the fact that she's a rock star. Maybe he was such a lousy husband because all she would do was talk about how she was a rock star and he wasn't.) I'm tired of cancer and all things cancer related.

Taking a break from my laptop probably isn't something I'm going to be able to do. But I am burned out. I have several chemo side effects that are keeping me from going out and frolicking in the sun. Truth be told, yesterday I had decided it was time to just quit chemo. I have a tired that has set in my body and taken control of my life in a way that is impossible to explain. The only people who know what "it's a tired you've never felt in your entire life" means are the ones who have had chemo. I decided before I announced to my family and doctors that I was quitting chemo, I'd test the water with one of my closest friends. The conversation went EXACTLY like this:

Me: After much prayer I've been thinking maybe I'm not going to finish my chemo treatments.

AB: Why?

Me: The side effects are more than I can handle. I've lost my sense of taste; I've got sores in my mouth; my muscles hurts, but especially the ones in my legs - making it extremely painful to walk; my eyes burn, itch and are swollen; and the pain in my rear has returned.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you're not quitting chemo.

Me: But all my side effects?

AB: Suck it up - you're half way through.

Me: Ok, but I am going to take a long break from writing in my blog.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you're going to keep writing in your blog, because it is extremely insightful and people want - no, people NEED to know how you're doing. Your blog brings joy to millions around the world. Your BFF Kelly thinks she's the smartest woman in the universe, but she's not - you are. People depend on your blog. You will not let them down, Sheri.

Me: FINE! I am going to stop checking my facebook for a period of time.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you are going to continue checking your FB. You've reconnected with a lot of old friends and they are praying for you and love you.

Me: (Sigh) All right! I'm having spicy mexican food for dinner tonight.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but...

Me: I'm standing my ground on this one! Goodbye!

Anyway... I'm not quitting chemo - I'm just frustrated that time isn't going more quickly. This past weekend I asked Tom to get me out of the house. I knew I didn't have the strength or energy to do anything except go for a drive, so that's what we did. It was Sunday and the weather was beautiful. We passed parks and walking trails. I watched people jogging and couples holding hands while walking along. It sent me into a deep self pity. I wanted to be walking outside enjoying the spring temperature. I stared at the people knowing that they weren't even appreciative of doing something as simple as walking outside. I wallowed in my self pity: rolled around in it for hours on end. It took a lot of prayer to snap me out of it. I can now think about the people walking and instead of feeling jealous, I feel happiness that they are able to do something as simple as go for a stroll. It's impossible to be grateful for everything you have and can do; there is way too much we take for granted. If I continue to focus on the positives that have come out of this instead of the negative side effects I'm having, I'll get through this much easier.

Today I'm not going to focus on the fact that I have some major gastric/intestinal issues going on, I'll focus on how bless I am to have indoor plumbing. Mexican food was not a good idea. A good friend would have warned me.

Thanking Pigs

2009-05-02T14:05:00.000-05:00

A few days ago I took a nap (side thought: I used to volunteer at my children's school... basically, doing grunt work that the teacher's aids were above. One of my jobs was to staple together several pieces of construction paper in a manner that it looked like a book. The kids would write their own stories about things they have done. When I would ~~hideout~~ take a break in the teacher's lounge, I'd read through a few of the books and there was this one kid's book that read:

Page 1. I

Page 2. took

Page 3. a

Page 4. nap.

Lazy work about being lazy. A fine American.) Now back to me....

I woke up from my nap feeling pretty crappy. I had shaking chills and a pounding headache. Panic set in. If I had had the energy I would have jumped out of bed and ran through the house waving my arms like the kid from Home Alone screaming "I have swine flu! I have swine flu!" I checked my temperature and slid down the stairs to break the news to my dad that I was dying of swine flu. My dad rummaged around til he found another thermometer and took my temperature again. 101. Yep, swine flu.

I called Tom at work and he said he was on his way home and for me to be ready to walk out the door...we were going to the hospital. I can't just show up at the hospital, I have to call and inform them I'm coming...which Tom so kindly did for me ( I couldn't call them cause I was too busy dying of the swine flu, ya know.) My oncologist office called me after talking to Tom and told me under no circumstance was I to set foot in the ER. She went on to explain that ERs are packed with people right now thinking they have swine flu. Those people are stupid, but I am not because I really did have the swine flu. The worst place I could go with a fever is the hospital - they were so overcrowded and full of germs. It was a guarantee I was going to pick up 27 other animal named diseases just by showing up. I was stunned. It was a few day after my chemo treatment and I couldn't go to the hospital? I wasn't allowed? This was crazy. Here's how it works:

1) Go to hospital every third Friday feeling fine and receive poisonous chemo.

2) Go home and throw up for at least 3 days.

3) Sleep and whine as much as humanly possible.

4) Wake up with fever.

5) Go back to hospital to be admitted for a week.

6) Leave hospital with fun butt stories to blog about.

7) Repeat 6 times.

Now they were going to tell me I wasn't allowed near the hospital? I'm supposed to just take my antibiotics at home and NOT have anyone poke at my butt? That's crazy talk.

This blog is dedicated to every hypochondriac in the greater Kansas City area. Thank you.

Also, it should be noted that I do not now, nor have I ever had the swine flu. But I insist I am still smarter than everyone else who thought they had it, but didn't.

Aak!

2009-04-24T18:00:00.001-05:00

Short post.

Did get my chemo today, so I'm chocked-full of nausea fun.
Today is also my little man's birthday. My Jacob turns 8. How could this have happened? He wasn't supposed to grow up. We celebrated yesterday since I will probably end up throwing up all my internal organs tonight. No one wants to party with a gal who has no internal organs. It's true. Look it up.

Blogging For The Fun Of It

2009-04-22T14:11:00.000-05:00

Nothing new on the cancer front, really. I'm tired all the time. There seems to be something going on with my legs, because they hurt worse than any other part of my body. Going up and down the stairs is oh-so-very painful. The legs and all other body pain I can handle ok now that I got my rear-end fine tuned. The tiredness doesn't bother me as much as it used to either and I finally figured out why: I like sleeping. Sleeping makes time go by quickly and I want time to fly. I want this to be over. I love doing anything that causes me to lose track of time. Anything that doesn't cause me to think about how uncomfortable I am.

My days are pretty quiet now. I've sorta withdrawn from the family the last few weeks or so. At first I thought it was depression, but now I know it's not; it's purely me unable to concentrate on anything. I have a tough time focusing on conversations or television shows. One of the few things I can do is read. I seem to have no trouble losing myself in a book. So, that is how I spend my time - reading and sleeping. Blogging is tough because my fingers ache. They're stiff and sore, so typing can be a bit rough. I'm used to sitting down at my laptop, saying a prayer about what I'm going to write, then quickly typing my thoughts out. When I type slow like this I lose focus a lot.

The topic of this blog is really vampires. I didn't realize I loved vampires so much until I read the Twilight books. Why did I read the Twilight books, you ask? I know, not my normal style of book to read! Blame Allison and my cuz Princess V. Allison had been BEGGING to see the movie Twilight (alllllll the kids in the whole world have seen it except her.) I didn't know anything about the movie (yep, I'm that lame) I only knew it was rated PG-13 and she is 9. I've seen some rough PG-13 movies and I like to preview them before unleashing them on my children. I had no way of seeing the movie, but my wonderful cousin had the book set! And she let me borrow them! Because she loves me! And I can't blame her!

The Twilight books are about a (SPOILER ALERT! STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO RUIN THE BOOKS FOR YOU! yeah, whatever, I know everyone knows this already, but I always wanted to type SPOILER ALERT! it makes me feel important. you know, like I know things you don't) vampire! But he's a good vampire. I'm going to stop here for a moment...I know there are a few out there reading this that are shocked that I read these books. I'm not going to defend my Christianity. I'm not. I'm good with God. They're just books. Regardless, I'm not letting my daughter read them. She's too young. Soooo...I thought I'd check out the movie. I mean, geez, if every kid in the world has seen this movie but her, how bad could it be?

I wasn't thrilled with the ending of the movie. I feared it would give her nightmares, but her friends had already told her everything about said scary ending. Ok, she could watch the movie with me. We settle down to watch our movie - just the two of us and halfway through Tom starts watching it, too. He kept looking over at me and mouthing the words "this is stupid". I would give him the most mature reply I could think of by mouthing back "you are". I blame my steroids for the hostility.

So, the movie is over and all is well -I thought! All was well with Allison anyway. She didn't seem to be scared. Said she LOVED the movie. Now when Allison said she loved the movie, this made Tom unhappy. The movie is about (SPOILER ALERT!) a vampire who falls in love with a young girl who isn't a vampire and he does his darn best not to kill her. That's romance, folks. Tom was upset that his daughter now has the impression that it's ok to date a killer vampire... even if they PROMISE they won't kill you. He said it's too dangerous.

Allll righty. I'm the one that allowed her to watch the movie, so that means I'm the one who has to put the rule in place that Allison is never allowed to date vampires. I get so tired of always being the bad guy.

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 3

2009-04-19T16:25:00.000-05:00

It's Easter and as promised Dr. Graham showed up at the hospital to examine my hiney. I told him how last month I was in the hospital with a high fever and sore rear; how they told me at the time it was a fissure and the fever they weren't sure about - maybe the only thing causing it was my low white blood cell count. Dr. Graham was suspicious, but said little before my exam except that it's really not possible to feel a fissure. He seemed to think the last butt doctor I saw in the hospital was merely guessing.

I was rolled over into butt exam position...drawers dropped...humiliation galore..."is this it?" POKE! And he knew exactly what it was, what was going on with me and how to make it better.

I'm going to stop there for a moment. I figure since I'm being so honest here, I'll go ahead and really humiliate myself. That exam - that horrible, horrible exam. Because there is nothing more embarrassing than having someone poking at you bottom and asking questions, I felt the need to make things as wickedly humiliating as humanly possible for myself...

Now remember all day Saturday and Sunday I was in nasty pain. Wonderful Dr. Edwards had given the thumbs up on as much pain medicine as I could handle. The pain meds were able to halt any diarrhea that may have happened from the antibiotics. In fact, the pain meds tried to make it so I'd never poop again. Ever. EVER! Soooo much discomfort. I told my nurse that I've got a bottom full of poo that absolutely will not come out. "No problem, Sheri!" and off she scampered the get me three different types of laxatives that I took all at once (I'm not kidding!) The sad part? They didn't work.

Sunday night rolls around and I'm full of laxatives that aren't working and I'm due for a butt exam. I didn't see how this was going to go well. I looked down at my distended stomach - said a little prayer and rolled over for my exam. You know how when you blow up an air mattress and the air stays pretty much inside even when you don't have the valve closed? But if you touch the valve a little - just the slightest bit of pressure - the air will come rushing out? Either you understand what I'm trying to say or you don't; whatever the case I'm not going into anymore detail for you.

The exam was rather quick (I'm not sure if that's the norm for him, or if my free flowing air rushed him along.) But he let me know, in no uncertain terms, that the other doctors had been wrong. I did not have a fissure. The lump on the outside of my bottom was an abscess. While he couldn't see the inside, his guess would be that I had another abscess or worse inside my rear. He explained that abscess was shooting infection throughout my body which was causing my fever. He said they were wildly painful and couldn't believe I'd been living with it as long as I had. Dr. Graham was ready to operate on it right then and there.

He explained what the surgery entailed; how the abscess was full of infected puss that needed to be drained. The only thing that would have made that moment any better would have been if I had been eating a bowl of tapioca pudding. Gah! He said once he had the thing drained I would feel soooo much better. While I wanted the thing fixed as quickly as possible, having surgery right then and there wasn't possible. I needed to make sure that Dad, Tom, and the kids were taken care of first. It seemed to me that it would be easier for everyone if I had the surgery the next morning while the kids were in school.

7:30am Monday and I'm ready for the pain to be over. In and out of surgery! I'm back in my room by 10:30am. It was clear, after the surgery, that I was wrongly diagnosed. I never had a fissure. What I had was a large abscess on the outside and an even larger fistula on the inside. I'd never heard of a fistula, so it was explained to me that it was something you do NOT want. My fistula was started from an untreated abscess that was deeeeeeep inside my butt area (you know...the part where poop comes out.) My untreated abscess formed a hole in that super sensitive area of mine. The hole welcomed germs and all kinds of other guests. They weren't happy to just sit there either. Nope. They thought they should see the world! A tunnel was formed. Apparently, it was quite large, too. Abscess drained and fistula closed and stitched up.

I'm a new woman! I may not be able to have my next chemo treatment on time now. Dr. Young gets to examine my bum on Friday and decide if the area is healed enough for me to receive my poison. If I'm not healed, I'll be delayed a week. A part of me wants it delayed, but another part doesn't. I'm sooooo stinkin ready for chemo to be over.

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 2

2009-04-18T17:09:00.000-05:00

Saturday April 11, 2009

8am, in my room and I'm being poked on by numerous nurses. They were focusing so much on my nausea that my bottom pain was being left untreated. My ointments (which were better than nothing) were at home - along with all my pain meds. No problem, right? I was in a hospital! They have all kinds of fun medications there. I told every nurse that came near me that my butt hurt. I needed pain medicine! Every nurse would check my chart and tell me the same thing...E.R. Dr. Doogie didn't write any orders for pain meds. I needed more reasons to dislike Doogie!

It was when the nurse came in with an IV bag full of strong antibiotics that I just about lost it. I knew my body well enough to know that bag was about to kick start some pretty serious diarrhea. The mere thought of what was about to happen to me without my meds had me close to clawing the eyes out of everyone that came near me. Tom was at home - he had left at some point in the middle of the night. I was all alone and feeling helpless.

My white knight came in the form of an awesome doctor by the name of Dr. Edwards. I've not one bad word to say about her (I know! I'm as shocked as you are!) Dr. Edwards is the hospital doctor and was in charge of taking good care of me. She wouldn't allow anyone in my room unless they were wearing a mask, gloves and booties over their shoes. I'm serious! There would be no further germs touching me in that there hospital - not under the watchful eye of (trumpets blasting) Dr. Edwards! (And the crowd goes wild! Woot!)

Dr. Edwards came in my room in an attempt to talk to me about my stomach virus. Can you imagine? I wanted no part of that discussion! I cut her off and told her that I had a fissure in my butt that was on fire. I pleaded with her to help me. She left my room, returned very quickly with a nurse and a shot for my IV. Oh yeah! AHHHH. Sweet relief. We were then able to talk about my tummy issues. I did have a fever but it was pretty low grade - hovering right around 100 degrees. This seemed to concern her, so she let me know she was going to keep me until the next day.

Saturday night was horrible. Even with the shots and the pain pills that Dr. Edwards prescribed, I could not get my butt pain under control. Something felt worse than normal, too. There was a fullness deep inside that was getting worse and I could feel a lump on the outside. I thought I was imagining it. Maybe the pain and all the pain meds were just making me crazy. Of course, feeling lumps everywhere on my body is pretty common now-a-days anyway. But the lump that I felt in my rear seemed so real. Out of desperation I swallowed my humiliation and told my nurse what I felt. I needed her to tell me there was nothing there. I needed her to tell me she felt no lump and it was all in my head. I needed her to look at my butt to see if she saw a lump.

I rolled over, slid off my undies and she saw it right away. She wasn't happy just saying she saw it either. Good heavens, no. Apparently if you see a lump on someone's butt you must also poke it and ask "is this is?" POKE! As she peeled me off the ceiling I was able to mumble yes. When shift change came, the night nurse told the day nurse about the lump she had seen on my rear end. Day shift nurse asked if she could see it too. Yeah, sure. "Is this it?" POKE! A couple hours later Dr. Edwards comes in. "Is this it?" POKE!

Dr. Edwards said she knew of the greatest butt doctor to ever walk the earth and would be contacting him right away. It was Easter Sunday so I figured I wouldn't see him until the following Monday...it gave me ample time to freak out about the butt lump. How wrong I was. I was told Dr. Graham would be in that evening to check (and poke!) my lump. In the mean time, the hospital had called in an infectious disease doctor. He was only supposed to care about my fever and stomach problems.

Sigh...what was one more "is this it?" POKE!

Tomorrow: Dr. Graham and the exam!

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 1

2009-04-17T19:22:00.000-05:00

I realize people aren't perfect. As often as I'm seeing doctors now, you'd know that not every diagnosis is going to be correct. I just didn't think so many doctors would be wrong about the same thing though. No, no, no, no, no, I still have cancer! But I am getting ahead of myself. You have to read my entire hospital story to find out what I'm talking about...

Friday April 10, 2009

2am I hear this: Mommmmmmmmy! I need you! I don't feel good!

It was Jacob and he had managed to throw up all over the bathroom. Unfortunately, he did it the same day my white blood cell count bottomed out. I hated it, but I had to stay away from my sick little man. Tom had to get up and clean the bathroom and take care of my baby boy. Oddly, I never heard any bathroom cleaning going on. I got up to see if we had gotten a self cleaning bathroom at some point - and...NOPE!

I trod downstairs and question Tom about when he might get around to cleaning the vomit that covered the bathroom door, floor, toilet, and wall. Tom said he had asked Jacob if he made it to the bathroom ok and Jacob said he had. Well, yeah, I guess technically he did - but just not into the toilet ok. To his credit, Tom did a fairly good job cleaning (I checked) he just forgot the bathroom door - so I thought it wouldn't hurt if I washed that up quickly myself before I crawled back in bed. I did wash my hands after I was done.

I'd been feeling ok all day. My only issue was the pain in my stupid butt. I had called Dr Young and told her I just couldn't take it anymore. The pain meds weren't working, nor were the creams. I needed something stronger for my fissure! She wrote me a script for morphine. 9pm I was throwing up. I wasn't sure if at first if I was sick because of the morphine or if I had caught Jacob's stomach virus. The worse I felt, the more I was sure it wasn't the pain pills...I was sick. My temp would never get above 100 degrees, but I called my doctor anyway and explained the situation. She told me to go to the ER and get checked - just to be safe.

You know you're a mess when you get to the hospital and are known by every ER nurse on duty. My favorite nurse Jen came out of the ER to get me when she saw my name. I love her. She's the one that was too scared to use my port - therefore was made fun of by another nurse when she put an IV in my arm. This time Jen wasn't going to be so lucky. My other favorite nurse was there that night too...Jason. Jason was a wonder-nurse with ports. He decided he would teach Jen how to prick a port. Jen reads my blog. (special secret message just to Jen: IT'S OK! NO ONE IS PERFECT! I'VE NO IDEA WHAT WENT WRONG, BUT YOU'VE GOT TO STOP APOLOGIZING AND FEELING BAD...SERIOUSLY!)

Any-o-hoo, the IV got started in my port after a couple efforts and in walked my ER doctor. The first thing you'd notice about my doctor was the insane amount of product the boy (yes, boy) used in his hair...the second thing you'd notice is that his name badge didn't say Doogie Howser - but it should have. He took the most thorough medical history of any doctor I've ever had. In. My. Life. But he wanted to make sure you remember he was very smart and a doctor. Example:

Doogie Howser: I'm your very smart and handsomely coiffed doctor today (flashes smile to prove almost all his adult teeth have grown in). I'm going to ask you 500 questions even though the answers are right here in my chart, mmmk?
Me: Sounds like a hoot.
DH: Let's get started, Mrs Strickland. First...when was the last time you h.a.b.m.
Me: Huh?
DH: (sighs) Last time you had. a. bowel. movement.
Me: I threw up a little in my mouth the last time you spoke...does that count?
DH: Do you have a history of h.d.h.b.p.c.t.a.e.w.y.m.o.o.s.w.y.l?
Me: Huh?
DH: (sighs and rolls eyes in disbelief that he would have to spell it out) You know... history of heart disease, high blood pressure, cruelty to animals, eating with your mouth open, or snorting when you laugh?

