Let me first start by saying, it's been a little over two weeks since my sister passed, and I've still not gotten over the "Anger" stage of grieving. Yesterday was the viewing of her body before cremation. Saturday will be the burial.
The viewing was all that I'd knew it would be. Cold, painful, and unnecessary. Maybe that's selfish of me? It's just, I've seen her lifeless body enough to fuel dreams for years to come... and fuel them, it has. But this was a whole new view. A frozen, sweaty as it defrosted, view. I kissed her despite of it, I couldn't leave there without giving her one last kiss. I asked the kids and her husband to join hands with me as I prayed. I used prayer as a way to remind them that their mother, Sheryl, was already amongst the angels; this was just her vessel.... Ashes to ashes.
So, chemo. That started today, as mentioned in the title. Due to my age and health, I made a good candidate for a research group being run by a Cancer Center in NY. They are aiming to prove that regular exercise improves the side effects of chemotherapy treatments. So I wear a pedometer and actigraph (whatever that is?) daily, and also have a set workout regimen I have to follow. Mostly just resistance band stuff and walking so many steps a day. No biggie, right?? I can do this... although I haven't worked out in a pretty long time and am double thinking the idea of starting to while on chemo... but hey, I've always been a little out of the box, bat shit crazy.
The initial feelings on today? I was scared and nervous. The actual treatment wasn't bad, they poked a needle in my port on my chest and gave me some pre-med drugs. They issued two huge syringes of the "Red Devil" along with one other chemotherapy drug afterward. Got some nausea meds to take home, along with stool softeners and prilosec (all prophylactic drugs for possible side effects of the chemotherapy). Also, got an injection to take home to help boost my white blood cells. I'm sure the family will have fun poking me!
Anyway, that's that. Now it's just a "wait and see" kinda game as to when these side effects will hit. As you know by now, I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
2/10/12...
The first thing I registered yesterday morning was the simultaneous sound of my bedroom door slamming open and my niece crying hysterically. It was closely followed by Cash crying and Brad screaming for his life. Myself? I was calm and all too aware that the time had come.
Just as I was about to slap brad in the face to wake him from his hysteria, he snapped out of it and jumped up.... So I ran downstairs. I see my brother in law kneeling next to my sisters favorite recliner, lightly pushing on her chest, crying and saying "breath my love, please breath". I yell for brad to hurry, she needs CPR, which he's trained to do. He gets there and for a split second I see him register the bile coming from her mouth, but he doesn't hesitate to put his mouth to hers and start breathing for her. He tells Terrance, my brother in law, to push harder. And so they continue this until the help arrives.
The firemen are the first responders. They pull her lifeless body to the floor, forgetting to brace her head. Brad catches it, and saves them from cracking her head on the wooden floor. They asked all these questions, we answer and watch helplessly. Terrance and I had both sunk to the floor, him still crying, me, in shock. Brad was helping. My niece still hysterical on the phone trying to reach my sisters oldest daughter. Her boyfriend upstairs, keeping the kids from the stuff nightmares are made of.
Ambulance arrives. More of the same. Then they load her on a gurney and I yell for everyone to get a jacket because we are hauling out to the hospital. We arrive right behind the ambulance, through the back doors with my sister. Drs are waiting, a room is waiting, partitions to block everyone from that area are set up. We are strategically blocked from the room and told to answer some questions for the dr. It's just a diversion to keep us calm and away from the gory stuff they had to do to try to get her heart pumping. They place us in our own room, far away from hers, armed with boxes of Kleenex and warm blankets. I take the few moments to call my father, brother and oldest sister.
My brother and sister head to the hospital, my father is stuck in the mainland on a trip to visit his brother. I don't know how long it was, but by now my sisters oldest daughter has arrived and my siblings aren't far away. The Dr comes in to say there is a slight heart beat but she's not able to breath enough on her own, and her body isn't keeping enough of the oxygen. So, she was alive but only because of the machines, and even with that, she'd slowly slip away very soon.
We can go see her now, "spend the rest of the time with her" .
We walk in the room, she's been tubed and has dark blood running out of the side of her mouth. It was the side that I stood on, not the side all her kids were on. I try to clean it without them noticing, because when my own mother died, seeing her mouth fill with blood was an image I've never been able to shake.
I hold her hand. It's still so warm and feels so alive, just like it did that month I spent with her in the hospital when she was first diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I held her hand a lot then, also. This would be the last time I'd feel it. I memorized her fingers, the tan from all her rings she loved so much, her beautiful long nails. I thought of how different her hand felt in mine, in comparison to my mothers that final day. She still had so much life left in hers.
Then, even despite me knowing better, I got so mad at God, silently yelling at him that it just wasn't fair.... She had so much life left! Everyone took their turn talking to her one last time, kissing her one last time, thanking her for all she'd done for us... one last time. We all held hands and I led a prayer. Then my brother took over holding her hand that I had held for so long, as we all watched her oxygen drop from 42 to 30 percent in the hour we sat there. Then we gave her husband some time alone with her.
