Staying in front of the pain...

Something they tell you to do after you have surgery is to try to stay in front of the pain. This means they want you to take a pain medication before the pain margin becomes too much for you to bear. This has always been a concept that eludes me though. I have a high threshold for pain. On a scale from 1 - 10 for most people who would be at a 8 or 9 I am usually at a 3 or 4. So it's hard for me to know what staying in front of the pain means, actually.

This pain I'm having since surgery is really kicking my ass though. I will admit that. I have had to take the pain meds which I hate but there's no getting around it. And I've been using my yoga breathing to get through the worst of it. But little by little I can feel some improvement each day.

I'm still waiting for the pathology results. The waiting sucks, I won't deny it. I hate waiting. I want to know what's next - either I am well and life goes on or I have more treatment and life goes on. Either way, I want to know which path is mine to take.

The other thing I have to do is inject myself twice a day with a blood thinner. Never thought I'd be sticking myself with needles but here I am, 9am and 9pm, without fail. Glad that's only temporary - it doesn't hurt but it isn't pleasant either.

I know that I am luckier than some who have been diagnosed with cancer. And I know that this could be just the beginning but I have to be positive that this is the worst it will be and once I get the results I will be on the way to better health.

I know for sure that I will not be sad to see the tail end of 2015. Three surgeries in one year...that's enough for me.

Getting thru it...

On Tuesday, I had surgery. I had a complete hysterectomy and they were going to remove my lymph nodes too but, in the end, decided against it. It turned out that my uterus was enlarged and filled with fibroid tumors. It took longer than expected to remove it and doing the node too would have added more time to the surgery and compromised my breathing. My doc is confident that she got all of the cancer but won't know for sure until tomorrow or Monday.

I am home and waiting. And in some pain. But so glad that ordeal is over. We will take these things as they come.

And we will get through.

I have cancer...

Yup, there...I've said it.

Last week,  I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. This came after about 8 months of unusual bleeding that would not stop. I had some tests, a PAP, a pelvic ultrasound, and later a D&C which was all sent for a biopsy and voila...uterine cancer.

The day before Thanksgiving I went to Froedtert Hospital and met with my "team" - an amazing group of specialist headed by Dr. Erin Bishop who will be treating me. I do back on Dec. 4 to get my pre-op work up done and meet my anesthetists and then on Dec. 8th I will have a complete hysterectomy and have my lymph nodes removed. Now, having said all that I will also say this - my cancer was caught very, very early. So early Dr. Bishop could not even give it a "stage". It is earlier than Stage 0 which means there are mostly precancerous cells and only a few cancerous cells noticeable. There is a very slight chance that the cancer could have spread but it's a very slight chance and if they find that it did I may have to have some radiation treatment. Dr. Bishop doesn't think that's going to be the case though.

I am optimistic. But, honestly, when you sit in a room and a doctor tells you that you have cancer your heart stops for a moment. Your brain shuts down. It's cancer. It's that unknown monster that somehow started growing inside you somewhere when you weren't paying attention and no one can really tell you how or why and if you hadn't found it it would have just kept growing and eating away at you until it was too late. You would be dead. Cancer, even when they catch it early, makes you think.

My cancer made me think that there is a lot of stuff I would rather be doing with my life. I think I have led a good life. I know that what I do for a living could be seen as something good - something that helps people. I feel good about that. But I'm also a bit selfishly tired of helping other people all the time. I have a dream to help animals. I know that sounds weird, but I do. I would love to foster animals or run a rescue or something, if I could. Maybe I never will, but it's a good dream. I also want to draw more. I love to draw...and I have been doing more. Little drawings, insignificant things just for me. There's something soothing about watching a black line of ink connect onto itself and wander around a blank page until it forms into something interesting and wonderful. I love that.

I know that I'll be fine and get through this health bump in the road in no time. Cancer is not my end. Just my detour...and maybe the wake up to something different for me. Who knows!

How sometimes things just hit home...

So, those who know me know that since January 1st I've been raising money for the St. Baldrick's Foundation. It's a well known foundation that provide grant money for much needed kids cancer research. Their unique way to raise money is to get people to agree to get their heads shaved bald, as the kids usually end up bald, when going through chemo. Seems when you tell your friends and family you'll shave your head if they pony up some dough, good things happen! I started out on this journey as a response to a dare of sorts. My friend Paul was doing it for the second year in a row so I decided I would do it too. I decided to try to raise $1500 beginning January 1st with my shave date set as March 16th.

As of February 1, I exceeded my goal! So now I'm moving forward and trying to see if I can double it. I'm not sure if I can but I'll keep asking for donations right up to the minute the razor hits my bean. And here's why...