Somehow we made it through the questions without me walloping him (I was not in a great mood.) He ordered every lab known to man and left. When he returned he looked nervous and no longer sure of himself. He told me my white blood cell count was low - in fact he'd never seen anyone's so low before. Wow, none of his three total previous patients had low white blood cell count. Amazing. He genuinely had no idea how to treat a cancer patient. I made him extremely nervous. So what does a doctor do when he gets nervous? He admits you into the hospital. And that's just what Doogie did!

Because I have to have a special germ free room, I couldn't go right upstairs. My room had to be made ready for me and that was going to take a few hours. I was exhausted and so was Tom. My wonderful nurses were going to put Tom in his own little room in the ER and let him sleep while we waited, but he refused. They were kind enough to switch me from one of the little ER beds to a normal hospital bed so I could sleep comfortably while I waited. See why I loved these nurses?

8am my room was finally ready. I had no idea when they wheeled me upstairs I was going to be in the hospital for an entire week. I missed Easter with my family. It was a truly rough week. Part 2 tomorrow...

I'm Back!

2009-04-16T19:39:00.000-05:00

Last Friday Tom took me to the ER for what turned out to be a slight virus. I just got home today! I had surgery Monday morning and am feeling better now than I have in a month. Right now all I want to do is relax with my family. I promise to blog-o my hospital stay starting tomorrow.

Yayyyyy! I'm home! Thank you, God!

Pain

2009-04-07T04:40:00.000-05:00

It's almost 5am. I am going to take some time away from the blog until I can get out of chemo fog before I post again. The pain is keeping me awake. The pain is everywhere... it starts at my scalp and wraps itself around my neck, down my shoulders, deep into my spine and continues to move down my body. It has worked its way deep into every fiber of my being. I almost start crying because of the pain and self pity, but the tears hurt my eyes. The cure to my cancer is to literally have life sucked out of my body. Right now I wonder why I'm keeping this blog. Do I ever want to look back on this and relive it?

Chemo Sucks

2009-04-04T11:20:00.000-05:00

Seriously! Chemotherapy sucks. I'm now going through the dreaded days after a chemo treatment again. I've read stories of women who never skipped a beat while going through chemo and radiation. Never missed a day of work. Me? If I'm not whining while lying on the couch, I'm whining with my head in a toilet or trashcan, or I'm whining while my butt is on the toilet.

I don't mean to harp on this subject time and again, but this still seems unreal. How did I end up with breast cancer? I wish God would let me in on my purpose for having this horrid disease. Pity party! Table for 1, please!

Anyway, short post tonight. As you can imagine, I'm too sick and tired to make a post. Pray tomorrow will get better. Most of my day today has been spent asleep. If there is anyway I can continue with this routine, you can rest assured, I will.

Good night and here's praying for a better tomorrow.

F.A.Q. Part 2

2009-04-03T02:41:00.000-05:00

These are seriously some of my most emailed questions:

Hi Sheri! You have a beautiful head! I had no idea how perfectly shaped your head was until all your hair fell out. Speaking of your hair falling out...do you just lose just the hair on top of your head?

(this is my most commonly asked question at the moment) The answer is no. I will eventually lose all the hair on my body. While I'm not unhappy about not having to shave my legs for a few months - I find it hard to be that happy because I get in the shower and have no hair to shampoo. You can't imagine how weird it is to get in the shower and lean your head back in the water - you know, like you're going to wash your hair. But there is no hair there. (Habit.) I still use shampoo to wash my scalp though. I wonder about why I do that. Who knows. My next big sad moment will be when my eyebrows and eyelashes fall out.

When you finish chemo, are you going to have radiation?

Nope.

Why not?

I don't need it. As far as the doctors are concerned, every bit of my cancer was removed when I had my mastectomy. I also didn't have any cancer found in my lymph nodes. Radiation is not needed when there isn't a tumor to blast or no concern that some cancer was left behind. The doctors believe they got all mine. Hey! They've never been wrong before. Trust me...nothing to worry about.

How do you stay so strong through this?

Please feel free to ask me the names of the friends and family I call so that I can scream, cry and whine to them often. These are the people that might raise an eyebrow at how strong I am. I do fall apart. It ain't pretty.

I've heard you talk about a port or port-o-cath several times. What is that?

My port or port-o-cath was surgically put in place at the same time I had my mastectomy. It's in my chest close to my right arm pit area. It feels like a little plastic piece under my skin. The nurses poke a needle into it and clamps it down in order to give me my chemo meds which are fed to me through an IV. They didn't have to give me a port, but it makes life easier on everyone if I do have it. This way I don't have to have an IV put into my arm each treatment. Also, the chemo meds are really harsh and could tear up the veins in my arms. I posted an old picture I took of me with my fingers around my port.

What do you do while getting your chemo?

Nothing much. My main job is to sit there while they feed me the 3 chemo meds plus my drug trial medication one at a time, one after another. Last time I slept for awhile and I texted with friends on my phone. Basically I sit in a chair for 4+ hours doing nothing - so I do exactly what I do when I'm at home, but hooked up to an IV machine.

I feel so helpless to help you. How can I help?

You're perfect. You are reaching out to me and showing you love me. You're thinking about me and praying. I couldn't ask for more than that. Unless you want to come over and clean my toilets. I'll warn you now, though, Jacob seems to have one serious aim issue. What the heck is up with that? It's a huge target and he's close to it!

Can I do a fund raiser for you?

That is sweet and thoughtful, but not necessary. I'm very blessed with very good medical insurance. We have a yearly maximum out of pocket and we are able to cover that. I really thought this through and decided to have my cancer detected in January. Hopefully by the end of this year, this will all be a distant memory. I know you want to help, but really all I need are your prayers.

How soon after you get your chemo treatment do you start getting sick?

Pretty quickly. Couple hours. Last time I was wishing I had taken a barf bag with me for the drive home.

How long are you sick after your treatment?

Last time I was sick about 2 weeks and this third week was me whining about my fissure more than anything else. I feel certain y'all didn't get tired of my complaining about my torn anus.

There is a button and link on your blog now that says Mothers With Cancer. What's that all about?

I am so glad you asked me that! That is a super wonderful website called http://www.motherswithcancer.org/ and they have asked me to be a contributing writer for them. I've not written anything yet, because I've been too busy flipping out these last few days about my next upcoming chemo treatment. But I will get it done and hope you pop over there to read some of the other posts by these fantastic women who, like me, are mothers with or who have had cancer.

I love you!

Yeah, that's not really a question. But I love you, too.

P.S. Mad props to my cousin Valerie H. for bringing me the most perfect butt tube to sit on. I could actually sit up today without screaming in pain. She brought me other wonderful stuff, but that tube gave me such great comfort, I thought she deserved a shout out. More mad props go out to my dad who was the one who could figure out how to blow up that idiot thing. Val and I looked pretty stupid. It was tougher to blow up than you think, ok?

Thank You

2009-03-31T22:43:00.000-05:00

I'm often times at a loss for words. How many different ways are there to say thank you? I'm back to say it again. In the mail I received a handful of gift cards from different restaurants in the area. The ones I just received came from a group of people called "The North America Sheri Fan Club". I had no idea there was such a thing. I would so totally join that club. And they know all my favorite places to eat. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I've had plants and scarves and hats and cookies and fresh baked breads and meals and cash and gift cards from so many people. All of it has been appreciated so much. Every get well card that I've received is hanging on ribbons in my hallway. I love seeing them everyday and being reminded of all the people out there that care so much. Those are just the cards that have come in the mail. The emails* I get on a daily basis boggles my mind. At some point I lost the fight in trying to return each email I was sent. I've gotten so far behind and am overwhelmed in trying to get caught up that I've just given up. I still read my emails (I LOVE reading my emails everyday and yes, I've saved them all) everyday and am shocked that I still get so many. I love them all. I love receiving them and reading how so many are praying for me. *new email address = sheristrickland09@att.net

My day consists of checking my emails and my facebook emails, checking for comments on my blog, writing in my blog and reading my fellow cancer warriors' blogs. These women whose blogs I follow everyday are my support group. They leave me comments to ensure I keep up the good fight. I also find strength from reading their blogs. I pour my coffee in the morning, sit down and get caught up on everyone's cancer journey. My plan is always to go back at some point during the day and leave comments on their posts. I don't. I've no real excuse. There are days I finish reading and I've written my blog and I'm tired of cancer. Just don't want to deal with anymore cancer. Maybe that's why I've shut down on email responses too.

Suddenly my whole life has become cancer. Not just my life, but my family's life. I know Allison and Jacob get asked time and again how their mom is doing. Their teachers ask; parents of their friends ask; their friends ask! Even my children can't escape it. Besides people asking me how I'm doing, the most commonly asked question is how are the kids dealing with this. If they are upset, they are hiding it well. They seem fine. Both just brought home their report cards and both are still straight A students. They aren't acting out at school. My prayers for my children to deal with this in stride have been answered so far.

Today it was important for me that I tell everyone thank you, because I realized how crappy I've been at letting everyone know how much I appreciate them. I appreciate the gifts, kind words and mostly the prayers. Yesterday a fellow cancer fighter whose blog I loved - I found out her journey came to an end. I was devastated for many reasons. Selfishly a person fighting cancer never wants to hear about someone dying from cancer. But mostly I was sad that I never told her how much I loved her writing. She was one of those whose blog I followed, but never commented on. My heart and prayers go out to her husband and young son. She was a delight, and her death doesn't make sense to me. I'll miss her words greatly.

Does seem silly that I hadn't learned by now how short and unexpected life can be. I vow to make sure all the people I love, respect and hold dear in my life know I love, respect and hold them dear. I say thank you to Manda for opening my eyes. I loved you when you were alive...you just didn't know it.

I'll Bring the Whine

2009-03-30T21:40:00.001-05:00

I want one day without pain. One day that I don't wake up and and my first thought is that I have cancer. There is a never ending list of things that need to be done and I am just now feeling like I'm physically able to do them. You know how depressing it is to know that in just a few days I've got to have chemo pumped into my body again?

It's the pain that is wearing me out right now. Honestly, if it weren't for the stomach and rear end pain, I'd be fine. My bottom hurts pretty much all the time now due to my lovely fissure and screwed up digestive system. I told Dr. Young I was willing to finish chemo before scampering off to get my fissure fixed. I'm really questioning that now. In a matter of a few days my diarrhea is going to get much, much worse. I know with that will come the peel-me-off-the-ceiling fissure pain.

On a brighter note, my energy level is up somewhat. Or it is when I'm not downing so dang many pain pills. Trust me, I know what you are thinking - I'm worried about becoming addicted to the silly things, too! If anyone has any advice to help me get through the pain without the use of percocet and oxymorphone, I am more than willing to listen. I can't sit or lie down in any comfortable fashion anymore. Hours sitting in a hot bath and the ointment just ain't cutting it anymore.

Anywho! With my new found somewhat energy I did get out of the house on Sunday. We went out to eat and then I did a very slow stroll through the mall. I wanted to get out of the house, but I was scared. This was going to be my first outing without hair. I wanted to wear one of my wigs, but I will confess to not liking them very much. I find them hot and itchy. As my scalp gets more used to not having hair, I might be better able to tolerate the wigs. Right now my favorite thing is scarves. They are lightweight, soft, and pretty (wow, did anyone else notice I just described myself?)

So, I went out to eat wearing a scarf on my bald head and my fear came true. I did get stared at. It was a little shocking to look around and see people quickly looking down; to see people staring at me out of the corner of my eye; to see a husband and wife looking over at me and whispering. It's very clear that I have cancer. I look like a cancer girl now. I was uncomfortable (until my big ol plate of ribs came, then I really didn't care about all those people anymore.) I did try to get inside the mind of the people I caught looking. One woman in particular seemed unable to stop looking at me. I finally put myself in her place and saw her sitting there with two young children just as I was. She was probably about the same age as me and perhaps she was staring at a woman that could have easily been her.

I told this to a friend and they said everyone was staring because of my unbelievable beauty. I like that idea better.

Hair

2009-03-28T01:01:00.001-05:00

I thought I was prepared. The thing most talked about since I found out I had cancer was the thing that happened today. I lost my hair. All of it. It had been coming out more and more and I had a few bald spots here and there, but today was almost like a horror movie for me. My scalp and my hair were hurting worse than normal. Yes! My hair actually hurt! Several days ago Tom and I actually had this conversation:

Me: This is driving me crazy! I can feel my hair (hair in my hands and I'm pulling on it lightly)

Tom: I can see you feeling your hair.

Me: NO! I mean my hair can feel!

Tom: (looking at me like I'm insane) Right...you are feeling your hair.

Me: My. Hair. Has. Feeling.

Tom: I have no idea what you are trying to say.

Me: Forget it.

Tom: I'll try. Believe me. I'll try.

Me: My hair hurts.

Tom: (Deeeeep long sighhhhhh)

Today I got in the shower and when I pulled my hands out from lathering my hair, it looked like most of my hair was attached to my hands. It didn't seem real. I kept rinsing my hands and putting them back in my hair and bringing them back out only to see more and more hair coming out. I rinsed my hair then reached up to lightly touch my head. It felt like all my hair was still there. Ok, maybe that was it, I thought. Maybe that's all that is going to come out today. I thought I'd test to see how fragile my hair situation was and pulled together small bunch of hair - about 20 or 30 strands. I gently tugged on the little ponytail of hair and the whole dang thing came free from my scalp.

I started crying. This was it. This was the next step in the process. I couldn't believe how easily my hair was falling out. The slightest touch would detach the hair from my head. I stayed in the shower as long as I could - crying and mourning the loss of my hair. I've always loved my hair. There was not a hairstyle I couldn't do with my hair. Even at it's longest I could curl it and it would hold curl. It was thick and dark and easy to take care of. I'm told when you finish chemo your hair will come back in differently than what you've had before. They say if you had straight hair, your new hair will come back in curly and perhaps a different color. I don't don't want curly or a different color. I want what I had.

Another reason I wasn't ready to lose my hair was simply because it will now become harder to hide the fact that I am a cancer patient when I go out in public. Unless I'm looking especially good that day, I don't want people staring at me. Plus, every time I look in the mirror I'll see a sick woman looking back.

Anyway...I got out of the shower and left behind a mound of hair. I got dressed then slowly started brushing my hair. I could see big bald spots forming and my hair was looking extremely thin in some places. I went downstairs in tears and told Tom I needed to get my head shaved. Thankfully I didn't cry the entire time I was getting my hair buzzed off. It was traumatic and terrible.

I wasn't sure how the kids would react, so I thought I'd make it as easy on them as possible. I had on a wig when they walked in the door. Jacob didn't pay much mind to it, but Allison was curious as to why I was wearing the wig. I bent my head down and told her to pull the wig off. She very carefully grabbed the wig and pulled it off. The look of sadness in her eyes almost got me crying again. I sat there a long time waiting for Jacob to notice. Finally I had to tell him to look at me. I believe his exact remark was "Oh wow, does this mean you started chemo today?" I laughed. I love that his 7 year old mind still isn't able to process exactly what is going on with me.

I'll now continue on my journey wearing wigs, scarves and silly hats. God has my hand.

The (Rear) End

2009-03-27T01:16:00.000-05:00

Part 4

You know what the problem with cancer is? The problem for me anyway... I never felt sick. One day I think I'm fine - I have no pain, fatigue, blurry vision, loss of appetite, ingrown toenails - nothing! Then some doctor comes along and says the word cancer - your whole life changes forever. Because of two cancerous tumors in my left breast, I will live the rest of my life being called a breast cancer survivor. No finer group of women are there in the world than the breast cancer survivors I've met. But I don't want to join your group. Everyday I want to figure out how to mail back my membership card and say "forget this mess!"

I'm not whining, really, I'm angry. Though I smile knowing all the women whose lives I've touched just by telling my story so far. There are women out there getting mammograms because of me. How cool is that? The problem is, I'm just getting them to the doctor - if they have cancer the nightmare begins for them. All I can do is send people to the doctor to find out if they already have this horrid disease or not. I'd much rather someone call me up to tell me they read my story and got their "breast cancer prevention shield".

I hate this disease. I do. I hate it. I hate that every woman on the planet has to worry about this. No one is safe. You can't have this disease 'just a little bit'. Cancer has 4 stages. My cancer is only a stage 2 and I've lost both my breasts and I've got to go through chemotherapy. Imagine what it must be like for the stage 3 and 4 women. My point: go get a mammogram.

Anyway! When last we left off, it was Friday night at the emergency room. My ER doctor (Sue as she wanted to be called) tells me she's going to check everything possible to figure out what is causing my fever. As I've been in the ER, my temp has steadily climbed. I was shivering, I was so cold, but my nurse Jason wouldn't let me have any blankets, because he said my shivering was from my high fever. I was miserable, but hopeful of going home that night. Each test they ran kept coming back negative. Finally Sue came in and announced they were going to admit me to the hospital. Crap!

They couldn't figure out what was causing the fever, which continued to climb and my blood pressure continued to drop. I'm going by memory here, but I believe when they were wheeling me upstairs to my room my temp was 102.5 and blood pressure was something like 85/50.

When they got me to the patient rooms, they realized there just wasn't any room for me. I got stuck in the hallway for what seemed forever before they finally found a room for me. My new room was lovely, but they told me not to get too comfortable - I was supposed to be in an isolation room - there just were none available at that moment. They said they were getting one ready and would move me as soon as they possibly could. Meanwhile I continued to feel worse. They were able to slowly get my blood pressure to go back up, but it was taking awhile. Due to my low blood pressure they were unable to give me anything for pain. They were also struggling to get my fever down. It would go down for a moment, but then pop right back up again.

It was after midnight and Tom and the kids were still with me in my little temporary room. Tom wanted to stay until I got settled in my new room, but I finally talked him into taking the kids home. I said I would call in the morning to let him know my new room number. Right after they left 3 nurses came in and said an isolation room was ready, but they were going to move me to the ICU first. I stayed in the ICU all that night and until mid morning when my fever finally started dropping and staying down. My blood pressure had gone back up to it's normal 115/80, so I got to finally move into my isolation room. It was an exhausting night.

I really thought they were going to release me that day. They were sending up a doctor who specialized in butt problems to confirm my fissure diagnoses. My fever was gone and blood pressure was steady. If it weren't for the wicked pain in my rear, I would have felt great. And then the diarrhea hit. With each bout of diarrhea it felt like fire was ripping through me. I was begging for pain meds, but the butt doctor said no. He gave me a bottle of numbing ointment and told me he could numb me up or I could do it myself. I painfully did it myself. It took about 5 minutes and I felt amazingly better! Which meant time for him to give me a thoroughly good exam. But! by doing so he found my nasty fissure.

I asked him what I should do about it, because there wasn't much I could do to control my diarrhea. I explained about the chemo destroying my digestive system. Surgery, he said, I needed surgery to have it repaired. This just keeps getting better. He did know of a cream though that would help until I could get the needed surgery, but it would take a day or two to get it mixed up special for me. The cream ended up working famously! Dr Young said I could have the surgery, but I would have to pause chemo while I did that. No thanks! I want to get chemo finished!