We all knew her wishes of not living on machines and it was clear she wouldn't be able to live without them, so it was time for her husband to tell us his decision. She had made it so clear to us all, that he needn't explain it to any of us, but he felt he had to, he felt he needed to say he was sorry. Him and the kids sobbed and hugged for a long time, them telling him that he had nothing to be sorry for. He spent more time alone with her and then my niece informed the drs of our decision.
We stayed for the disconnection, not wanting to miss a second of time with her. What happened next wasn't something anyone should see. The tubes came out, as did bile and blood. And she kept breathing, breaths I've heard referred to as "death breaths". Her daughter softly cried out, " she's still breathing!" this went on for about ten minutes, until a look of shear horror and pain fell on her as she took her last breath, that you could hear filled up her lungs with fluid. Then the torture in her face slowly eased..... And she was gone forever.
Just as I was about to slap brad in the face to wake him from his hysteria, he snapped out of it and jumped up.... So I ran downstairs. I see my brother in law kneeling next to my sisters favorite recliner, lightly pushing on her chest, crying and saying "breath my love, please breath". I yell for brad to hurry, she needs CPR, which he's trained to do. He gets there and for a split second I see him register the bile coming from her mouth, but he doesn't hesitate to put his mouth to hers and start breathing for her. He tells Terrance, my brother in law, to push harder. And so they continue this until the help arrives.
The firemen are the first responders. They pull her lifeless body to the floor, forgetting to brace her head. Brad catches it, and saves them from cracking her head on the wooden floor. They asked all these questions, we answer and watch helplessly. Terrance and I had both sunk to the floor, him still crying, me, in shock. Brad was helping. My niece still hysterical on the phone trying to reach my sisters oldest daughter. Her boyfriend upstairs, keeping the kids from the stuff nightmares are made of.
Ambulance arrives. More of the same. Then they load her on a gurney and I yell for everyone to get a jacket because we are hauling out to the hospital. We arrive right behind the ambulance, through the back doors with my sister. Drs are waiting, a room is waiting, partitions to block everyone from that area are set up. We are strategically blocked from the room and told to answer some questions for the dr. It's just a diversion to keep us calm and away from the gory stuff they had to do to try to get her heart pumping. They place us in our own room, far away from hers, armed with boxes of Kleenex and warm blankets. I take the few moments to call my father, brother and oldest sister.
My brother and sister head to the hospital, my father is stuck in the mainland on a trip to visit his brother. I don't know how long it was, but by now my sisters oldest daughter has arrived and my siblings aren't far away. The Dr comes in to say there is a slight heart beat but she's not able to breath enough on her own, and her body isn't keeping enough of the oxygen. So, she was alive but only because of the machines, and even with that, she'd slowly slip away very soon.
We can go see her now, "spend the rest of the time with her" .
We walk in the room, she's been tubed and has dark blood running out of the side of her mouth. It was the side that I stood on, not the side all her kids were on. I try to clean it without them noticing, because when my own mother died, seeing her mouth fill with blood was an image I've never been able to shake.
I hold her hand. It's still so warm and feels so alive, just like it did that month I spent with her in the hospital when she was first diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I held her hand a lot then, also. This would be the last time I'd feel it. I memorized her fingers, the tan from all her rings she loved so much, her beautiful long nails. I thought of how different her hand felt in mine, in comparison to my mothers that final day. She still had so much life left in hers.
Then, even despite me knowing better, I got so mad at God, silently yelling at him that it just wasn't fair.... She had so much life left! Everyone took their turn talking to her one last time, kissing her one last time, thanking her for all she'd done for us... one last time. We all held hands and I led a prayer. Then my brother took over holding her hand that I had held for so long, as we all watched her oxygen drop from 42 to 30 percent in the hour we sat there. Then we gave her husband some time alone with her.
We all knew her wishes of not living on machines and it was clear she wouldn't be able to live without them, so it was time for her husband to tell us his decision. She had made it so clear to us all, that he needn't explain it to any of us, but he felt he had to, he felt he needed to say he was sorry. Him and the kids sobbed and hugged for a long time, them telling him that he had nothing to be sorry for. He spent more time alone with her and then my niece informed the drs of our decision.
We stayed for the disconnection, not wanting to miss a second of time with her. What happened next wasn't something anyone should see. The tubes came out, as did bile and blood. And she kept breathing, breaths I've heard referred to as "death breaths". Her daughter softly cried out, " she's still breathing!" this went on for about ten minutes, until a look of shear horror and pain fell on her as she took her last breath, that you could hear filled up her lungs with fluid. Then the torture in her face slowly eased..... And she was gone forever.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
What am I supposed to do with these?
It's been almost two weeks since I've lost my breasts. Well, "lost" isn't exactly accurate but who has time to dwell on technicalities? So, anyway, it's been two weeks of ups and downs. At my best, I'm running around like a maniac trying to clean the house or go out for an all day shopping trip. At my worst, I decide to lay in bed for hours watching episodes of "Weeds" on Netflix. The bad days aren't TOO bad....
