As Dictated by Allison Strickland

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

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

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

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???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

(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!

(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

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

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

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.