Ok, so butt problem taken care of, all I needed was to get out of the hospital. I had already spent one night there and was ready to go. They had told me that they thought the fever was brought on only because of my white blood cell count dropping so low. It didn't appear I had any infection anywhere. When the doctor came to visit me Saturday, I expected him to tell me I was going home. Nope. He wanted to keep me another day. Sunday though, he kept his word and released me around 4pm that afternoon.

I was never so grateful to be home.

Chills!

2009-03-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

Part 3

Friday

March 20, 2009

I was home from the hospital, but unable to get out of bed. I was either extremely hot or cold and unable to stay awake for longer than half an hour at a time. The pain in my rear wasn't getting any better either. Tom was home, thankfully, so whenever I needed anything I would call his cell phone and he would run upstairs with my ginger ale or medication. He kept trying to get me to eat something, but I absolutely couldn't. I figured it was just the pain that was making me feel so sick.

After the third time or so of shaking chills, I decide to take my temperature. When you are receiving chemo they tell you time and again to check for a fever. Chemo meds kill your white blood cells which fight off infection. Without those white blood cells your body has a tough time increasing your body temperature - so when you do get a fever it means something bad could be going on. I believe my doctor told me that a regular person's 100.5 temp is equal to 103 in a cancer patient. With that being said, I was instructed to call the doctor's office anytime my temp hit 100.5 and stayed there for an hour OR call instantly should it get as high as 101.

I took my temperature and it was 100.5. I went downstairs and show Tom the thermometer. He stares speechless at it then goes shuffling around in a cabinet until he finds another thermometer and has me take my temp again. The second reading came back as 100.9. Tom put that thermometer back and decides he liked the first one better. Since I have to wait an hour before taking my temp again, I decide to go back to bed. When I woke up my temperature was 101.2. Time to call the doctor.

I talked to my doctor's partner who gave me an option of going to the emergency room or she could just call in a prescription for an antibiotic. Remember now, I'm nervous girl...I'm scared of making the wrong decision and it affecting the outcome of my life. My LIFE is what I'm dealing with here. I tell the doctor I want to go to the hospital and play it safe - plus, I really did feel awful. And my butt hurt. Unfortunately, Tom disagreed with my decision immensely. I was too tired to fight about it, and just had the doctor call in the prescription while I went back to sleep.

Tom left to go pick up the antibiotic. While he was gone the doctor found my chart and called back. Seems when I left the hospital the day before, they did blood work on me and my white blood cell count was extremely low. Since my white blood cell count was so low and my temp was continuing to rise, she told me I had to go to the ER.

Frustration was written all over Tom's face. I had just been released from the hospital the day before and now here I was about to get admitted again less than 24 hours later. He was tired and this time we didn't have family in town to help out with our children. I let him choose which St Luke's we should go to. He likes the one in Overland Park which is much smaller and much closer to our house, so that is where we went. This time, though, their emergency room was busy and I was sure I was going to have to wait forever to be seen. They checked me in pretty quickly; put a mask over my face; sent me to the waiting room and made me wait almost 5 minutes. I got called back ahead of everyone else in the joint.

Once back in my little patient room I met Jason - another amazingly great nurse at St Luke's Hospital. He was funny, nice, understanding and knew how to use a chemo port. I told Jason about the last time I was in that ER and how my nurse didn't know how to use my port. I said she ended up being made fun of by another nurse. Shortly after telling him this story, the nurse from that night came in my room! She said she saw my name and came running in to tell me hello and share her good news. Last time I was there I had told her about the miracle of my cancer being caught so early. I could tell it kind of freaked her out, because she's the same age as me. She said she had to come in my room when she saw I was back to let me know she went right out and got a mammogram. It came back clear. Praise God!

God has given me a most horrible disease, but by doing so He's led me to meet some of the most wonderful people. Another example would be the doctor who treated me in the ER that night. Her name was Sue (I'm really trying to remember names now.) Sue and I bonded instantly over our displeasure of having to live in a city without a Jack in the Box restaurant. Of course, after that talk, Sue decided she wanted to see what was causing so much pain in my bottom. I'll just say that was an unpleasant exam and leave it at that. It was too painful for me for her to do a full exam, but her best guess was a fissure. And... they were going to have to admit me to the hospital... Sigh.

Part 4 tomorrow...

Well.... Poop!

2009-03-23T21:39:00.000-05:00

My butt, pt 2 (giggling)
Monday
March 16, 2009 4:30pm

Off I went to the hospital to get the nausea and vomiting and diarrhea taken care of. Living with that kind of sickness was out of the question. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it, I mean. I could, I suppose - once there was a time people didn't have a choice. Dr Young assured me I didn't have to be sick. Funny the whole ride to the hospital I wondered how much of that sickness was my own fault for choosing the more aggressive treatment. There were many reasons Tom was displeased about having me admitted into the hospital, and I decided it was my own best interest not to ask what they were specifically.

Even though we were heading into downtown and away from the heaviest traffic, we were still driving into the big city at rush hour. I was so afraid I wasn't going to be able to make it to the hospital without having to stop somewhere along the way. Somehow, someway, we made it to the hospital in one piece. What we didn't know, though, was where we were supposed to check in. We knew "cancer center" "patient short stay" "5th floor". This hospital is huge! It's three massive buildings attached together with sky walks. We've no clue. When you don't know where to go... you guess. First building, 5th floor? Wrong. Ok, so we'll try another building and its 5th floor. And we were going to do just that...as soon as we found the sky walks. We had literally walked in circles by the time we found the sky walks.

Looking down those sky walks was like looking into a great abyss. I couldn't make it. I really couldn't! Tom found a hallway waiting area and told me to have a seat while he ran off and grabbed a wheelchair. My legs were like rubber bands; my head was foggy and I thought I could pass out soon; I had nausea; my diarrhea had returned - but I looked down at those waiting room chairs and decided, maybe I'm not feeling that bad after all - I'd stand. Tom was relatively quick with the chair and we had no problem finding the cancer center after that.

They were expecting me. Zipped me right into one of the ugliest hospital rooms in the world. Two nurses were working on me at once. One was asking questions while the other was getting ready to shove some giant needles into my port-o-cath. I tell them I need to go to the bathroom so could they please hurry this along? They were very understanding - in fact one nurse was so darn sweet she came into the bathroom with me to place some toilet inserts in my potty. Two of them. I was honestly confused. I had to do one of those "pssstt.. um, uh, yeah, your insert is blocking where my poop is supposed to land."

"No, Sheri. THAT is where your poop is supposed to land"

"Nuh uh." I think was my clever response.

Nurse leaves and I'm left on my own. I knew what they wanted and why, but I was not going to do it. I calmly walk over to the toilet, reached down and removed their nifty little inserts, did my business, replaced the inserts, washed my hands, and crawled back into my hospital bed.

After I was back in bed one nurse acted like it was Christmas morning and went galloping into the restroom to see what magical things had been left for her. I almost felt bad for ruining her Poopfest. "You couldn't go?" She asked me.

"No, I did." I told her " I just couldn't go in your bucket. I'm not going to poop in your bucket." Nurse tried to cut me off so she could explain why this was so important and I cut her off. "Listen" I explained "that is a shallow plastic bucket thing and what I have can only be described as explosive." I left her speechless.

It was decided that now wasn't the best time to force this issue on me. One nurse was still trying to get all tubes, hoses, needles, monitors and whatnot attached when there was a knock on the door. My nurse told them to go away, because she was busy. A little voice called out that it was Dr Young. My nurse actually told her to go away and come back later when I wasn't so busy. And she did. I was most impressed that Dr Young showed up so quickly after I arrived at the hospital. She has completely won my approval again.

When Dr Young returned we talked for a long time about all the different medications that were out there and how she will do whatever I need her to do to make this as pain-free as possible. I told her I was exhausted and needed the vomiting and nausea to stop so I could sleep. With that said, Dr Young called in the nurse who pumped my IV line full of three different medications. I don't remember much else until later that night when they brought in my dinner.

My dinner tray consisted of roast hen, stuffing, broccoli, salad, and pie. I looked up at the nurse...seriously? Were they trying to kill me? She said she ordered me the wrong type of meal. Duh. The nurse let Tom have that tray of food while I got to enjoy my lukewarm broth and jello. Tom announced it was the best hospital food he'd ever eaten. That actually made me happy. Anyone who knows Tom, knows he loves food, so I knew he wasn't completely miserable.

As the night wore on, I got sicker. I felt horrible guilt about leaving Abby and Lola to babysit my children. I called her and apologized, but she assured me the children were all getting along famously and was happy to be there to help out. What else could she say, really? Admit that this did suck for her and tell me to get my butt home? I told Tom to go on home. He said no, he wanted to stay and make sure I was ok. They brought in a cot for him, but he ended up sleeping in a chair while I was up sick most of the night.

My stomach was cramping so much that the pain was almost unbearable at times. They kept offering me pain meds, but I told them to stop worrying so much about my pain and deal with what brought me there - the diarrhea and nausea. Besides, I told them, if they gave me anything for pain, it was only going to make me that much more nauseous. Nurse change happened and I met my favorite nurse at that hospital. Kim.

Kim walked into my room that night and announced that I was in extreme pain. She looked at my chart and told me Dr Young had approved pain meds whenever I needed them. I knew that, I told her, but... Kim didn't let me finish. She left only to return with a shot of morphine, which I got before I could protest. I had suffered all day needlessly. That shot did multiple things: eased my pain, stopped the diarrhea and calmed my nausea. Thank you, God. And thank you, Kim for being a nurse for 18 years and knowing more than me about what I needed.

Each day in the hospital was spent tweaking different anti-nausea medicines so we could find the perfect combination to use after my next chemotherapy treatment. It wasn't an easy process and anytime it got too rough for me, I went back to my old friend Mr. Morphine. On Thursday, Dr. Young did tell me she was pretty pleased with the drug cocktail we'd finally put together for the nausea, but sadly, there was nothing she could do for the diarrhea. It appeared the chemo had totally destroyed my digestive system. It happens, she said, and sometimes it does correct its self after you finish chemo. Lovely. Simply lovely.

On Thursday, I was so happy to be going home from the hospital I failed to mention to Dr Young that I had suddenly developed a wicked pain in my butt with my diarrhea. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to be with my children. That pain would go away, I was sure. Once home, though, things only got worse. I was away from my precious morphine shots and all it took was that first trip to the restroom for things to come crashing down again. It was like someone had taken a butcher's knife and sliced it into my rear end then sadistically started pouring jalapeno juice into the wound. The pain hit me so hard it caused me to throw up.

I was able to get off the toilet, barely, and fill my bathtub up with hot water. The pain was insane. I would only get out of the tub long enough to go to the restroom before practically leaping back in to soak. No clue how long I was in there, but finally Tom came in to check on me. I told him what was going on and he left to go get me hemorrhoid cream. Finally relief was on the way. If there is anyone out there who has ever had a fissure, you know how bad things are about to get, right? Don't put hemorrhoid cream into an open wound. You've just added lemon juice and salt to your jalapeno juice.

Screams could be heard around the world!

Part 3 tomorrow

What Were We Talking About Last?

2009-03-22T17:59:00.000-05:00

Where were we?

Let's see:

Friday: Chemo

Saturday: Head in toilet; sister-in-law in town with my nieces and her mother. Hi, Abby, Ashley, Christa, and Lola!

Sunday: Head in toilet; guests still here, but they're spending their vacation by cleaning my house. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Monday: Head deeper in toilet; admitted to hospital; guests at my house babysitting my kids.

Tuesday: Still in hospital; guests still babysitting.

Wednesday: Still in hospital; guests heading home. Bye, Abby, Ashley, Christa, and Lola! I love you! When you get home, don't forget to tell my brother hello and that I love him.

Thursday: Home from hospital, but have sore throat. Suddenly have developed a wicked pain in my butt (more on this later).

Friday: In bed all day sleeping, sick or in pain. Started running a fever so had to call oncologist. Back in hospital.

Saturday: In hospital

Sunday: HOME!

I'm home. You can't know how happy I am to be home. This level of happiness is matched only by the amount of pain I'm feeling in my bottom right now. This past week's hospital stays and pains and sickness will be reported, but first I give you the story of my butt and the things that have happened to it since I last posted.

(This is for you, Jeneil)...

It's Monday and I have eaten something I shouldn't have eaten (food) and I'm running to the bathroom about every 15 or so minutes. Tom was at work and Abby had taken the 4 kids out for ice cream and toys. It was just Lola and me in the house. The bathroom on my first floor where Lola and I were watching TV is near the living room, so I was opting to run upstairs every time I needed to go. If I just had diarrhea I would have used the downstairs bath, but since I was never sure if I was going to vomit - up I would go to my master bathroom. (I can't handle listening to anyone throw up, therefore I wasn't going to subject Lola to that either.)

Each jog upstairs had me feeling weaker and wobblier, so I was trying to make each trip count by staying as long as I could. Spike, my dog, followed me each trip. It is Spike's job in this house to keep people from breaking in and killing me. He is 7 pounds of pure Maltese terror. Spike was tired, too, from the up and down bathroom trips so while I was going to the restroom, he would nap. Spike hates the tile floors in the bathrooms, but still refuses to let me out of his sight. This day he found a work around for his tile issue.

One of my last trips up, I'm there sitting on the potty for an extended amount of time. By the time I go to stand it almost cost me my life. I was so weak and so exhausted, I hadn't realized that Spike had made his bed in my pajama bottoms between my feet. When I stood up I lost my balance. I almost fell face first onto the hard tile floor. I'm not sure how I kept myself from falling, I just remember hopping around and accidentally kicking the dog halfway across the bathroom. A child shouldn't have to tell people their mom died because she didn't notice the family dog nested in her pants while she sat on the toilet for half an hour.

It was after that trip to the restroom, I called my oncologist - begging for help. They said the best way they could help me was to go to the hospital - they'd have a room waiting for me. By Thursday what they finally managed to do was stop the vomiting, but not the diarrhea, which by the way, had caused my colon to finally surrender. A tiny little thing called a fissure had formed. That fissure is the thing that nightmares are made of.

Part 2 tomorrow.

(Yes, there was going to be so much more to this, but I am unable to think clearly enough to write. The fissure pain is truly severe and the pain meds I'm taking for it are powerful. I've great stories to tell, I'm just unable to get them written tonight. But I will! I promise!)

Fever

2009-03-20T17:16:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to update my little blog here, but it's always one thing after another. Today I just don't feel well. I am actually falling asleep while typing! Usually I don't find myself that boring, but tonight I have a fever of 101.2 and am just going to call it a night.

I was just told to go to the ER and get admitted.

I think we know the way.......

Home...

2009-03-19T14:45:00.001-05:00

Thursday afternoon and I'm finally home from the hospital. I can tell chemo is just gonna be a hoot! I'm going to spend some time with my children, catch up on phone calls then take a nap. After I do all that, I plan to update my little blog on my thrilling roller coaster ride of a hospital stay (wasn't really that exciting, but if people think it might have been they'll return.)

Geez, it's good to be home!

Thanks for all the love, support and especially for keeping me in your prayers (and you're in mine.) I truly do have the best family, friends and blog followers in all the world.

Hospital...

2009-03-16T13:59:00.000-05:00

Today is as bad as I've been. I'm leaving my house now to get admitted into the hospital to get this under control.

No worries.

I'll be back blogging soon.

F.A.Q. of My Chemo

2009-03-16T04:48:00.000-05:00

It is officially the middle of the night. I wasn't going to blog, but I'm up and sick. Remember as you read this that I am so very tired, very sick, and sick and sick and sick and sick...

Dear Sheri,

Why are you receiving chemotherapy when you've had your breasts whacked off? Didn't they get all the cancer when they removed your breasts?

That's a very good question! They believe they did, yes. The chemo is given as an insurance policy. Cancer can sometimes escape from it's captive area through your blood and the doctors don't know about it. Yes, it's true, doctors do not know everything.

I see. So what does chemo do exactly?

Well, chemotherapy medicine targets all fast splitting cells in your body. Cancer cells love to divide rapidly! This is fun for them. Which still shocks me that they would end up in my body. Anyone who knows me knows there is nothing quick about me or my body. My motto has always been to embrace your inner lazy. But whatever! Too late for me to hate the cancer anymore than I already do.

Why does chemo make your hair fall out?

Hair grows by rapidly splitting cells. Chemo med doesn't know the difference between good cells and bad, so it goes and gets em all.

How often do you receive your treatments?

I will get a total of 6 treatments spaced 3 weeks apart. They need time between each treatment for your body to heal and feel better before pumping it it back full of poison. So, basically, by the time I get to feeling better from this last treatment, I'll be ready for my next one. FUN!

The Day After

2009-03-14T22:59:00.000-05:00

In all fairness, they did try to warn me. The nurses, I mean. Oh, sure, these women were offering up all their advice and knowledge to me about chemo, but how much did they really know? They've worked in the chemo ward for 15 - 20 years. Yeah, so? Have they ever had the poison pumped into THEIR bodies? Heck, no.

Why the bitterness, you might ask? I'll tell you why! Because I was told this isn't like the olden age of chemo! You don't receive your treatment then spend the next few months sick as a dog. There are far too many types of anti-nausea medications out there. If the four we give you this week don't help, by golly, we have a bazillion others to choose from. We'll tweak until we get it right. That's all well and good, ladies, my dear nurse friends who have never gone through this, but - What. About. Me. Right. Now?

It's Saturday! I'm suffering! All day long. Ok, I can't get comfortable. My whole body feels like it's been chewed up by a wood chipper, spit out, glued back together, run over by a steam roller, then bounced on like a trampoline - which is all perfectly normal. They're sorry I'm aching and tired, but we'll control your urge to hurl. Well, guess what? YOU DIDN'T. It was 4 or 5am that I woke up sicker than I've felt in possibly my whole life.

It was before Christmas I was told it was nothing to worry about. Now three months later I'm sitting on the potty with a trash can between my legs - thinking about all the doctors and nurses who down played this all the way. Would I have really wanted to know in December - almost exactly three months ago - I would be sitting sitting like this? Would I have wanted to know that I would end up typing on a public blog about a most humiliating position?

It takes a very close friend to discuss your diarrhea with, but I sit here tonight telling the world that I not only had diarrhea happening to me, but I was projectile shooting out the other end at the same time. All this with four different types of anti-nausea medicines engulfing my body. My brain is unable to wrap itself around how bad off I'd be if I had not been on any medication at all.

Knowing I had cancer in December? Not knowing how I would have felt to find out that early? Which meds might have worked? Right this minute? I don't know the answers - and it doesn't matter anyway. The best advice I've been given so far is 2 things: first is to start a countdown to my last chemo treatment (it's somewhere down on the bottom of the page here) and the second is along the same line - don't look at it as day by day, but as 5 minute by 5 minute.

Chemotherapy

2009-03-13T22:44:00.000-05:00

Yeah, Chemotherapy stinks. I've posted pictures of me starting out all happy in the chemo room and ending my day stuck in my bathroom.

This has been one of the longest days of my life. So many things happened and I will tell you about them - but not tonight. I'm going to spend the rest of the night with my head in the toilet.

Before I go, I will say, once again, that all the emails I got today were mind blowing. No, I've not responded back, but I've read them all. If y'all were trying to make me feel like I'm the most blessed and loved person on the planet - job well done. I've tried to respond back to all my facebook comments. Email responses will happen, but not as quickly as I would like.

Tomorrow my beautiful sister-in-law and my equally beautiful and very wonderful nieces will be here from Texas. I will be rejoicing in my time with them, but fear not, I've not forgotten the rest of y'all. I do not take for granted one single email, card, phone call or prayer. God has given me the best family and friends. I keep y'all in my thoughts and in my prayers always. I love you!