Some of you know my sister has been living with cancer for a couple of years now. She's doing well! She's on a new medication and it's working wonders. She was the original reason I decided to do this. But then...

I logged onto Facebook today and found a message from my niece. Her husband's nephew's kid...just 4 years old...was diagnosed with leukemia on Friday. He started chemo on Saturday. Five years old. That has to make ya think...

Cancer on any level, for any age, is a heinous disease where the 'cure' is almost worse than the illness. Research is the single most important factor if we're ever to see a cancer free world. Five year olds should not have to suffer. Five year olds should be laughing and singing and dancing and being awesome. Not sick. And it just hit home with me that this is the real reason I am shaving my head on March 16th. I will proudly show off my big bowling ball head...

...for Kaleb.

Big Bowling Ball Head...

On March 16th, 2013 I'm getting my head shaved. Beginning January 1 this year I started to raised $1500 for the St. Baldrick's Foundation. St. Baldrick's provides needed grant money for cancer research - primarily for research for cures for cancer that affect children and young adults.

A couple of years ago, my sister was diagnosed with cancer. Her prognosis wasn't good. She had, in addition to other cancers throughout her body, Stage 4 breast cancer. Her oncologist told her that the best he could hope for was to prolong her life and make her comfortable. He started her on estrogen based treatments, no surgery, and hoped for the best. Every time she went in for a PetScan, her tumor markers got smaller! This year, her doctor got approval to try a new medication - one that has yet to be approved by the FDA but one that has been successful in other countries. Amazingly, her tumors continue to shrink. She is now cancer free in some of the areas where cancer was originally found. She takes her medication every day and her fight continues but she is doing very well. If not for the research into this new medication and the original medication she was on, my sister may not be here today. I have a lot to be grateful for.

A colleague of mine recently lost his young son, Shaymus, to cancer. Shaymus was a wise soul and fought a good fight. He inspired a lot of people to be better and really tried to make himself well. In the end, he was too tired and too sick and knew it was his time to go. I don't even think he was 10 years old yet.

Then I read about Ida. Ida is a little girl who lives here in Wisconsin. She was diagnosed with liver cancer at only one year of age. Liver cancer in a child that young is almost unheard of. She went through loads of chemo that made her sick and made her hair fall out. She was in and out of the hospital all the time. And now? Now, Ida is cancer free!

My friend Paul introduced me to St. Baldrick's this year. He was a shavee last year and I decided that I would do it this year too. I'm doing it for my sister and in honor of Ida and all the children who are struggling right now with their own cancer battles. If you can, please donate. Follow this link:

 Mary Beth Big Bald Bowling Ball Head

Click on Donate Now and follow the directions from there. Any amount will be greatly appreciated! I believe in this cause and cancer has touched so many of our lives. Please give!

About my sister...

Awhile ago I wrote about finding out that one of my sisters was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. Her condition is such that surgery cannot help her and at the time of it's diagnosis the doc told her that the best they can hope for is to prolong her life. The cancer was mainly in her breasts but had also spread to her lung, pelvic area and lymph nodes. They decided to try an estrogen based medical treatment to see what would happen. She's now on her third course of this treatment but so far the results have been nothing short of miraculous. The tumors in her breasts have dramatically decreased in size, some of them are gone. The cancer in her lymph nodes is gone and the tumors in her pelvis have also decreased in size. The spot they were seeing in her lungs is now gone. The tumor markers in her blood work and PET Scan all show that this treatment is outright reversing most of the tumor's growth. We couldn't be happier.

We aren't foolish enough to think that the cancer will go away completely. It won't. But at this rate what looked like a few more months of her being here has now turned to a few more years. She will always have to have treatment and her immune system will always be compromised so she has to be very careful if she is around people who are ill.

She's decreased her work hours. Yes, she's worked through all of this! A testament to the strength of the women in my family - but she's cut back. She's taking time to be with her husband, her daughter and grand daughter. And me.

Today, we just went out for a drive. It was hot and the wind in the car felt good. We talked and laughed. Being summer there was any manner of odd ducks walking around town. We had ice cream. It was lovely. When I got married the first time she was my Matron of Honor. She listened while I was going through my divorce. She asks about my life and my life and my dreams for the future. When I get married again, soon, I will again ask her to be my witness. And I'm thankful to know she will be here to accept that offer.

I'm close to all of my sisters but I am closest to this one. I will miss her everyday, every minute, when she's gone but for now, we have this time, and, for now, it is enough.

Good news? Bad news??

My sister got the results of her recent PET Scan. The cancer has spread to her pelvis, ribs, lungs and one shoulder. That's the bad news.

She has to have some more blood tests done tomorrow to see if her particular type of cancer is estrogen related. If it is, then she won't have to have intravenous chemo but rather would take pills and get an injection of bone strengthening medication every two weeks. So, she wouldn't lose her hair or have the usual sickness that comes with chemo. That's the good news.