Sending love from my chemo nightmare,

Sheri

Note: the photos got mixed up, obviously, and I'm too sick and tired to figure out how to fix the problem. It's possible I do not know what I'm doing here.

Tests and More Tests Part 2

2009-03-12T18:48:00.000-05:00

After my chat with Dr Young, I got to get a tour of the chemotherapy room. The picture I've put here is what a really nice chemo room looks like. The one I toured wasn't quite so nice, but the idea is the same. A group of recliners all lined up in a row with little curtains to separate you from your cancer neighbor. Everyone gets their own pole to hang their chemo drip on and also everyone gets ... uh ... well, that's about it. A chair, a pole and a curtain. What more could you need?

After my tour a nurse went through all my medications and wrote down when I needed to take what pill and how much. 5 scripts later and a post-it note of very confusing instructions, I'm pushed out the door and down the hall to the heart center. Almost home free.

Almost no waiting in there either. I'm called back by the super model of EKG givers. "Hey, Sheri, I'm Jeremy" (Funny I can't remember the names of anyone else that day, but I remember his. Not sure what that's all about.) "I'm going to give you your EKG today." We go into our little patient room and I hop up on the table. Jeremy asks that I get down because he's forgotten to put the paper protector down first. Then he hands me my little hospital gown and tells me I only need to undress from the waist up. He leaves the room.

I change and Super Model Jeremy comes back in and tells me to hop up on the table. Is this a test? I look at him. "Oh, I forgot to put paper on the table. I'll be right back. Ok?" I think I mumbled something about him being dreamy and he papers my table...just for me...only dropping the paper once.

On the table and Jeremy is trying to keep my little gown closed where my breasts used to be while he puts my little EKG probes all over me. I finally tell him I have no modesty problems since there is nothing there. Ok, to let the gown be open. It was at this time that Jeremy felt obligated to comment on my chest. "Yeah, uh, looks like your scars have really healed up nicely." Oh, Jeremy, you charmer.

Test took all of about 5 minutes and I'm dressed and out the door. Jeremy says they are done with me and wished me good luck and stuff. Yayyyy! Testing is DONE! I was hungry and ready to get home. My cousin Rachel was at the house to greet the children when they got off the bus, so the kiddos were fine, but I was ready to get home. (Thank you, Rachel!)

At some point after getting home, my cell phone rang but I didn't hear it. I pick up my message and it's the heart center - they had left me an urgent message saying they need me to call them back NOW! Oh crap. Now what? I call and am sent around the center twice before I finally get back on the phone with my ol pal Jeremy. He remembered me. I can't say I'm surprised - we really bonded with that scar conversation. I explained to him that I had been left a message by some woman and there was a problem. Did he know what was going on? No, no he did not, but he'd check. Time. Stood. Still.

Jeremy returns to the phone with my chart in hand and says that everything looks dandy to him. He has no idea why they called. I patiently ask him to please find out what is going on. OHHH! Now he sees it. He forgot to give me my heart echo test. Oopsy. He said they were closing, but maybe I could get in to the other St Luke's heart center. Give em a call, k? Cause you can't get chemo til you get that test. Ok, and good luck and stuff.

The other heart center was able to squeeze (hee!) me in the next day at 5:00 that evening.

Thank, God.

My chemotherapy begins tomorrow promptly at 9:30am. You do not want to be in this house with me tonight. The word "stress" doesn't begin to describe what I'm feeling tonight. No one is safe. Every so often a slice of cheesecake is passed my way and I hear someone running quickly away. I've taken two of my "happy" pills and am thinking that wasn't enough. Maybe I'll sew the head back on Tigger, rename him Jeremy and release some stress that way.

Peace out.

Tests and More Tests

2009-03-11T21:50:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had my oncologist appointment plus a series of tests, that as far as tests go - seemed pretty punk. Here's the whole day in a nutshell:

1pm: chest x-ray

1:30: internal organ ultrasound (probably not the correct name for this)

2pm: appointment with Dr Young

2:30: grand tour of chemotherapy room

3:00: EKG

3:30: chest echo thingy (probably not the correct name for this)

Everything happened right on time! Seriously. I wasn't only NOT late for each appointment, but I was early. What a great hospital.

Or so I thought. (You'll find out what I mean with tomorrow's story.)

And, of course, those days of hearing "Everything on your tests look great, Sheri." are soo over! I miss those days.

No problems with the x-ray. Whew!

Then that stupid sonogram organ test thing happened. It's just like a normal sonogram, except they inspect each and every organ to see if there are any pesky tumors growing on them. For whatever reason, they do not allow you to eat or drink anything 8 hours prior to this test. My test was scheduled for 1:30pm. Do the math. I tried to sleep as late as I could so I wouldn't have to think about coffee or breakfast. Then I had to not knock the coffee out of Tom's hand while we drove to the hospital that morning. (At some point Tom did have the sense to ask me if his drinking coffee right there in front of me was bothering me...perceptive guy, he is.)

Anyway, the sonogram test was going along smoothly until he got to a specific spot and said "hmmm." Noooooooo! No, "hmmm"! I'm sick of the "hmmms!" I asked slick haired sonogram dude what was up and he told me to hang on. He said he wanted to try something and it might be uncomfortable, but he needed to see if he could get it to move. (I had an instant flashback to my mammogram when they were trying to make my original tumor disappear.) Sonogram dude starts poking me in the belly with his little sonogram stick rapidly. He stops. Looks back up at the screen and announces that I have gallstones.

Are you freakin' kidding me?

If you could just kindly go out back, build a barn, take me behind it and just shoot me now... that would be great! He said it was probably something I didn't want to worry about right now. YA THINK? (The picture above is of gallstones that have been removed from people. Neat, huh?)

Time to get dressed and shuffled out the door to Dr Young's office. I like Dr Young. She was so nice. We talked again about my options and she was very cool when I made my decision. I'm still not sure what's up with her shoes though. 5 inch black patent leather pointy toe shoes? Really? Maybe I've been a stay-at-home mom too long, but I just didn't see the point (no pun intended) She went over all my questions about diet and what to expect. She said my hair is going to be gone in about 2 weeks. I'll be on 4 different types of anti-nausea medications. And I start steroids Thursday. I might get moody.

The biggest thing we talked about though was sickness. Not how the chemo meds were going to make me sick, but how important it is that I don't get sick. I can't be around anyone with the sniffles or a cough. At all. I can't be near anyone who even says what they have is just allergies, cause sometimes those people are wrong. My children must wash their hands often and stay away from me if they do become ill. I shouldn't eat off salad bars. Sooo, if you think you are sick and you want to come see me. Don't. Thanks.

Part 2 tomorrow...

Decided

2009-03-11T01:28:00.000-05:00

As of Friday I will start chemotherapy. I will be in the drug trial. Along with that I am going to take the three powerful chemo meds all at once. (TAC for my breast cancer friends and anyone else who knows anything about chemo drugs.) I'm doing what is going to be brutal on my body, but what I believe is best for me. I don't want this. I still want to wake up from this nightmare! But since I can't, I know this is a nightmare I only want to live through once. A lot of people do not support the decision I've made and I am sorry. I wish we could have all been on the same page, but in the end it is me that has to freak out with every new pain that might suddenly appear. It's me that has to live my life knowing that if this does come back, which given the type of cancer I have is extremely possible, I did everything in my power to kill it the first time. I don't want to look back for one second and wonder if I made the right choice. I'll punish my body now for peace of mind later.

I do this because I love you all.

Sheri

Hold the Ribs

2009-03-09T23:29:00.000-05:00

It was a dark and stormy night as Tom looked over at me and said those magical words: "Crap, I'll go get the kids up - you get dressed, we're going to the emergency room."

This was Saturday, and no matter how much I didn't do, the pain in the side of my ribs was not improving -if anything, it was getting worse. But that is all it was was pain. Saturday was one of the few days that I was truly unable to do anything. I slept off and on as much as I could all day. Moving hurt and not moving hurt, there was no comfortable position. Finally late in the evening I had Tom take a look at it, but didn't tell him where the pain was...all I asked him was if he could see anything unusual. He noticed swelling right away. Drat.

We decided that since my doing nothing all day wasn't helping - the only smart thing to do would be more of doing nothing and see what happened. Turns out, it didn't help. The swelling got worse and now it was after midnight. I had to get on the phone with the hospital to find out what I should do. They told me to come in and get it checked. They didn't even care that it was nasty weather outside or that my children were already asleep.

I was already stressed about the pain. As I've pointed out in recent posts, the slightest thing will cause a cancer patient to freak out needlessly. Now I've got an insanely painful spot right below where I just had 2 cancerous tumors removed. Of course, I'm thinking cancer. I love my doctors though! They were kind enough to know that cancer people stress out and gave us handy little pills to help us relax. I took two of those neat pills just before I found out I had to go to the hospital.

With Allison, Jacob and I whining all the way, Tom drove us to the hospital. It's dark; it's raining; children are whining; and with every bump in the road I yell out in pain - Tom sure was sighing loudly. I really got the feeling he didn't want to be there. But we finally made it. And the parking lot was full. I think it was something like 1:30 in the morning. Tom mentioned how many cars there were and I tried to make a joke by saying all the cars belonged to the people who worked there. The joint was going to be empty. And you know what? It WAS!

Since it was the hospital where I just had my surgery, they had all my information and I was able to go right back into a little patient room. The nurse (whose name I wish I could remember, but can't) was wonderful. I loved her. I lifted my shirt to show her my poor little hurt ribs and she said: "Oh my God." You know that soft, quiet voice that people use when they don't realize they are actually talking out loud. That's how she said it. She said there was only one other patient besides me and the doctor was with her, but he would see me very soon.

I was feeling a tad loopy when she asked me if I wanted my family to come join me. It was a small room, people! So, I said no. Plus, I knew they had the waiting room to themselves. The nurse left for a few minutes, but returned with another nurse and informed me they needed a blood sample. My favorite nurse had a look of sheer horror on her face, while the other nurse look at the first nurse mockingly. "Problems, ladies?"

Nurse A: "You're having chemo, right, so you probably have a port?"
Me: "Tis correct, m'lady"
(Look of horror on her face grows while Nurse B starts to giggle)
Nurse A: "I can use your cath to draw blood"
Me: "Dandy by me"
Nurse B: "Nurse A is too scared to take blood through a port a cath"
Me: "Then take thee blood the old fashion way"
Nurse A: "The last time I tried to take blood through one of those, I thought I was in, but wasn't and ended up poking the poor woman several times. I felt so bad"
Me: "For the love of everything that is good in this world - use a vein in my arm to draw blood."
Nurse A: "Thank you"
Nurse B: (opens curtain to my little room and starts walking back and forth in front of my room as if she were a chicken WHILE making the "bawk bawk" sound)

This is how slow the hospital was on a Saturday night.

Anyway! Nice (and easy on the eyes) doctor strolls in to tell me he wants some chest x-rays. I leave instantly to have my x-rays. In and out of x-ray and back in my room. I asked Nurse A to get my family just before the doctor comes in, but until then I was going to text people. I wasn't sure why she looked at me like I was kidding, which I wasn't. I now know that when you text people at 2:30 in the morning - no one will respond back.

Tom and the kids come in about the same time as the doctor. He said my x-rays were clear, but if he had to guess, he would say it sounded like I had a virus in my ribs. He then wanted to know if the morphine was helping. Uh, no, not really at all. No one gave me morphine. Nurse A comes running in and shoots my butt full of morphine (please take this time to remember that before I got to the hospital I had taken two pills to relax myself.) I was feeling fine.

ER doctor called my surgeon who told him to send me home. So they sent me home. I could not walk a straight line. 3am or so, I'm not really sure, stoned as could be, so I needed a McDonald's ice coffee, hazelnut (yum!). Tom actually stopped and got me one.

It took all day Sunday to sleep off all those drugs. By the time the morphine was out of my system, I was popping percocet. My surgeon's office did call to check on me today to make sure I was starting to improve. She agreed that what I probably have is a virus in my ribs. I'll be fine to start chemo on Friday. Is this good news? I'm not sure.

A Little Too Loopy

2009-03-09T00:03:00.000-05:00

Most know that I had to go to the hospital last night. I've tried several times today and again tonight to write about it, but I'm either in too much pain or on too much pain killer to write. I shall report tomorrow!

Enough Already

2009-03-07T20:29:00.001-06:00

I don't feel like writing tonight, but I thought I'd give a quick update on today's adventures. Something is seriously wrong with my side. I've no idea what. There is pain when I move and when I don't move and this pain appeared suddenly! It's located on my left side slightly below where I had surgery. Touching one very specific area will send me through the roof. I'm on bed rest. I'm pretending it's nothing and I'm not thinking about it being cancer. But if I'm real quick and can stand the pain I will push on that area and I do feel some sort of small lump. I'm sure it's my imagination.

As Dictated by Allison Strickland

2009-03-06T19:55:00.001-06:00

On the day that my mom got the phone call saying she has cancer here is what I remember:

I remember everyone was crying (Sheri note: by everyone I think she means me). I didn't know what was going on, because no one would tell me. My mom asked me if I was ok. I had her tell me what made everyone upset. She said she has cancer. When she told me, I was playing on my dad's computer. I was watching funny videos and I couldn't laugh at any of the videos. I started thinking about pink ribbons and my mom.

I heard my dad talking on the phone with the doctor. He told her that his mom had died of breast cancer. That was when it really scared me. I guess I didn't know that his mom had died of breast cancer. I never knew her. She died when I was very little.

From that day on me, my brother and dad started praying every night before going to bed and that really helped.

My mom is recovering from her surgery and that is really really good. It helps me feel better. I am scared about her starting chemo because I know the she will lose her hair and become very very weak.

Something good is that a lot of people have been reaching out to us and bringing us meals. I think that is really awesome. But like my dad said we need to find as many blessings in this as we can.

Don't Be Fooled...Cancer Is Not Your Friend

2009-03-05T00:48:00.000-06:00

There are days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Honestly. Today was one of those days for me. It happened again! The same, but different - ya know? I almost don't want to tell this story, but I feel I need to, so the people who are reading this can attempt to get into the scary brain of a cancer person.

Here's what happened:

I'm all day online searching, researching, and searching again for my chemo answers. When I wasn't online, I was on the phone. Most of you probably knew this, because I was on the phone with YOU! Right now there are 100 people in this world, reading this and nodding their head thinking, "yep, she's talkin' about me." When I'm not on the phone, I'm back online writing and answering e-mails. I finally looked at the clock with my blurry little eyes and noticed it was almost 2pm. My children were going to be home from school and I haven't done anything. Ok, most days I don't do anything anyway, but I'm usually showered by 2pm. Ok, that's not exactly truthful either. Whatever! I was tired of sitting around.

I know I'm going to go somewhere fun and exciting, but I hadn't decided where yet. I take my shower and as I'm getting out, my cell phone rings! It's a sign! It has to be a sign telling me I need to go buy a new cell phone. Go forth and buyth an iPhone, Sheri - that's what I heard anyway. Well, because I had to be home when the children got off the bus at a little after 3:30, I knew I needed to rush. I go into my closet and grab my favorite blue jeans (old, old, Levi's that are a tad too big and probably should have been retired 5 years ago) and my Duke sweatshirt.

I'm going to pause here for a moment and say it is still "weird" for lack of a better word, to get dressed and not have to worry about putting on a bra. This is going to take a lot of getting used to, especially if I decide not to have reconstructive surgery (which is the way I'm leaning right now.)

Anyway! I haven't worn my favorite jeans since before my surgery. I know this, because I've only been wearing sweats around the house. When I put on the wonderfully comfortable feel of my Levi's...my heart stopped. They were HUGE! And I don't mean, "Oh, I've lost a couple pounds since I had surgery and now my pants are a fitting looser." I mean if I had let go of the waist, they were going to hit the floor. My mind started racing how this could be possible. I have been kickin' up the ice cream eating lately and everything. And then it dawned on me! I HAVE been eating a lot of ice cream and chocolates and brownies and cake. (Thanks, people from my church! I love you!) How could I have lost this much weight this quickly? Cancer. But breast cancer doesn't cause you to lose weight. No, but other types of cancers do cause that. Oh God.

My head was spinning. Now what. For a moment I thought I might actually throw up. I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I slid the jeans off. It was about this point that I noticed that those weren't my jeans. They were Tom's. Good grief. I hate this disease.

Losing My Mind

2009-03-03T16:00:00.000-06:00

I had to calm down before I could start writing this blog. I was so upset when I got home from the oncologist office that I was crying. My last visit with Dr. Young went so well and now I'm back to wishing I had changed doctors when I had the chance. Unfortunately, I want to be in her drug trial so I have to hang in there. Here's what happened, and once again, I'll backtrack it a little bit:

My original appointment with Dr Young was right after I had my lump removed and it came back as cancer. This is when she told me that it was a small lump, stage 1 and I would only need a lumpectomy and minimal chemotherapy. When I ask her about being triple negative, she responded casually that that was not really that big a deal. I researched it, and I knew it was. Plus, that was the visit she kept pointing up at the skinless poster. I can't stand that poster. I wasn't going to go back to her, but I got alarming news on my MRI and I couldn't get in to see anyone else quickly enough. Dr. Young really seemed concerned during this visit. She told me, according to the MRI, it appeared I have cancer in both breasts and in my lymph nodes. She bumped me up to a stage 2n1 cancer. She told me I needed a double mastectomy and three different types of chemo drugs given all at once for almost 6 months. I felt she was fighting for me!

Which brings us to today. I had a sense of fear going into this appointment. I figured it was nothing more than the final doctor visit before the dreaded chemo began which was bugging me. It turned out to be one nasty day....

Dear Dr. Young,

Dr. Young, you came into my room with such a big smile. You said we finally had good news to celebrate! No cancer in my lymph nodes. You went on to explain that because there was no cancer in my lymph nodes, I could go back to the original treatment plan. Really? The treatment plan that you told Tom you would give me if I were your sister. You SAID if I were your sister you would still only recommend a lumpectomy and 4 treatments of chemo, using only two types of drugs. Today you told me all I had was 2 small tumors, each less than 2 cm. When I tried to correct you, you talked to me like I was a child. I had to tell you that I already had a 1.6 cm tumor removed...the 1.3 cm tumor that was removed was what was MISSED the first time. You said you forgot that I had a lumpectomy done and not a needle biopsy. You aren't especially close with your sisters, are you?

Let's think about this, k? It was after the MRI that you told me that I had cancer in both breasts and in a lymph node. You were wrong. You never mentioned anything about any other tumors in my left breast and do you know why? Because you didn't see it. What you thought was cancer, wasn't. What was cancer, you failed to mention? Remember when that was brought up today about how you didn't know about the second tumor, you said you did know there was "something" there. And you didn't mention this.......... WHY? So, now today I'm your sister again and you looked me in the eyes and told me as your sister, the chemo treatment you would give me would be only 4 treatments with only two different drugs. What a lovely smile when you said I might not lose all my hair.

Dr. Young, right this minute, I do not like you. I do not respect you. I do not believe you care about me living or dying. Right now, Dr. Young, you've left the decision up to me as to which chemo treatment I should have. Do I want the 6 treatments of 3 drugs or the one you'd give your sister: 4 treatments of 2 drugs? You missed seeing a 1.2 cm tumor on the MRI report. What else have you missed?

Love and Hugs.

Your Friend,

Sheri

P.S. Your shoes were extremely ugly today and I'm not just saying that because I'm so angry with you.

Let the Fun Begin

2009-03-03T00:16:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow morning is my appointment with Dr. Young to talk about all the fun details of chemotherapy. We'll go over the full pathology report and talk about all the neat stuff they found when they removed my breasts. You know the really sad part? There is still that part of me that hopes when I go in there that she'll say it was all a mistake. I want her to tell me that after they removed my breasts, they found no cancer; that I never had cancer. I know what you're thinking and I promise you - I PROMISE you - I'm ok if they tell me there was never any cancer in my breasts. Ok, what you're really thinking is that this isn't going to happen. She won't say that to me. Give me a 1 in 10 chance, though, ok?

They've removed my breasts. I still can't look in the mirror when I get out of the shower. BUT! I would rather my breasts were removed needlessly than to live with the fear that one day this cancer will return. Worse than that is the fear that I'm not going to survive this. I'd rather be a grandmother who never should have had her breasts removed than a mother whose children have to watch slowly die. I do think about dying. I can't help it. Everyone is telling me to keep a positive attitude. That's not possible for me to do everyday. I do try.

I don't want chemotherapy. If they tell me there was never any cancer, I wouldn't have to have chemo. I'd be fine with them having made a mistake. I've said my prayers to God asking Him to change His mind, because I don't want to go through all this. Is it really too late now, God? I promise I won't sue the doctors or hospitals or anyone. I'll be happy the cancer was never there. Please.

God has a plan for me - I may not like it; I may get angry, but I know my life is completely in His hands:

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

1 There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven
2 A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
3 A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up.
4 A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.
5 A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
6 A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away.
7 A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak.
8 A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace

Now What???

2009-02-26T21:39:00.000-06:00

After my mastectomy I looked forward to the healing and pain free days. I feel like I'm becoming the biggest whiner, but danged if I don't have something else to cry about now.

Today is exactly two weeks since I had surgery. The major pain from surgery is gone, but now what I have is something that I don't know if I can properly describe. I don't feel like I have to go into detail to explain the pain I felt when I had my breasts removed. Everyone probably has a pretty good understanding that that hurt. One thing, though, they warned me all my nerves would be cut and I wouldn't have surface feeling anymore. I've had no feeling on my skin area at all - I mean dead numb - or it was. I am now developing a feeling in parts of that area that make me want to rip my skin off.

There are areas of skin on my chest that are hyper-sensitive. I want nothing touching, feeling, looking, existing near or thinking about that area. I can't find a shirt soft enough to wear. Everything that brushes up against my chest makes me want to jump through the roof. None of the kids' friends are allowed to come inside anymore cause Mommy refuses to wear a shirt most of the time. When I do have one on, I have it pulled away from my chest.

The other night I was sitting on the couch watching TV and sensed Jacob was staring. Finally, he asked why it was that I had my shirt pulled forward in front of me and I was looking down it. I explain that I wasn't really looking down it, I was blowing softly on my skin under my shirt. He asked if that made it feel better. I told him no. So, of course, he wanted to know why I was doing it. I thought long and hard and finally decided I would answer his question with a question - one that only his 7 year old mind would understand: I asked if his homework was done; surely he had better things to do than stand there bothering me with complicated questions.

Good News and Bad News

2009-02-24T14:33:00.000-06:00

The good news is I got my drains removed yesterday! Yayyyyyy!

The bad news is it wasn't time for them to be removed. All further draining will have to be done with the giant cartoon like needle.

Yesterday my right drain tube got loose where it was attached to my side. Every time I moved my arm I could hear it sucking in air. I've not ever been to medical school, but something told me this was not a good thing. The funny part to all this was that my mom left Saturday with great concern about leaving me alone to fend for myself during the day. She was afraid something would happen and I'd have no one to take me to the doctor. Oh pshaw, mom, you're such a worrier.

As it happens I was indeed alone when my mishap happened. It ended up not being that giant big of a deal, but it was scary for a moment. In my little panicky mind, I envisioned my right chest side slowly filling up with air like a balloon. It doesn't actually work that way.

Anyway! As you all have noticed, I'm no longer writing in my blog everyday anymore. There just isn't anything to report on the cancer front. I do go to the surgeon on Friday and to my oncologist Tuesday. As soon as the surgeon decides I'm healed and good to go, I will be released to the oncologist for chemotherapy.

I promise to keep all update coming your way. For now there will not be daily posts, well... because there just isn't anything to post. And I mean anything. I'm home alone all day doing nothing. Nothingggggggggggg!

As always, thanks for your prayers.

All Clogged Up

2009-02-22T00:12:00.000-06:00

The only thing worse than my drain tube being clogged up again (still?) is having to hear Tom say I told you so.

Ok, he's not really used the words "I told you so" - more along the lines of sarcastic comments on how he sure is glad he didn't tell me to go to the doctor on Friday to get that drain checked before the weekend. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tom was right. What a hero.

So my right drain tube is still clogged. I guess that makes sense since she didn't fix the darn thing. All she was finally able to do was manually drain my right side. It's all full and swollen again. Full and swollen equal pain. Pain equals crabby me. I'm crabby and Tom's using sarcasm. I just don't see how this is going to end well.

Read at Your Own Risk

2009-02-19T01:52:00.000-06:00

I couldn't sleep. Again. I'm so tired of the pain on my right side, I don't know what to do. My left side drain seems to be draining properly and isn't really giving me much issue. I know the right side drain is clogged. Want to know how I know? Not much is draining into the drainy thing-a-do AND I'm swollen like about 200 times more than the other side. I took a picture to prove I'm not exaggerating. Notice the HUGE difference in sides? (I edited out the surgery scars)

I had a planned doctor's visit today. Mom and I scampered out the door only stopping to buy me a hazelnut ice coffee from McDonald's. Tasty! Even with my wonderful coffee drink, I'm still in a just horrible mood. It wasn't just lack of sleep that got my mood bad, but another heart stopping lump that I found. Yes, before going to sleep I was messing with the drain on my right side and thought I felt something hard just under the skin. It felt about the size of a pea. I messed with it for about half an hour hoping it would disappear somehow. When the silly thing never went away, I had to wake up Tom. Conversation went a little something like this:

Tom: What's the matter?

Crazy Cancer Girl: I found a lump

Tom: WHAT?

CCG: Feel this (grabbing his hand and pulling it toward the area of said lump)

Tom: (pulling hand back not wanting to feel) I don't want to feel. There is nothing I can do tonight.

CCG: Just feel it!

Tom: Why? How is that going to make you feel better?

CCG: TOUCH IT! FEEL THE LUMP! JUST DO IT! FEEL THE LUMP! FEEL THE LUMP! FEEL THE LUMP!

Tom: (sigh) Ok, where is it?

CCG: (placing Tom's hand on the lump) Here. Do you feel it?

Tom: Yes, there is definitely something there, but don't wig out. It could be anything. Make sure you ask the doctor about it. Please get some sleep now.

CCG: (Totally wigging out and getting hysterical on the inside) Ok, good night. And thanks.

CCG: (Lying in bed worried and wide awake all night.)

Tom: (Lying in bed worried and unable to get back to sleep because of worry.)

Anyway! We get to the doctor and I tell her my right drain is clogged. She, of course, being the professional, messed around with it for 20 minutes before announcing to me that the drain was clogged. She's good, that gal. So here is what happens when your breast drain gets clogged up (read at your own risk):

1. tape is removed from part of stitched up breast area

2. area is wiped clean

3. local anaesthesia shot

4. giant needle - like you see on cartoons with a HUGE suction thing on the back (sorry about all the medical terms, hope all you non medical people are still able to follow this) is poked into swollen area

5. pull back the suction thing anddddddd....... nothing

6. turn needle in different direction and pull back ......... nothing

7. turn again and......... nothing

At this point I had to tell her that I thought perhaps what she was doing wasn't working - she obviously was unable to figure this out on her own. Eventually enough - she did agree.

8. repeat steps 1 - 4 but about two inches over from where she tried the first time.

9. pull back suction thing andddddddd...... viola!

SA WEEET RELIEF!

Seriously, by the time she fill that giant needle thingy (I didn't look to see how much liquid it held, but my guess is a couple gallons), I felt so much less pain. Much less pressure under my arm.

I did ask her about the lump, but she wasn't even slightly concerned. She said there was no way that went unnoticed during surgery. She said it was probably just a fatty build up that happened after surgery. Promised me it was nothing. Whew. Those are words I can trust now.

I go back to the doctor on the 27th and HOPEFULLY I will get these horrible drains removed. I pray they get removed and I pray that until they finally do, I am able to live more comfortably with them.

Random Items

2009-02-18T19:26:00.000-06:00

This is a picture of a breast cancer cell. Neat, huh? I just copied that off the net, so I don't know anything else about it except that it's a breast cancer cell. Probably not actual size.

I have had many people call and e-mail me to let me know they are having problems posting comments. I don't know why. I did a tiny amount of research and found where it says that this is an issue they have been working on since Dec 29. Sorry, y'all. It's a free blog site, so I guess I'm getting what I pay for.

I'm insanely sleepy today. I've not had the energy to get up and do anything. My pain level is starting to ease, but is still worse than I expected to be by this time.

My mom has been doing a fantastic job helping me out. She's driving me to doctor appointments and cooking and cleaning and laundry. Thanks, Mom!

And that's it. I will post to let y'all know what happened after my appointment tomorrow.

Good night!

Tom Here on Sheri's Behalf

2009-02-17T21:34:00.000-06:00

Sheri is having a bad night after a not-so-bad day. She's in a lot of pain from ... surgery, drain tubes, we fear BLOCKED drain tubes, and nausea, which could be from the pain, or the pain pills, or both. Whatever the causes, since she's too blah to blog, but is nonetheless bursting at the seams with news too weird and too good to keep to herself, she asked me to pinch hit for her. Gladly!

A quick refresher:

1. The MRI results were NOT good! It showed "hot spots" or "areas of concern" in ...

A) Sheri's left breast, which indicated that the tumor was bigger than they first thought. Recall that they started out with an estimate of 6 to 7 millimeters (about 1/4 inch). Then every time we talked to them after that, they upped the estimated size even more! First it was 1.5 cm (about 1/2 inch), then they went over 2 cm (about 3/4 inch). That in turn moved her from a stage 1 tumor to a stage 2 tumor.
B) The lymph nodes on the left side. The oncologist estimated that 1 and possibly 2 nodes were cancerous. (She put it at 80 percent that Sheri had cancer there.) Based on this, she went on and staged Sheri as a Stage 2, N1 (one node).
C) Her right breast, where there showed several ... spots. The oncologist didn't say they were cancer. Could be pre-cancerous, she said. (Still not good.)

2. Surgery removed everything in question. Recall that they did a quick check for cancer in her lymph nodes during surgery and didn't find any. But pathology had a boat load of tissue to search through and we were told that it could be several days before we got the results of checks on her left and right breasts and her lymph nodes.

Today was the day!

Okay, Sheri's nodes are clean. We've come to LOVE percentages based on these two numbers alone. Sheri was given that original 90 percent chance that she didn't have cancer. Frankly, she was too cocky, based solely on those odds. She was as you all know the "1 in 10." Someone had to be. Now, faced with the 80 percent chance of having cancer in her lymph nodes, she accepted her fate. She HAS TO BE in the 8 out of 10, right? Wrong! Ha! Is God trying to tell us something?

We'll just thank God and try to make sense of this another day.

The spots in Sheri's right breast were not cancer. Again, thank the Lord! She can't remember for sure what the clinician said they were. She remembers that it's rare. I've taken a guess that she said it was calcification. It's a guess! If someone is smart enough to know that's not possible, keep it to yourself. Deal?

Here's the kicker....

From the outset, Sheri has been given the "opportunity" to save her breast (left) or breasts (both). They were less enthusiastic about doing lumpectomies after the MRI showed "the spots" in Sheri's right breast. They said, "If that's pre-cancerous tumors then I'm afraid we'll be chasing the cancer, but if you want to try to save your breasts, it's an option that's still on the table." Sheri of course thought about it (who wouldn't?), but in the end, you know her decision.

So, the tumor which just keeps getting bigger and bigger was upped today to almost 3 centimeters, which God only knows how big that is in a unit of measure that we can understand. I believe they ended up quadrupling that tumor's estimated size over the past 2 months. Next month it will be a bolder!

But it gets better!

Sheri's left breast has gotten more attention over the past 2 months than Jessica Simpson's waistline, butt, and ugly jeans combined! She has routinely and repeatedly had doctors give her breast exams. She's had probably 8 to 10 mammography shots from virtually every imaginable angle. She's had a sonagram. She's had the MRI. After all of that, she still had the option of them performing a lumpectomy. And had she made that choice, she would have never known about a SECOND tumor in her left breast! Gasp!

You read right friends and fellow countrymen. They missed a tumor of 1.3 centimeters in her left breast! Even as I type this, my head is still reeling! I don't even know what to do with this news except to thank God!

We have had one weird incident after another throughout this ordeal. Recall that Sheri went in for a low thyroid and her family doctor who she just met decided to do a breast exam. He felt something. But ... even after the mammogram CONFIRMED a lump, neither the surgeon nor the oncologist could find it during their exams. I should say, they couldn't find EITHER ONE OF THEM! If you don't believe in God then you say, "Wow, how lucky!" I say "wow" alright, but I end it with "how wonderful! Thank you Lord!"

From that so-called flukey first lump discovery to the so-called flukey second lump discovery and every day and every way in between, the Lord has been there. He could have dazzled us without cancer, but there's something about the cancer that seems to guarantee that we're paying attention. We are! We are impressed! And humbled. And eternally thankful.

Lord willing, Sheri will be back tomorrow night with hopefully more light and laughter. I like a good yuck too, but right now I am just too blown away by God to joke much.

As always, thank you for your prayers, kind thoughts, generousity, warmth, and friendship. You are all wonderful!

Lord bless.

Tom

A Strong Woman

2009-02-16T23:55:00.000-06:00

Two unbelievable months ago all of this started. Since being diagnosed, I've heard a lot of people call me a strong woman. Many people expressed that they don't think they could do what I'm doing. I have to do this, what other choice do I have?

There was a time when it wasn't a black or white choice. In the beginning there was a gray choice. I had options! After my MRI results showed what could possibly be four small areas of cancer in my right breast, and a large portion of the original lump had been left behind in my left breast, I lost the gray. My only choice became black or white: lose the cancer-filled breasts or keep them and let the cancer spread throughout my body. Here I am now, two months later, staring at my chest where my breasts used to be. I had no choice. I have no choice but to keep going through this.

Today was the day the bandages came off. Today I'm back falling apart again. I believed people when they told me I was so strong and confident. It's days like today that make me realize I'm not strong. Being forced down a path that I never wanted to go down isn't an accomplishment. At times, I've walked this journey with my head held high in determination, but there were times I was clawing the ground with my fingernails and begging God to not make me walk any farther.

I'm glad I'm keeping this blog so I can go back and read previous posts. I'm using them as a way to remind me of the blessings that have come about from my cancer. Today I stepped out of the first shower since my mastectomy and I needed those reminders. I was so happy to finally be able to bathe since my surgery, but I wasn't prepared for that first real look at myself in the mirror. I don't know how long I stood there - I think I was in shock. No amount of reading, researching or looking at post surgery pictures of other women could have prepared me for that moment.

After quite awhile, I decided I just couldn't stand looking at myself anymore. It's a weird experience when you are in such a state of shock that you don't realize you had started crying. I was feeling sorry for myself. I hate that. The best thing I could do was just get dressed and try and forget about what I've lost and how I desperately wanted it back.

I'm not strong. I'm doing what I have to do. God didn't give me a choice.

*note: It's almost 4am and I've still not been to bed. I posted this much earlier in the night and I just finished reading it again and trying to save it into something that isn't rambling nonsense. I was going to just delete it and start over tomorrow, but I'm too emotional. Anything else I write right now will probably turn out like this. Let me fight this depression then I'll be back with my usual weird blog posts.

God Bless,
Sheri

Wonderful Gifts

2009-02-15T11:17:00.000-06:00

First things first...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS VAL!

Now - I want to say thank you to everyone for all the wonderful presents that have been sent to me. Flowers, plants, scarves, hats, cards, chocolates, muffins, fruit and a wonderfully tasty cookie bouquet that I did not share. This is not the official thank you to everyone that gave me gifts - I just wanted y'all to know I am receiving AND appreciating them. I've fallen behind on replying back to e-mails and returning phone calls.

Tom was right...I don't deserve all of this.

Thanks to all of y'all I've been able to find so many blessings from breast cancer. I wouldn't wish this disease on anyone, but I hope everyone is able at sometime in their life to feel the love and caring that has been poured my way. The constant prayers, encouragement, advice and comments on my blog from people I've never met overwhelms me. My family would drop anything and everything to help me. Old friends and new friends are bringing me food and prayer. I love you all! But you're not getting any of my cookies.

*****

Pain today has been almost unbearable. Yesterday I was miserable, but able to get up and walk around - today I've been in my bed or recliner with very little movement in between. Tomorrow will be better, right?

Feeling Swell

2009-02-15T01:29:00.000-06:00

It's the middle of the night and I just got off the phone with my surgeon. Because I have these neat little drains hanging down from my chest, I shouldn't have much swelling - but I do. And it is getting worse.

It started this afternoon when I realized it hurt when my right arm was flat against my body. It also hurts to lift my arms any higher than chest level (that part is normal though.) Mom agreed that the swelling was bad and we talked about putting in a call to the doctor's office. We decided to wait until tomorrow (Sunday) to see if it would get better on it's own.

My armpit area on up to my collar bone hurts like crazy. I also noticed that my neck felt warm to the touch. Upon closer inspection, it appears the neck wanted to join in on the swell fun. I can't get a decent picture for you to appreciate just how much my neck has puffed out and turned red. Tom said he can't tell that my neck is swollen. This amazes me. I used to think Tom was a pretty dang smart guy. I guess it's true what they say: you never really know someone until you lose your breasts.

Anyway, I checked my paperwork and it said to notify my doctor if I have any unusual pain or swelling. This is my first (and last!) double mastectomy, so I have no idea what is considered to be pain and swelling out of the ordinary. I woke up my surgeon and described the pain (the most horrible pain in all the world and the pain pills weren't working and I was even taking more than I was directed to take...how'd she like those apples, hmm?) I told her about the swelling, too. She wanted to know which side. I told her the right side. She said it was the port-a-cath that was probably causing the "discomfort" and nothing for me to worry about. I was told to double check the drains to ensure there were no clots clogging them up. Gross.

OH! And I could try Advil to help manage the pain.

And she went back to her comfortable sleep.

Mom Arrives

2009-02-14T19:05:00.000-06:00

I am miserable. The pain pills seem to last a little over 2 hours, but I'm only allowed to take them every 4 hours. I don't care anymore. I'm taking the pills whenever I need them. I have drains where my breasts used to be. They make it impossible to get comfortable.

Thankfully my mother is here to help out for the week. I'm done for the day. Back to bed. Tomorrow has to be better.

Happy Valentine's Day! Blah.

Home

2009-02-13T13:50:00.001-06:00

There was a gentleman in the hospital room right next door to mine who kept forgetting to breathe. Why did I just tell you this? Because the hospital was kind enough to blast some sort of foghorn sounding device as a gentle reminder to him to breathe whenever he forgot. He forgot to breathe a lot. A LOT! My doctor told me I could go home as soon as I felt up to it. Thanks to breathless dude, I'm home sooner than I probably wanted to be. Tom and the kids can be my nurses until my mom gets here tomorrow.