She was also told that her cancer didn't just appear overnight but has been with her a long time now. She hadn't been to a doctor in many years before this and so they couldn't catch it earlier. She was also told that no matter the treatment the best they can do is hope to prolong her life. She is incurable. That's the worst news.

They can't tell her how long "prolonged" may be. That will all depend on how effective the treatments are and if the tumors shrink. Her husband is upset that she didn't go to a doctor sooner. Her daughter is distraught at knowing she is losing her mother. I am torn between seizing my life and living it to it's fullest and facing what will be the greatest loss of my life. I feel guilty for my moments of happiness and sad that she may not be here to share them with me.

But we are going on. My family is planning our Thanksgiving holidays and then Christmas and beyond. We're getting up, going to work, talking with friends and doing all the things normal people do. But this isn't normal. This is wrong. Because what we really want to do is scream and cry and hit something...hard. But Terry is forever optimistic. So what right do we have to be otherwise? My other sister thinks she is in denial. But I think she knows there is nothing good to come from shutting down and shutting out life. So she goes on. And that is the lesson of strength we will all learn from her.

Wednesday is Wallow Day....

I went to work after waking up from an almost sleepless night. I feel a bit numb. I spent the day doing the odd work task, researching cancer treatments, feeling sorry for my sister and feeling sorry for myself. I felt myself starting to wallow in the latter. I realize how odd that really is, that I would feel sorry for myself. I mean, I'm not the one having to go through all of this yet I am going through it. I feel selfish when I sense that self pity start creeping. Yet, aren't my feelings somehow true as well? It seems false to not let myself feel them yet incredibly childish that I am. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to scratch at the cancer and yell "Get the fuck out of her!" I want to rail at whatever made this happen and kick it and kill it and burn it and make it pay for even threatening my beloved sister. Yet I fear it. I fear that it will win and she will lose and I will lose her and then I want to erase that thought forever because for right now Terry is strong, she is healthy and, I know, this is the time we have to be strong and to fight and to laugh and to love and to live. I can't buckle under this pressure because this fight is not mine. It's hers. It's her struggle and feelings that have to take front and center and I have to put my feelings aside. She cannot see me aching. I won't let her.

In the last three days more people have approached after hearing about my sister's illness and told me they would keep her in they're prayers. I'm not a particularly religious person but somehow the idea that people who have never met Terry are using their personal faith to try to help comforts me. I thank you all, you know who you are. As all this plays out, I shall call on you more and more.

Panic is setting in...

My sister went to see the surgeon today. She came home and came to personally tell me the news. It's not good. She has Stage 4 breast cancer. If you don't know what that means, let me explain. Cancer is categorized in stages from 1-4. One being the easiest to cure meaning they caught it early and know what to do with it. The curability lessens with each stage and the survival rate diminishes. There is no Stage 5.

Stage 4 means that her cancer has metastasized which means it's spread to other parts of her body. Right now they think it's in her lymph nodes but Stage 4 can also spread to the bones, liver, lungs and brain. Her recent blood work and liver enzymes all came back negative so there's a good chance it hasn't spread into her bones or liver. She will be having a PET Scan on Thursday and seeing the oncologist for the first time. He will likely start her on a very aggressive course of chemotherapy. They hope to shrink the tumors and stop their growth. Then she will have a double mastectomy. And more chemo and radiation - most likely for the rest of her life. Prognosis for Stage 4 could be a little as 6 months or it could be 12 years or more. There's no way to tell and won't be for a very long time.

She's being remarkably stoic through all of this while those around her are trying their hardest to remain calm and strong and supportive. I kept it together until she left and then I completely lost it.

My sister Terry is very important to me. Though I love all my sibs, I am closest to her. She is the kindest, most caring, most generous person ever and the idea that she will be going through this is unthinkable. She is only 58 years old and has a whole lot more life to live. I tell her I love her at the end of every phone conversation I have with her or whenever we are parting company. And I do. With all of my heart.

When it rains...

My new found inner peace was destroyed last night with one phone call. One of my sister's has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She is remarkably resilient whilst I am falling apart. I tell myself "one day at a time" but the thoughts of where this could all go keep creeping in. If only she had been to a doctor long before this. If only she had taken better care of herself all these years. If only...

There's no word yet as to how bad this is. The cancer is in both breasts and further tests have to be done to know just what she's up against. Then will come the treatments.

I love her with all my heart. I'll support her as best I can with a buoyancy that I muster from somewhere within. I will turn my head when the tears come so she doesn't see them. I'll remind myself and her to breathe, and live, and laugh as often as we can. I will hope for the best. Please hope for the best too.