I'm sleepy, tired, in pain, queasy, whiny, kinda hungry, covered in hives and extremely boobless. But I'm home. And as far as I can tell, no one in my house seems to be having any problems breathing - so I think I'll finally get some sleep.

I'm proud to say I walked through that part of my journey without many tears since waking up in the recovery room. I can feel God's hand with me - guiding me to my next step (a scary one.) Monday I go in to have the bandages removed.

2009-02-13T02:15:00.000-06:00

(Tom again, on Sheri's behalf)

Greetings from the land of drains and pains! As the night wore on and then turned the corner on Friday morning, Sheri has been slowly coming to. Her first trip to the rest room looked more like the last quarter mile of a marathon run. All uphill. While wearing a ruck sack. With ankle weights. And for good measure, maybe toss in a fat guy trying to tackle her. It wasn't me! Ten hour earlier, she came in this hospital full of energy and terror. Two breasts and lots of tears later, Sheri can hardly get out of bed! Her first steps to the restroom were like a newborn fold's first wobbly steps. But Sheri's return trip to bed was better. Then her next trip to and fro' the restroom was much stronger! She's already coming back! (Thank you, Lord.)

I look at Sheri for any signs. She's smiling and cute and everything that makes Sheri Sheri. Then she winces and we call for pain meds. But either way, she's a keeper!

It's early morning and sleep is fitfull. We were told a short while ago that Sheri's discharge papers are ready to go. Lord willing, we are out of this joint at first light!

Lord willing, this is my last transmission from the front lines of breast cancer. If all goes well, you all will begin receiving emails from Sheri later today and maybe a post by this evening. Until then, thanks once more for all of your prayers and more.

You are all wonderful and this all is to God's glory.

Lord bless!

2009-02-12T19:52:00.000-06:00

(From Tom)

I am logged into Sheri's blog from a computer kiosk just outside her room at Saint Lukes South in Overland Park, Kansas. Surreal, huh!

It is surgery day! It doesn't seem real that it's been almost two months since they first discovered the lump in Sheri's left breast. Two months from that first alarming finding to this, a day that would bid farewell to her breasts.

Our day started with us hastily getting ready for our early morning trip to the hospital. We arrived around 9:30 AM, with Sheri in a full-blown tizzy. Our Pastor was there to meet us. Sheri was falling to pieces, with tears streaming down her cheeks, that ashen look on her face, and nervous shudders rippling through her body. This is what utter helplessness feels like!

We had just enough time for the Pastor to say a quick prayer and then off to Sheri's room for preparations for the procedure that has become known as the dreaded sentinel node test. Sheri's research on the 'net and her talks with doctors and nurses had built this test up in her mind as the ... MOST PAINFUL TEST ON THE PLANET! To hear Sheri talk, you would think that Dr. Mengela himself invented this test! Sheri has stressed repeatedly that she was more worried about this test than the double mastectomy. Okay....

They weren't going to give her anything other than a little lidocaine creme to "ease the pain," but Sheri's tears and obvious nerves forced their hand and they finally gave her a little something to "take the edge off." Then the test....

A really sweet seeming lady injected four radioactive isotopes around each areola, which means that Sheri had to endure four needles poked into each breast with precious little pain killer. Our first blessing of the day was that it didn't hurt NEARLY as badly as Sheri's extremely active imagination had her believing it would. Mind you, it hurt, but even if it was a 10 on the pain scale, that's far below the 1,000 that Sheri expected it to be. Suffice it to say, she made it through, giving the lady a minimal scowl on her way out of the room.

An hour later they took Sheri to radiology for the test itself. They came back with the word, we found her sentinel nodes. In the distance I imagined faintly hearing the Marine Corps band playing that crowd favorite, "We Found the Nodes!"

Now, for those of you following this silliness, finding the nodes was merely a step in the process, but not THE step. Come surgery time, still hours off, the surgeon would remove the sentinel nodes and do a quick handoff to the path guy, who will do a quick looksee for cancer. Depending on how many, if any, nodes have cancer, they take one or two more (as a precaution). Given Sheri's MRI results, the oncologist said it "was 80 percent" that Sheri has cancer in at least one lymph node. But I'm getting ahead of myself. It was only 11:00 AM and surgery would not be for at least 2 more hours.

Between 11:00 AM and 1:30 PM, I went back and forth between Sheri's room and the waiting room, where our wonderful children patiently (and at times IMPATIENTLY) sat waiting on this day to end. Finally at 1:30 PM they wheeled her to surgery and we hit the door running to Bob Evans (Jerry Owens, for you Dallas folk) and then we zipped home to let the evil rat dog out to pee.

We got back in plenty of time for more waiting. Tick, tock, tick, tock. A kind lady from our church joined us in the vigil. In fact, she had been there for a long while before we got back. (I felt bad for her having had to wait alone.) Finally at 5:45 PM Sheri's surgeon came out smiling. I quipped, "Well, you're smiling. Hopefully that means that you didn't lose her." She said, "No, we didn't lose her." (Let's count that as a big blessing.)

She then went on to say that Sheri was in recovery, talking, doing well, etc. She said that they didn't find any cancer in the lymph nodes on either side. Thank God! Of course, she reminded me that pathology will continue to look in the days to come, but that quick initial test during surgery showed no cancer. What more could we ask for?

Between pain and nausea, they've given Sheri lots and lots of drugs since she came out of the OR. She has not spoken 20 words to us since. It's three hours into her recovery and she just took her first sips of soda and ... right back to sleep.

Sheri wants me to tell you all how much we both appreciate your prayers, your love, your gifts, and your kind offers of help. You all have been so gracious! I want to say that we don't deserve any of this, but if Sheri were awake she would say, "Hey! Speak for yourself!" So, I will. I don't deserve this.

Lord willing, Sheri will get to go home tomorrow. Lord willing, Sheri doesn't have any more cancer than we first knew about. Lord willing, Sheri is on her way to a full recovery. Lord willing.

Thank you all for everything. Your kindness means more to Sheri than you will ever know. Lord bless.

Tom (for my beloved Sheri)

Tomorrow

2009-02-11T23:11:00.000-06:00

I've had a lot of e-mails and calls asking me what time my surgery is tomorrow...

My actual surgery is at 1:00pm (they estimate it taking about 4 hours.)
I have to be at the hospital at 9:00am for a sentinel node test. From what I understand it is extremely painful. I'm under unbelievable stress tonight, because of what I've heard about this test.

Due to everything going on the next few days (kids are out of school until Tuesday, my mom coming into town on Saturday and that pesky little surgery) Tom will not be updating the blog right away. He said he'll get to it first chance he gets.

God Bless you all for all your prays.

Much love,

Sheri

Literally

2009-02-10T08:47:00.000-06:00

Pet peeves

These are mine in no particular order...

Please don't use the word literally incorrectly. "That was so scary I literally died." No, you did not.

If you are now behind me 110%, that means you have only been behind me 90% up until this point. The best anyone can do is 100%. It just is! I didn't make the rules.

When you drink please don't gulp. I have no idea why, but that swallow sound makes me literally want to rip your head off. Ok, maybe not literally, but I will give you a disapproving look.

********

Sorry, I'm just very cranky today. I can't get rid of my migraine that I've had for two days now. Yesterday my beautiful cousin Valerie (my aunt Judy's daughter; not to be confused with my other beautiful cousin Valerie who is the daughter of my aunt Audrey) and I went wig shopping. I now have two very lovely wigs that I would love to model for y'all, but am unable because of this stupid headache.

I literally want to rip my own head off.

By the way, wig shopping? SUPER FUN! Especially when done with a super cool chick like my cousin Princess V.

Plastic Surgery

2009-02-08T21:38:00.000-06:00

To reboob or not to reboob...

So, I'm watching the Grammy's tonight and it got me thinking about plastic surgery. I know what you're thinking, "Wow, Sheri, how could the Grammy's get you thinking about plastic surgery?" I have no idea, really. I think it's my narcissistic personality.

Plastic surgery, from what I understand, is extremely painful. Do I really want to put myself through the pain of reconstruction surgery? Is it just for vanity reasons? I know, once again, I'm putting the cart ahead of the mastectomy mule, but this time it's not my fault. Blame Paul Mccartney, Smokey Robinson, Barry Manilow and many many other singers that I thought were old, but turns out they look shockingly (and I mean that literally) young.

Ughhh, I'm tired of thinking about all this. I'm glad I decided to take time off from all this cancer/surgery drama. I'm feeling very relaxed. Now if only I could get Sir Paul to lose the "oh no! Sheri's got cancer" look from his face.

When to Worry

2009-02-07T23:30:00.000-06:00

Last night was a bad, bad, bad, bad night. Bad!

Tom and the kids went to bed last night. I decided I would stay up to worry about nipples. As many of you know, worrying about nipples is very thirsty business. Sooo, I went to pick up my little half empty glass of water and almost dropped it, because of a stabbing pain in my elbow. It took a second for that to register before I got physically sick from panic. All I could think was that my dad was right to be upset with me for cancelling my bone scan last week. At my last appointment with Dr Young, she asked me if I was having any unexplained pain in my bones. Nope, I told her, only emotional pains. I was so cocky; I was feeling fine! Now here I am having a sudden sharp pain in my right elbow.

RATS! Bone cancer?

I had no idea what to do. I thought about waking Tom, but I knew that I would only end up worrying him, too. Might as well just let him sleep. Unfortunately, each moment that passed last night the more anxious I got. Even the slightest weight put on my elbow would cause pain. At 4:30am, I was playing online bingo in an attempt to get my mind off this new found panic. It had an added benefit of being very boring; therefore, finally getting me tired enough to be able to fall asleep.

When I woke up this morning, my elbow was still hurting just as badly; so, I knew I had to tell Tom. I calmly told him about the sudden, unexplained pain. Bless Tom, he was so sweet. He talked about how it was too early to be alarmed. He said he knew it had to be rough for me, because with every new pain comes the fear that the cancer has spread elsewhere in my body. I showed him my arm and it was then that he wanted to know about the bright red scrape and the bruise on my forearm and elbow.

Huh?

Ohhh! I forgot I banged my elbow while taking out the trash yesterday.

Never mind.

Losing a Part of Me

2009-02-06T22:09:00.000-06:00

How long until she is able to put her arm down? Since I'm having both breasts removed, my fear is that I'll look like I'm being held up at gun point for days on end. Truth is, I know that it will be painful for me to lift my arms for quite a long period of time after surgery.

We can all pretend that poster doesn't look THAT bad. But it does. Who can tell me what is missing from this picture? Class? Class? Anyone? Anyone? (Julie H., please close your eyes, because talk is going to be about nipples.)

I am going to lose my nipples. That is messing with me worse than you can even imagine. I know that there are people out there who are missing arms and legs and would trade places with me in a heartbeat. They're just nipples! Yeah, but they're mine.

Due to the fact that my surgery needs to happen without anymore delay - plus the added fact that they want to start chemotherapy as quickly as possible after surgery - I will not be able to have reconstructive surgery at the same time that I have my breasts removed. Things will be delayed greatly if we try to schedule my breast removal to be followed immediately with plastic surgery. You see, I need to be healed before I can start chemo. Reconstructive surgery slows healing time. If you do not start the reconstruction process right after the original surgery, your nipples will be lost. I know, I know, I know! My life is worth so much more than something so trivial as nipples. I'm scared what it will be like to wake up without breasts AND any hint of what should be there.

(My cousin's boyfriend offered to donate his nipples to me - he said boys don't need theirs. I had to kindly decline that touching offer. Thank you, Rick! I will bake you cookies.)

The fun part is knowing that after all is said and done...once all the cancer is blasted out of my body...I get to start painful surgery all over again with the reconstruction process. I have to remind myself to not think about any of this mess right now. This was supposed to be my nine days of no cancer talk. Easier said than done. I'm only supposed to be thinking about the next step that lies ahead on this journey. Again, easier said than done. Tonight I fell off the wagon.

Here's where I am right now: my house is clean; my laundry is caught up; I'm having a wonderful time with my family; I'm laughing with neighbors and I'm feeling less stress than I've felt since the day I found out I have cancer. But, I still have that little voice in the back of my mind reminding me that I have cancer.

Cheesecake might shut that voice up.
Only one way to find out!

Seven Days

2009-02-05T16:58:00.001-06:00

An actual phone call:

Sheri: Hello?
J: Hey! You didn't update your blog yesterday.
S: I've nothing new to report about the cancer until after my surgery on the 12th. I thought I made that clear on my last post.
J: So?
S: (sigh) The point of this blog is to update about my breast cancer.
J: So?
S: I'm done with doctor appointments and tests. There is nothing more for me to put in the blog until I have my surgery.
J: But I like your blog and you are so beautiful and I've discovered that if I do not read your blog everyday that I cannot make it through the day. Yesterday I spent 12 hours in the fetal position while waiting for your new post. Please don't make me go through another day like that again.
S: Others feel this way?
J: Everyone in the world.
S: I had no idea.
J: There is no way you would have known, because you are completely free of ego.
S: I will admit that is one of my better qualities - and I have many. Hey? You want me to list all my great qualities?
J: YES! PLEASE!

Obviously, the call went on for many hours after that and I don't have to time to type all that out.

SERIOUSLY now - the purpose of this post is to say thank you to everyone for their kind words about my blog. You've no idea how good it makes me feel to know that a) people are actually reading what I'm typing and b) that people are enjoying it. As anyone can imagine, going through this is a roller coaster of emotions. The wonderful feed backs, kind words and especially all the prayers have made this almost bearable at times. If no one minds, I think I'll continue posting for the next 7 days, even if there are no more breast cancer updates.

Nine Days

2009-02-04T00:12:00.000-06:00

Today was my last doctor visit until my surgery on the 12th. No more tests or consultations or anything else. All I have to do is count down until the surgery date. On Feb 12, I will be having my breasts removed along with some lymph nodes and up to four drains put in. I will have a shunt implanted above my heart for chemotherapy. On the 12th I will find out if I need radiation or not; it's depending on how many lymph nodes show cancer and how close to my chest wall the tumor is. All that and they think I should be out of the hospital and happily at home the next day. Happily was my word. It was sarcasm.

I'm not going to sit around worried about what is going to happen in 9 days. I'm no longer going to spend all day and night researching breast cancer or crying on the phone to people because I have breast cancer. It's all pretty much set now. No matter what else I learn or how sad I get between then and now, nothing is going to change. This operation is going to happen. And I'm ok. I am truly ok.

I can't imagine that I will be updating my little blog everyday between now and then. I guess I could keep updating the blog, but it seems unlikely that people will keep coming back to read things like, "today I was going to wash clothes, but my Netflix movies came in so I ate an entire bag of Cheetos and watched movies."

Here's hoping Netflix comes in tomorrow!

My Journey

2009-02-02T22:12:00.000-06:00

I'm looking at breast cancer not as a battle, per se, but as a journey. I know a lot of survivors say they won the battle and I think that's awesome. They did win. But for me, I don't feel that I'm fighting. Not really.

What I have done is to see the best doctors in the Kansas City area. I've listened to their advice and prayed to God to guide me in the correct direction. I will now do everything in my power to survive.

My power is praying, asking for prayer and following the advice of doctors and specialists that I trust. My journey is doing these things one at a time. (Does any of this make sense?) For me a battle is mean and fierce and bloody and painful. Yep, cancer is mean and fierce and bloody and painful, but I'd rather look at it as a path I'm being forced to follow. (Now is anyone following?)

I have absolutely no idea how this journey is going to end. I don't. I know how I PRAY it will end. Is everyone aware that since the day I found out I have breast cancer my survival rate has done nothing but drop? I started out having a 92% survival rate. Once it was discovered that I was triple negative I moved down to 77% survival rate. Right at this moment I have been moved to the lovely rate of 68% chance of making it through alive. All I want to do is live. My family wants me to live. My friends want me to live. People I have never met and yet they are praying for me want me to live. As far as I'm concerned: I have a 100% chance or a 0% chance. All the numbers the doctors keep throwing around are a pure waste of my time.

Today I took my first real step on my journey. I cut my hair off. It was a horrible painful thing for me to do. I cried. I cried because I cut my hair! How sad is that? But I'm determined to find the good with every step I take. Today someone will get 24 inches of the most beautiful hair in allllllllllllllllllllllllll the world. My awesome, wonderful and beautiful friend Robyn sent me this Bible verse today: 2 Kings 2:23-24:

23 From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some youths came out of the town and jeered at him. "Go on up, you baldhead!" they said. "Go on up, you baldhead!" 24 He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the LORD. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.

When Robyn sent that verse, I was in the process of getting my hair cut. I told no one I was going to cut my hair today. I wasn't sure I could go through with it and didn't want people asking me about it if I ended up chickening out. (I feel that way about going on a diet, too. If you tell people you are going to do something and then you don't do it, someone might laugh - or mention it in their blog. I personally don't know anyone like that, but I've heard they are out there. Those people are bad, but you must love them anyway.)

I know God is looking out for me - even for something as simple as a haircut. My haircut had to be done and I am now not even slightly upset about it. Thank you, God.

And to you, Robyn, I promise to never tell anyone of your random act of kindness. (By the way, if anyone hasn't read Rob's comment to me under the "Perhaps I was too hasty" entry, I highly recommend you do. Things are so much clearer now.)

Prayer Works

2009-02-01T23:36:00.001-06:00

So much for taking the night off.

I decided yesterday to take today off from the blog since there wasn't going to be anything more to report until tomorrow. Turns out I was wrong. And I was bored. And I had a nightmare, so I was having a tough time going back to sleep.

First and foremost, I realized I had forgotten to share a very uplifting story about how God has guided us when we needed Him. There is that saying that goes: "be careful what you ask for, you just might get it." We turned to God and He gave us the answer we needed, but not necessarily what I wanted to hear.

As y'all know, my oncologist first recommended the best course of treatment for me would be a simple lumpectomy followed up with a pretty mild chemotherapy (she said I wouldn't even lose my hair) and radiation. Tom and I were both bothered a little, because this seemed an extremely unaggressive approach to what I know to be a very aggressive cancer. Tom asked Dr Young flat out, if I were her sister - would it cause her to change her treatment plan. She, of course, said no. But! We had the option to go ahead and have my left breast completely removed or both - should I worry about the cancer ever returning. What a choice.

My very emotional choice was to find a new oncologist, which we were unable to do. I had decided I was scared and I couldn't risk the cancer ever returning therefore I was going to have a double mastectomy. Tom told me to really think and pray about the doctor's opinion and advice. Of course this upset me! I was already getting the poster boards out for picket signs. My plan was to march around the hospital with a sign that said, "Dr Young doesn't care about Sheri's cancer." Now I had to add, "and neither does Tom." (I was never really going to do that, you know, right? That is a huge hospital, and I'm very lazy.) I did give Tom and the doctor the silent treatment - the doctor didn't notice and I think Tom enjoyed it.

Anyway! We decided the best thing we could do was to turn this decision over to The Lord. Tom and I prayed together and told God that we were leaving this up to Him to give us the answer for which we were searching. The next day is when I got the call from my favorite person Donna telling me it appeared that I have cancer in both breasts. I know God's watching out for me and guiding me - I just have to remember to ask Him to lead instead of the doctors.

AND secondly: After much prayer, it has been decided that I will be cancelling the two tests I have scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I had been praying to decide if I really needed the tests. The two scans were going to cause me to be at the hospital all afternoon, which meant Tom had to miss more work, and we had to make special arrangements for the kids. Something inside me kept telling me I didn't need those tests. I finally told Tom my concerns, which is when he confessed to having the same thoughts, too. We prayed together and feel very much at peace with this decision.

What's Normal?

2009-01-31T21:37:00.000-06:00

Nothing much going on today. I'd love nothing more than to keep my life moving on as usual until the treatments begin. I've tried to make a list of things I want to get done before before the surgery, but all I can think to do is eat cheesecake and take naps.

Truth be told, I'm so consumed with this cancer stuff that I'm neglecting my daily chores around the house. I wish I could figure out how to keep life moving as normal. Don't get me wrong - there are a lot of pluses to sitting around feeling sorry for yourself...people have no expectations for me and they don't say anything when I eat an entire cheesecake* in a single day.

*according to the st lukes cancer center, this is bad.

So here is my goal: stop whining, get up off my butt, clean my house, and get my life back to "normal" until I physically am unable to take care of my family.

I'm out until Monday night. Peace out, nice people.

Perhaps I Was Too Hasty

2009-01-30T21:40:00.001-06:00

Another day another doctor's appointment.

Today is the day I went back to see Dr Young. I misjudged her. No, really. Maybe I was in a better state of mind, or maybe it was the fact that I was in a room that didn't have this poster. Something about this poster really bothers me, but I've not yet figured it out.

Anyway, I was honest with Dr Young and told her how I felt about our first meeting. I didn't feel the need to go into detail. Mostly I just told her that I didn't walk out of her office feeling like she was with me on the Save Sheri From Cancer Train. Wooo! Wooo! (I just read that out loud to Tom and asked him if the 'wooo wooo' sounded stupid and his response was, "not for your writing." More than likely I should be offended, and yet I'm not.)

Dr Young and I discussed how I felt about her last treatment plan and that I didn't feel it was aggressive enough. She said that old treatment plan was off the table now. After last week's MRI results, it seems she's going to have to give aggressive a new meaning. We talked about how the breast center said that with cases like mine, the treatment plan is to give chemotherapy first, then surgery, then more chemo and top it all off with a lovely dose of radiation. I realize I've said all along that I want the most aggressive treatment possible to stay alive, but the idea of two rounds of chemo doesn't thrill me like you might think it would. What Dr Young decided was to make the decision pending the results of more tests.

Yay. Flippin yay. More cancer tests.

Monday I have to be back at the hospital for a CT scan and a bone scan. Should both those tests come back without any sign of cancer, it will be business as usual. I'm not really sure what business as usual is now. I have an appointment with my wonderful surgeon on Tuesday, who will have the results of my Monday scan tests (riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight! because there is no way they won't be ready in time.) Pray, pray, pray, pray those test return without any problems! With no more cancer lurking in my body beyond the breast area, I believe my surgery will actually go as planned on Feb. 12.

MRI finding - or the thing they lied to me about after the first surgery...

The 1.6 cm tumor that they removed from my left breast during the last surgery, is actually over 2 cm in size. I mean - it's a more than 2 cm large tumor, but they missed getting out quite a bit of it...all they actually removed was 1.6 cm. Due to the amount of said tumor still hangin out in my breast, I got to be kicked up from a stage 1b triple negative breast cancer to a stage 2 n1 triple negative. And I qualify for Dr Young's clinic trial! Yessss! I am very happy about that. Dr Young rocks! I've always thought so, and those of you who doubted her doctoring ability should just be ashamed of yourselves.

Because of this leap up in the cancer stage and the increased size of the tumor and the cancer in one or more lymph nodes.... I am going to get three different types of chemotherapy medications. What she said they usually do is they will combine two of the meds for a few months or so then start the third med after that. This has less stress on you body. Much less chance of wicked side effects. The worst way to give them is all three at one time. You guessed it. Of course. I get em all at once. The good doctor explained that the three combined would destroy the veins in my arms so they will have to put a shunt in my chest at the same time of my mastectomy.

Blah.

Anyway, here's praying this next tests don't show anymore cancer. Cancer sucks and stuff.

Added comment:

To my sister Abby: you married my brother, but I think of you more as my sister than my sister-in-law. If you ever do again what you did today and NOT tell me about it because you think I've got too much going on in my life...I will start calling you "some girl who buys me stuff", because I'm not going to let you stop buying me stuff just because I'm upset with you. It would be wrong to hurt you like that.

Choices

2009-01-29T16:50:00.000-06:00

I'm tired today.

We all get tired, but today seems to be more so than normal for me. I'm absolutely overwhelmed with all the choices I'm expected to make. Choices that affect my life. Choices that not only affects my life either, but the lives of my family - my children. If anything were to happen to me who would teach my children sarcasm?

I need to find the right doctor for me. All could think about today was: find a doctor; do it now, but make sure he is great; it's literally a matter of life or death; is there any doctor out there that wants me to live as much as I want me to live? How do I find him? How do i find him NOW?

In my breast and lymph nodes I have very aggressive cancer. It consumes my thoughts. Everyday I sit and learn more about this stupid disease. A disease that wants nothing more than to take my life from me. The cancer center is preparing me for what to expect, but they aren't really doing anything. The cancer is growing. I've no idea how fast it's growing, but I know it is.

When I was a little girl, my brother and I found some sort of ivy plant growing along the fence in our backyard. We thought it was kinda interesting looking. We had our mom come outside to look at our newly discovered weird plant. Mom agreed that it was unusual and we dug it up so we could replant it in our pretty flower bed. This ivy plant or whatever it was grew quickly and in just a few days had taken over the flowerbed. It was wrapping its self around the pretty flowers and killing them. We dug it up and pulled out the dead flowers, but it would return. I remember thinking that we should have pulled it out the moment we saw what it was doing, but we waited too long.

I look at my cancer like that weed - planting it's roots and growing - killing everything it touches. It needs to come out now. Everyday that goes by is another day that it grows stronger - attempting to do it's soul purpose for being inside me: to kill me. I'm tired of obsessing about it. I'm tired of waiting for someone to do something. I'm tired. I'm so tired I can't stand it.

So, here are my choices: the only oncologist I can get in to see right away is the lovely Dr Young, whom I've not been happy with. I'm able to see her tomorrow morning. Or I wait. Wednesday I can see a doctor that Vickie said she thought was good, or I wait til Jan 10th to finally see the one doctor that was recommended highly by many people. I can't wait. I'll see Dr Young tomorrow.

Tonight I want desperately to sleep. I want 15 seconds that the word cancer isn't in my mind. Even when I am able to sleep, I dream about that evil disease.

So here is what I ask of you my wonderful family and friends: help me, please. Pray for me. Pray with me. Pray I am able to find peace until my treatments finally begins. I just can't do this alone. Please, help me. I'm scared.

Thankful

2009-01-28T17:46:00.000-06:00

I am in awe right now.

Today I spent from 9:30am - 3:00pm at the cancer center learning about cancer stuff. Things I learned today: the side effects of radiation suck, but aren't nearly as bad as the side effects of chemo; I have to buy my wig before I start chemotherapy; I have a short attention span when people talk to me for long periods of time; I have the start of a hangnail on my left thumb; it is extremely important that I watch what I eat, because breast cancer is the only cancer you get that causes you to GAIN weight (insert curse word here); I look GOOOOOOD in those cancer hats; I look like Aunt Jamima in the cancer scarves; when they tell you that there is now a medicine that keeps you from being sick during chemo - it only keeps some women from getting sick; the cancer center needs to find a new woman to share with me her survival story, because the one I had to talk to today sucked the life out of me (more on this later); I have so many praying for me that I'm speechless (Tom says to say thanks.)

Wow. I can't think of a better word than wow. When I was first diagnosed, I started getting emails from family and friends. Each day that went by my prognosis got worse and the emails increased. You may not believe this, but I've not been sleeping well the last couple of weeks - some stuff on my mind kinda keeping me from getting the 12 - 14 hours a night that a normal stay-at-home mom gets. Since I'm not sleeping, I wait til the family goes to bed to update my blog and return emails. Last night I was up until after 4am returning emails (if you were the one that received the email at 4:00, it doesn't mean I love you the least...I'm answering them in the order I receive them...as far as you know anyway.) Today when I got home I had over 50 emails, and only a very few of them were trying to sell me Viagra. (I wonder if the people from my church who are reading this will find that funny.)

I read this from an article written in Science Daily:

Triple negative breast cancer is a highly aggressive form which comprises 10-15 percent of newly diagnosed early stage breast cancer. Most triple negative tumors are high grade and have a high incidence of recurrence and metastases (spreading to other organs). Unlike other types of breast cancer, there is no standard follow-up treatment for triple negative breast cancer to prevent recurrence.

I can't spend the rest of my life sitting around worrying. I will never fully understand why God gave me this disease, but I do believe everything happens for a reason. God gave me cancer, but I also believe very strongly in the power of prayer. Whatever the path God decides I shall take, I know I'm not taking it alone. The surgery, the chemo, the radiation, is mine to go through...but somehow it's a little easier knowing there are so many, many, many people who are praying for me along the way.

"So then, those who suffer according to God's will should entrust their souls to their faithful Creator and continue to do what is good." 1 Peter 4:19

God, family, friends and a sense of humor will get me through this.

So here is a shout out to all mah peeps! I'll keep you abreast. Werd.

I'm sorry to say, sadly, that I'm too exhausted to tell the story of the cancer survivor lady, nor am I able to return emails tonight. I've taken a neat pill that is causing me to feel very drugged and kinda gangsta. Peace out.

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

2009-01-27T14:41:00.000-06:00

Wonderful Vickie from St Luke's Breast Center called a couple hours ago to inform me that my MRI report was in. She had a happy voice! A flood of relief washed through me. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath waiting for the results of that tests; the test that will tell me if I have cancer anywhere else in my body. Vickie had a happy voice. "Hi Sheri, I just wanted to let you know that your MRI report was in!" I could see her smiling. "I've not seen it myself, but I know it's here. Donna will be calling you with the results the first chance she gets!"

I start crying. The waiting continues.

For those of you who have forgotten, Donna is the one that called to inform me I had breast cancer. I sure look forward to hearing her voice again. I know I've joked a lot throughout this blog, but there is absolutely no joking when I say that I hear Donna's voice in my head sometimes telling me again and again that I have cancer. I wanted to know the results of my MRI, but I didn't want to hear them from Donna.

"Hi, Sheri, it's Donna, I was the one that had to call you last time, too." That voice, that tone, oh God, it's exactly the same as the last time she called. I start trembling before she even says another word. "I'm so sorry I have to call you with this, but your doctors are out of town."

"Just tell me."

"Well, Sheri, to be honest, it's not good. Your scan shows 4 additional areas in your right breast and it appears you do have cancer in two of your lymph nodes on the left side."

"I need you to stop now, I'm sorry." This time I'm alone in the house and I have no choice but to listen to the report. Appointments need to be made quickly now. The planned surgery for the 12th is off. Everything has suddenly been kicked into overdrive. "Ok" I ask her, "just how bad is this?"

"That's not something I can tell you. You'll have to discuss the fine details with your surgeon and oncologist." "I hate my oncologist." I tell her. She let me vent about how much I didn't like Dr. Young. I explained that I was trying to get a new oncologist, but so far that wasn't going well. Donna told me to find someone quickly, and whoever I find I better be happy with them, because I'm going to be seeing them a lot.

Before I hung up the phone with Donna, I asked her to never call me again. She said she didn't want to call me anymore either. Well, that was rude of her to say.

Time for more tears. I sat in my chair with my head in my hands crying until I could hardly breathe. I felt like a kid playing dodge ball: alone on my side, and the other team still has all 50 people remaining, and they're all holding a ball... and looking at me. I felt completely helpless with nowhere to run. My family and friends are all in the stands looking down at me, watching me slowly getting slammed with one ball after another. There is nothing they can do to help me. They have to watch as I start to pick myself up, only to see me turn around and get hit even harder. Unfortunately I can't quit either. My only option is to stand there and attempt to endure each jolt that is thrown my way.

I have to compose myself before I start the phone calls. As always, as soon as I start talking the tears begin to flow. Crap. After calling Tom and my parents, I decide I need to talk to someone else about that report. Poor Vickie. I know I'm driving her crazy, but I call her anyway to see if she has anything else to say about this latest information. She did.

Vickie hadn't seen my MRI report yet, so I told her what Donna told me. Vickie said I was very limited on time now with finding a new oncologist. She told me that what is usually the case was the surgeon decides to hold off on surgery and I will have to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. Because it appears now that both my breasts have cancer and it has spread to my lymph nodes, they can't be positive it isn't spreading elsewhere. Right now the main focus is to kill it with heavy blasts of chemo and then I will be scheduled for a double mastectomy, followed by more chemotherapy and possibly radiation. Awesome. Glad I called. I'm going to have to ask that Vickie no longer be allowed to touch the dodge balls.

Another Day With Crappy News

2009-01-26T22:42:00.000-06:00

Before I begin........

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

That took a lot of effort on my part to mention anyone else in MY blog. It dang well better be appreciated.

Anyone who has gotten to know me over the last week or so (or hasn't gotten to know be, but has had the misfortune to pass me on the street or dial my number by mistake or deliver my mail) knows how very unhappy I've become with my doctors. It seems people come out of the woodwork with stories on how their great aunt Edna used to hang for 12 hours upside down on a clothesline until her cancer disappeared. And they also love to tell you the name of the oncologist that their mother/father/brother/neighbor used to cure their cancer. I'm interested in the names of the doctors given to me...you know, just in case my doctor.. oh, I dunno, gets killed by a pride of hungry lions while in Africa. That really could happen, you know. Honestly, it's probably a less than 10 percent chance that my doctor will get eaten by a lion while in Africa. She should be ok.

Anyway! A name that keeps getting mentioned time and time again is Dr. Lee, who happens to be right down the road from me. As far as I'm concerned, enough is enough with those other doctors and I'm going to see Dr. Lee, if for no other reason than to get a second opinion. It was a major production to get that office visit set up and have my files faxed over to him. In the midst of it all Allison reminds me that she needs her Abraham Lincoln costume finished up by Friday. The one I hadn't started sewing yet? Oh nooooooooooooooooooo!

Once again I'm on the verge of another melt down and it's Tom to the rescue. He's helping with homework, reading to the kids a book called "My Mom Has Cancer", cooking a chicken I planned to make for dinner but didnt, finishing the arrangements for my new doctor's appointment and ordering Allison an Abe Lincoln costume off the internet. He finally gets the costume ordered and informs me that a couple of calls beeped in while he was on the phone but he didn't click over. Those calls I had been waiting for all day. Every Monday the surgery and oncologist doctors (who aren't off frolicking in Africa) have a meeting and talk about newly diagnosed cancer patients. They decide what they believe is the best course of action for each new patient to take.

Since my doctors were both out of town (being eaten by lions, I'm sure), a wonderful woman named Vickie promised to attend then call me to tell me what they said about me. Vickie tried to call while Tom was on the phone. Tom did not click over. It was important to me to find out what they said. I was livid! How dare he not click over? I have cancer! I could fall over dead right now and he wouldn't care! He doesn't care at all about my plight! All Tom cared about was getting Allison that costume that I completely forgot to make because I've been totally wrapped up in my own self. It took Vickie almost 5 whole minutes to return my call after I left her a message. Let us all give Tom horrible looks the next time we see him. He's a bad man. Good grief. Have I always been this self absorbed?

Vickie told me the doctors studied my case and found it unusual (and thought I was the most beautiful woman in alllll the land...she didn't say that last part, it was just understood.) They had received another test result that we had been waiting on and it, of course, came back less than great. I'm starting to get numb to this crap now. What was interesting was the doctors thought I was a great candidate for one of the oncologists in their group's clinical studies. One of the doctor's is doing a study on unusual cases of triple negative breast cancer. I perked up! I wouldn't mind people studying me. Where do I sign up?

Vickie said she'll make some calls and see what she can do to get the ball rolling, and oh, by the way, the name of the doctor doing this study is Kelley Young. Sigh. Vic, baby, check my charts, sunshine...do you see the name listed there as my oncologist? PAUSEEEE. "Well, I show it's Dr. Kelley Young. How long has it been since you've seen her?" FRIDAY! This past freakin Friday!

It seems this clinical study that Dr Young is doing on unusual cases of triple negative breast cancer patients didn't need me; her own patient. Heaven only knows why she didn't want me. Maybe I was too pretty? Maybe she was jealous of the very cool tennis shoes I was wearing that day? Maybe she was grossed out because the whole time I was in her office crying I was using the sleeve of my t-shirt to wipe my nose? Who's to know? I do know one thing right now - if she were to beg me and pay me money and buy me a new car to just to join her clinical trial... I totally would.

Looks Like It's Something

2009-01-25T21:34:00.000-06:00

Part IV

Recovering from the lump removal was longer than I expected. The doctor told me I would be sore the day of the surgery and the following day, after that I should start feeling much better. What a freakin liar. I hurt! My entire breast was swollen about 5 times it's normal size, while turning a stunning shade of red and purple. But, all in all, I was dealing with the pain better than I normally would have, because I had the knowledge that the lump removed was nothing. Finally that mess was over. I recover quickly with only a scar to remind me of everything I just went through.

Don't we all know by now this actually turned out to be something? That phone call will be forever ingrained into my mind: "Mrs. Strickland, this is Donna at St Luke's Breast Center and (pause) I'm sorry (pause) we found some cancer cells in your biopsy." She went on talking, but I didn't hear another word. I repeated back to her the word 'cancer'. It was all I could do to keep hold of the phone, but she kept talking. I told her to stop, please, give me a second to process that. Tom was sitting across the room from me and I saw his face turn white and his head drop down to his chest. It was the middle of the day on weekday and I was so thankful to God that Tom was there. I explained to the woman that I couldn't think and didn't understand anything she was saying. I handed the phone over to Tom and walked out of the room.

When I left the room, I started crying. Then I started processing exactly what I heard: "some" cancer cells. That didn't sound so bad. Kinda like: "good job cleaning the entire house, but I found 'some' dirt on the floor, take another 5 minutes to clean that up." Some? How bad could that be? They told me the spot was about 7 mm and in that they found "some" cancer cells. What are we talking here? 4 or 5 cancer cells total? The more I thought about it, the calmer I got. Just a few days ago I got skin cancer blasted off my arm. "Some" cancer cells on my skin. Fine! It's cancer, but it's NOTHING cancer. Pffft. I'm going to be ok.

Monday, January 19, 2009. That's the day I will never forget. Back to the breast center. There was a nonstop flow of women coming in and out of my little patient room. It seemed like they were all talking at once. They filled an entire canvas bag of books and papers about breast cancer awareness, support groups, how to cope, when to cry, what to eat, books for my children to read, etc, etc, etc. Slow down, people! I don't have breast cancer. I have a blip of some sort. Five cancer cells maybe. Come on! That's not breast cancer. Is it? Women die from breast cancer. There is absolutely no way I have that.

The surgeon came in at some point to explain what she extracted during the surgery. She said the tumor was a little under 2 cm big. Tumor? Did she just say tumor?

Processing that...

Ok, it was a tumor. They knew going into surgery something was there, but not what it was exactly. Fine, it's a tumor. The room is full of noise and talking . So many people around me, but all I can do is process one word at a time. I have a tumor. NO! I HAD a tumor. She removed the tumor that was almost 2 cm large.

Processing that...

WAIT! How big? I asked her why they told me it was tiny tiny tiny, but wasn't wasn't wasn't wasn't. She explained that when she extracted it from me, it didn't look like a tumor. It was a jagged and odd looking mass. (I'm sure her tumors are stupid looking too, but I would never call them names as she just did mine.)

I think I held it together, for the most part while I was there. Most of it was a blur. I felt pretty detached from everything everyone was talking about because what they were talking about, I did not have. The surgeon told me she removed my tumor. If she needed to go back in and root around in that area to insure she got everything...ok by me! And then we'll be done, right?

Did I just hear the word radiation? They are talking about chemotherapy now. NO! I don't have breast cancer. "SOME" cancer cells. That's what she said. Who get chemo and radiation when they only have "some" cancer cells? I don't have breast cancer! I have something like skin cancer, but inside my body. They removed them. I promise to stay out of the sun and eat less red meat and whatever else it takes. This is crazy. Stop talking to me like I have breast cancer. I'm only 39 years old!

When I asked the surgeon if she was sure, she didn't answer, she hugged me. Oh God. How dare she hug me? I suddenly got very angry with this woman. I asked her why she told me when I was in recovery that the tumor looked like nothing? I was raising my voice now. I told her that surgeons are supposed to be able to tell when it's cancer! My voice getting even louder as I reminded her that she said it wasn't! I was screaming when I asked: Why didn't she warn me!?

They really are saying I have this. I broke down completely right then. What they were saying hit me between the eyes; they were seriously saying I have a disease that kills thousands of women each year. My surgeon seemed to be able to read my mind and told me exactly what I wanted to hear: Sheri, you're not going to die from this. I'm not? Saa weet! Those were the words I wanted to hear and it calmed me down.

Now it was the time to go over my pathology report. Everything thing sounded A-ok to me.

Most common type of breast cancer (check!)!

Most studied (check!)!

Caught early (check!)!

Aggressive level 2 (chee.. whaaa?)

Not a huge deal, she explains! Three is as high as it goes and I'm smack dab in the middle. Sooooo.. (check??)

Tested negative for Her2, estrogen and progesterone hormones *no clue what any of that means, but negative sounds like a good thing to me* (check!)

Hold on there, Little Buckaroo. Uncheck that please. Cancer needs one or all of those to feed it, to make it grow - that way all the doctors have to do is give the woman a hormone blocker and TA DA. I had cancer that is being fed and is growing by some unknown force. Because they don't know what's making this grow, they can't give any type of hormone blocking medicine.

My cancer is called triple negative. It is aggressive and rare. While it has been discovered that chemotherapy works wonders to rid your body of this. Sadly, it has an extremely high chance of showing up somewhere else in your body years later.

This is the point where I've been asked to decide what to do. Do I want them to go back in, check the lymph nodes and do another sweep around the area where the tumor was? Do I want one breast removed? Do I want them both removed?

What I want is what is best for my children and family: to stay alive. I will do whatever it takes. I'm just not sure what it is right now.

Surgery On Nothing

2009-01-24T18:51:00.000-06:00

Part III

Christmas came and went without much worry. In fact, I had pretty much forgotten about that silly lump until January 5, 2009. This was the day of my scheduled biopsy. The last appointment of the day and they had to squeeze (hee!) me in at 5:00 that evening. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I wasn't nervous either. At this point I had forgotten about the whole use of the cancer word and was doing nothing more than following doctor's orders to double check that it was nothing, just as he had asked.

It was after 6:00 before the doctor had a chance to see me. I was grumpy and just wanted the needle in the lump, a little band aid put on my breast and be sent out the door. Of course it didn't happen that way. Of course there was a mix up somewhere. Someone, somewhere, somehow didn't contact me to let me know there was to be no biopsy. Heavens no! My charts were sent to this surgeon and upon viewing them decided she wasn't doing a biopsy...she was removing the lump completely. Surgery. My appointment with her was purely as a consult. By now none of this lump thing had gone as planned and I shouldn't have been surprised, yet I was. I almost fell off the table. Surgery? Removing the lump? A lumpectomy? You woulda thought someone would have called to inform ME about this change in plans. She asked if I had any questions. Uhhhhhhhhhhh....I don't know. I was caught off guard and couldn't think of anything to ask. So, ok, looks like today I wasn't having a biopsy, instead I'll just let you cut my breast open on January 12th.

Oh, encouraging news! While I was there she decided to give me a breast exam and couldn't feel any lump anywhere. Whew. But let's go ahead and remove that tiny little something that was found on the mammogram just to be safe. It'll be nothing. She explained what the basic lumpectomy entailed. I thought she was kidding. Oh, for heaven's sake! This tiny little nothing has done nothing but give me problems since the day I first found out about it.

Between the time I found out about the surgery and the day of the surgery, I got crankier and crankier. It had nothing to do with me being worried about having cancer; I don't like having surgery. I've had so many surgeries in my life that the idea of one more got me in a real bad mood. I was going to be glad to be rid of this little nothing, because it was starting to become a serious pain in my butt.

January 12, 2009: Surgery Day

My surgeon was getting ready to leave for Africa for 3 weeks - due to this I was unable to have my surgery in a hospital close to my house. All her appointments before she left the country were at St Luke's Hospital in beautiful downtown Kansas City, MO. Crap. I had to be at the breast center attached to that hospital by 7am. Sure hope we don't get lost. Of Course we did! By the time we made it into the breast center I was in one majorly foul mood.

I don't know about you, but when I'm in a wicked bad mood, there's nothing I like better than to sit down and fill out 200 pages of paperwork. It doesn't matter that I already filled out all those exact paper at the St Luke's breast center by my house. Fill em out again! FINE! But I wasn't going to smile or write clearly.

Time ticked on while they went through checking insurance and putting my information into the system. I was pacing the waiting room for a couple of reasons: one being that I was allergic to the room and didn't want to sit on anything, and the other reason was that they had told me what they were going to do to me before they put me to sleep for the lumpectomy and it sounded bad. A very nice woman showed up in the waiting room and started chatting with me. She was able to figure out that I was on edge and offered to give me a relaxing massage. Yeah, whatever, but I'm not paying ya. She rubbed my back slowly, pushing on my shoulder blades one at a time. I liked it. I totally should have exchanged numbers with her.

"Mrs Strickland, come on down! You're the next patient to have a wire shoved into her breast with almost no numbing done first!" Woo! I had to lie on my stomach with my boobs hanging out below me. X-rays were done, a radiologist was called in - without a word to me, he gave me a shot in my breast then quickly shoved in a wire that was about the size of the lead of a pencil. His work there was done so he left. He was so nice. Someday I hope to see him out in public so I can return the favor by shoving objects into his sensitive areas then just quickly walking away. I'm certain he'll enjoy it as much as I did.

There is now about 8 inches of wire protruding from my breast, soooo... must be surgery time! In my little hospital gown and socks, they walk me into the actual hospital where I will be having my stupid, little, nothing lump removed. Yippy.

The whole thing was extremely quick. I was in and out of surgery, bandaged up, then sent home in just a matter of a few hours. One thing I remember quite vividly was waking in recovery and asking if the lump looked like it might be cancerous. NOOOPE. It looked like nothing. Awesome. Thank you! And if you could get me out of here as quickly as possible I would appreciate it soooo much, as you can tell, I seem to be allergic to your little room here and I'm turning into one big hive rash.

Before I had my surgery, I was told by countless people that this is what the surgeon does. This is her job. She's done this so many times that, just by eyeballing it, she can usually tell if the object removed is cancerous. When she said it looked like nothing, I gotta tell ya, I was happy. I was finally done with that mess. The only thing left was the formality of the phone call telling me it wasn't cancer. It was nothing. They assured me it was nothing. I wasn't too overly worried.

Continued on Part IV

MRI Day

2009-01-23T19:50:00.000-06:00

January 23, 2009

The story on how I got to this point is on hold. Sorry about jumping around, but my mood today is at an all time low and trying to focus on the details of how I got here are seemingly impossible.

This is going to sound so depressing and I'm sure a few of you will laugh, but today was the day it finally hit me. I have breast cancer. YES! I know! I've been writing this silly blog because I have breast cancer. But those were just words that some doctor told me and in my head they were wrong. I didn't have cancer. I couldn't. It wasn't right. How the HELL could this be going on?

No, no, no, no, NO! The phone was going to ring and someone was going to tell me this was wrong. The tests were wrong. I just knew it. Someone was going to call. Please, God, please, let someone call me and tell me this was just a mistake. Oh, God, please.

Today was the day I finally had to give up hope. Today I had my MRI and spoke to my oncologist. She sat down and calmly flipped through my chart while talking about all my options. I was listening, but not really. I was waiting for her to hit that page that would show her that there was an error on the report. Instead she kept talking and pointing up at poster on the wall of a woman who had the insides of her breasts showing.

All I needed today was one small shining glimmer of hope to keep me going. All I got were the options I had ahead of me: remove the lump, remove the breast, remove both breasts, radiation, chemotherapy, how much chemotherapy, how much hair will fall out, and on and on and on. Inside my head I was screaming for her to shut up! This was so wrong. How could I see this, but no one else could? I feel fine! Why do people keep telling me I have this disease that could kill me when I don't feel sick at all? This doesn't make sense.

She stops talking and asks me a question regarding one of my horrible options and that was my opportunity to ask her, to plead to her: double check for me? Isn't it possible my healthy tumor got switched with someone else's? I mean, heck, it happens with babies! I was crying. Again. And she said no. No. It was my tumor. I have cancer. My tumor showed cancer cells. And she didn't freakin know why.

Why won't someone tell me why? I'm not asking "why me?". Honestly, I get that people get sick and I'm no better than anyone else. I want to know what caused this damn thing to grow in my breast. I want to know why I can't wake up from this nightmare. Women much older than me get breast cancer. Women with a long family history of breast cancer. Women who didn't have MY two small, beautiful children.

I was ready to run from this office as I did the first one. She started with the numbers; the percentages. Don't give me that crap again. How could you possibly think I want you to tell me how high my survival rate is when you are the same people who told me that it was a less than 10 percent chance of being cancer in the first place? How dare you look me in the eye now and tell me that I have an 86 percent survival rate before you even start the chemo - and heck, add the chemo to it so I can give myself another 7 percent.

All you doctors have done so far is lie to me and give me false hope. Excuse me if i choose not to jump up and hug you for HOPEFULLY saving my life from a cancer that was SUPPOSED to be nothing in the first place. I'll let you remove my breasts and I'll let you pump my body full of poison - so much so that my hair starts to fall out. But know this: my life is in God's hands. Your words and your numbers are meaningless to me.

You Have To Relax! It's Nothing!

2009-01-22T19:31:00.000-06:00

Part II

I've left the breast clinic and I'm sitting in my car sobbing like an idiot. I remember looking up and seeing a woman walk by and stare in at me. Yeah, ok, I realized then it was time to pull myself together because I still had to drive home. Seemed silly to sit there crying hysterically about dying from cancer only to drive off a cliff while trying to get home. (If there are cliffs in Kansas City... I've not seen any, but I've been pretty wrapped up in myself lately. I promise to check on that and get back to you.)

I'm trying desperately to pull it together while I drive home, but by that time I had a throbbing headache and was shaking like a leaf. I'm not sure how long I was at the breast clinic, but it was many hours and I probably needed food. And there she sat! McDonald's! Yes! As I drove through the drive thru, I could smell the food and it made me want to throw up. I ended up ordering one of those ice coffees they have there. Hazelnut. Tasty. Crap! Both cup holders were full! Son of a ... my phone started ringing! And there I was sitting in my car in the McDonald's drive thru, trembling, nowhere to put my coffee, unable to answer my cell phone (AND WHY THE HECK DID I PICK THAT SONG FOR THE RING TONE?) Oh great, now snot is coming out of my nose! All the while some punk McDonald employee is staring at me. And I cry harder.

I'm not sure how, but I managed to make it home. It was Christmas vacation and Tom had been watching the kids while I was gone. Of course all the kids in the neighborhood had to be at my house when I pull up. Sledding and snowman building got put on hold when the crazy woman pulls up in the driveway. Jacob came running up to me, but I had to just shoo him away from me because I was unable to speak. Unbeknownst to me, Jacob ran off crying and told my neighbor that his mommy was dying of cancer. She made me pumpkin bread (which is what you do when someone is dying.)

I made it into the house dragging behind me my purse, phone, coat, and stupid freakin coffee. Tom looked up from the computer and asked me EXACTLY what the doctor had said. I had to think. He said he found a 7 cm mass on my left breast and he thought it was cancer. Yep, that's what he said. I explained that I was extremely upset and went running out of the building, so I didn't know what I was supposed to do next. I could tell he was trying to be compassionate, yet wanting to shake me for more information. Meanwhile...the phone would not stopped ringing. Right at this minute, I can't remember if my dad was with my grandparents or if he was in Texas at the time. I know he wasn't in Florida. And I know he wasn't with me.

I'm not sure who all called that day, but I refused to talk to anyone. Poor Tom had to answer each call and relay to them the small amount of information he had been given by me. He finally got so tired of it all that he told me to get him the name of the breast clinic and the name of the radiologist that saw me. Seriously, Tom? I could barely order coffee from McDonald's. Do you know what you are asking me? Somehow, someway, he found out where I had been and was able to call them.

It went a little somthing like this: "Uh, yeah, my wife is Sheri Strickland, I believe she was just there and went running out very upset. She wasn't sure if there was more she was supposed to do or schedule. She's still very upset. So upset, in fact, I'm unable to get any real information out of her. She can't remember the name of the radiologist, but said he was a short guy with a British accent."
"Hey, Sheri, does Dr. McDonald sound right?"
"I have coffee from McDonald's."
"Helpful. Thanks."
Back to the receptionist: "yeah, that sounds like it's probably who it was. You think I could leave him a message or something? He's available? Sure, I'll talk to him!"
"Sheri, he's putting him on the phone. You want to talk to him?"
"He said I have cancer." Hysterical crying continues.
"Ok then."

It was a very long conversation, and I will admit, I was curious when Tom got off the phone. Curious and a little, tiny, ity, bit afraid. Of Tom. Something told me the information I had gathered was a bit off. It was. It seemed that Dr McDonald remembered me well. He remembered that it took several tries to even find the spot on my sonogram. That's how small it was. He said it wasn't 7 cm, but 7 mm. I do not have a ruler handy, but I hear there is quite the difference between those two numbers.

The good doctor informed Tom that he told me in ever way possible that he did not believe it was cancer. He said he explained to me that there were a million different possibilities and on the bottom of that list was cancer. But his best guess? It's not cancer. Noooope. He said the only reason he recommended me even getting it checked out was because I was a mother of two little children. If I had been a 70 year old woman, he wouldn't have even bothered mentioning it. He explained that I should enjoy the holidays and sometime after that I might want to think about having it biopsied. More than 90 percent chance it was nothing. Take it easy, relax, enjoy the holidays. It's nothing.

Now I had to call all those people back to explain that I overreacted. Turns out, I tell them, it's probably nothing.

Continued on Part III

It's Nothing Really!

2009-01-22T13:48:00.000-06:00

Part I:

In October of this past year Tom, who works for the federal government, finds out he's going to be working in Kansas City, MO. We've been living in Topeka for 6 years and pretty much have developed a strong dislike for the entire city. Yay! We're leaving Topeka! I have a history of some pretty nasty medical problems, so in every way the move to the big city is a great idea. Better doctors and hospitals.

Priorities being what they are, I need to find new doctors as quickly as possible. My first stop shopping was with a specialty doctor who decided to do an over-all blood work test thing-a-do. He called me back in to let me know that he found a problem with my thyroid and while he could handle it, he didn't wanna. He recommended his own personal family doctor. So, cool, I figure he must be ok. I made the appointment, but as you know with any new doctor when you are a new patient it takes awhile before you're able to get in. I wasn't worried, not like a malfunctioning thyroid was going to kill me.

December 18, 2008. That's the day everything began to unravel. I went to see my new doctor, (who, by the way, was WONDERFUL) and there was a problem with the original thyroid test not being sent over. Should I wait? Should I just get new ones? It was decided that since there was an ice storm rolling in that afternoon, I should just go across the hall and have the blood work redone. But hey! While I was there and he had no charts to look at, he might as well give me a full physical. He found a tiny spot of skin cancer on my arm and got out what I think was a blow torch of dry ice to spray on it. Thanks! That was painful.

Then he did my breast exam. I remember he checked my right one first, I only remember this because he spent twice as long feeling up my left one. For all I knew, he was just enjoying the moment. Can you blame him? I'm a lovely woman. He left the room and as soon as I was redressed he returned with two sheets of paper. One for my blood work and the other he told me to take to the breast center right across the street, or he said, I could call, but do it as soon as possible. That's pretty much all he said. He said nothing about how he might have felt something in my breast. I was just told it was time I got my first mammogram.

What the heck, it's a crappy day and I have nothing else to do, I'll run over across the street to set up the appointment. Nice place. Nice people. Full waiting room. I explain to the lovely woman behind the desk that my doctor just gave me this paper and told me to set up an appointment. She asked my age and when I told her 39, she explained that women don't typically get their first mammogram until they are 40. Fine by me! I handed her the sheet anyway. Lovely lady looked at my paper, looked back up and at me and said she could get me in right now.

Now wait! I had a thyroid problem and a couple hours later I'm getting my boobies squished in some machines? What the heck? The woman who gave me my mammogram was very nice. She talked about her grand babies. A lot. SERIOUSLY. A lot. Anyhooo, she told me all that is done is they take two shots of each breast, send you home and you should expect a letter in the mail telling you everything is just fine. Unless it's not. Then they'll call you in a couple days. Of course she did nothing to calm my nerves when she decided my left breast needed more than two shots. Whatever! I went home to wait for my letter.

December 19, 2008: 8:00am. Phone ringing. "Mrs. Strickland, this is the breast center and the radiologist needs you to come in for further scans. What time today can you be here?"

"Are you even kidding me???"

Ok, I shower and off I go, in the snow, all alone, back to the breast center. It's nothing, I'm sure it's nothing. Women are always talking about how they have little lumps removed from their breast and it's always nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing. I know it's nothing.

I walk in and am ushered back into the little patient only waiting area. I'm stripped from the waist up, put on my little hospital gown AND fluffy white robe (which I was allergic to, so that sucked) and waited. They apologize repeatedly for making me wait, but they didn't have any appointments available and were squeezing (hee!) me in first chance they got. It's ok, I thought, because it's nothing. I hope. Please God let it be nothing.

Finally! Into the mammogram room where I get three more shots of my left boob. The nice lady explained that this time, it's going to hurt. They have to really squish down hard, because they are hoping it's just a shadow or crossed veins. By squishing it, they might be able to make the veins move or the shadow disappear. It didn't work. Mr English Radiologist Dude (Merd for short) comes in to examine the x-rays and tells her to take another from a different angle. Three times he came back and did this. Merd clearly had no idea that this was painful for me and the dang spot, shadow, blip or whatever wasn't going away! He orders a sonogram. Oh goody, she has to squeeze (hee!) me in today. They're so sorry about making me wait. No problem! I'm kinda sorta sure it's nothing. Maybe.

Finally times two! It's sonogram time! Woo! She was nice, too. I was watching the screen and I was able to focus in on what I was sure was the giant tumorous growth. I didn't notice that she was zooming in, over and over and over. By the time Merd came in, I was sure I had bowling ball sized tumor in my left breast. And THAT was something!

Here's what I kinda remember hearing: "we found something" "cancer", then that was followed by high pitched squeaking and what was surely words that sounded Latin. I couldn't take anymore. I had been there for hours and I was done. My emotions were shot. I remember starting to cry, standing up, getting dressed, and running out of the office. I had no idea if there was more I was supposed to do. If there were papers for me to sign. Appointments for me to schedule. I fell apart.

Part II tomorrow...