...until I remove my shirt.
On good days I can just blur out the area. You know, like on a "girls gone wild" commercial? Yeah, I can do that on my good days. But the bad days render me not so talented. I remove my shirt and just stare at this skin that's been left...and I always wonder the same thing, "what am I supposed to do with these?"
Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful the tumor is gone. It's just...I went in there prepared for a simple mastectomy and came out with a skin sparring one. I grew up with a mother who had mastectomies, I was prepared to look like her. But I don't.... Instead I have two very different pockets of skin left on my chest. One is a flap that just hangs there... The other is kind of suctioned in to look like a bowl. Gross, right? And I have to stare at them for a whole year?!
I feel so....butchered.
Chemo starts either next week or the week after. I know I will make it through all this, but will this spare skin? Even the dr showed concern as to wether it would be usable in a year. I can only wait and see... And hope for the surgeons sake, that he didn't emotionally torture me for nothing. Heh.
...until I remove my shirt.
On good days I can just blur out the area. You know, like on a "girls gone wild" commercial? Yeah, I can do that on my good days. But the bad days render me not so talented. I remove my shirt and just stare at this skin that's been left...and I always wonder the same thing, "what am I supposed to do with these?"
Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful the tumor is gone. It's just...I went in there prepared for a simple mastectomy and came out with a skin sparring one. I grew up with a mother who had mastectomies, I was prepared to look like her. But I don't.... Instead I have two very different pockets of skin left on my chest. One is a flap that just hangs there... The other is kind of suctioned in to look like a bowl. Gross, right? And I have to stare at them for a whole year?!
I feel so....butchered.
Chemo starts either next week or the week after. I know I will make it through all this, but will this spare skin? Even the dr showed concern as to wether it would be usable in a year. I can only wait and see... And hope for the surgeons sake, that he didn't emotionally torture me for nothing. Heh.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
They are gone...
It's been 4 days since I've been breast free as well as, hopefully, cancer free.
Let me start by saying, I feel pretty damn good. I keep thinking that maybe I'm in denial... Should the pain be this minimal? Should I really be up and at it, not laying in bed crying??
Now let me go back to the day of my surgery... Things were a bit surreal.... Well, more than a bit. It started with me being late... So, I got to avoid the hours of waiting in pre op! Everyone seemed to know my name and what I was there for... First thing was nuclear medicine. There, they injected dye in my lymph nodes with four needles via my nipple, no anesthesia. Little breast massages followed to work the dye through... I guess the private last moment I had with my husband was now voided because this Dr just had the last hurrah my breasts were ever gonna experience ... Bastard. After an hour of pictures, I got to get dressed again and the guy actually said, "oh yeah, that's right! I Forgot you wore glasses" =/
Fast forward through scrubbing down, a million of the same questions by every member of the surgery team, kicking Brad out of pre op because he was literally shaking, writing an "l" and "r" on my breasts so they wouldn't get mixed up.... And then waking up.
There was a nurse there telling me something important. All I could feel was the lack of weight on my chest... I touched it when she walked away... And broke down. They were gone! Just like that.... They were there, and now they aren't! Where did they go?? In a waste disposal bag, in a trash can? I was sobbing so hard that two nurses freaked out and were screaming for my nurse, "something's wrong, she's crying, get her pain medicine!"...
My nurse kept asking me where it hurt... Can I breath okay? Is it my throat??
No, I was just gasping for air because I was hyperventilating... Because they were here and now they are just gone, I told her. She hugged me softly and rubbed my back... Told me she was my best friend today and I could cry all I want.
By the time I got to a room and Brad was there, everything was okay... He was smiling from ear to ear, so happy to see me and to see I was the same old rock as always. Happy for the preliminary news that my nodes were cancer free. His happiness made me even more confident in my own. The Dr told us that he had a change of heart about the total skin removal after the nodes turned out negative... So he did a skin sparring mastectomy on both sides. Visually it's not what I was prepared for, but Brad is so confident in me being rid of cancer that he doesn't even seem to care about the new look of things.
So today, I feel pretty damn good!
Let me start by saying, I feel pretty damn good. I keep thinking that maybe I'm in denial... Should the pain be this minimal? Should I really be up and at it, not laying in bed crying??
Now let me go back to the day of my surgery... Things were a bit surreal.... Well, more than a bit. It started with me being late... So, I got to avoid the hours of waiting in pre op! Everyone seemed to know my name and what I was there for... First thing was nuclear medicine. There, they injected dye in my lymph nodes with four needles via my nipple, no anesthesia. Little breast massages followed to work the dye through... I guess the private last moment I had with my husband was now voided because this Dr just had the last hurrah my breasts were ever gonna experience ... Bastard. After an hour of pictures, I got to get dressed again and the guy actually said, "oh yeah, that's right! I Forgot you wore glasses" =/
Fast forward through scrubbing down, a million of the same questions by every member of the surgery team, kicking Brad out of pre op because he was literally shaking, writing an "l" and "r" on my breasts so they wouldn't get mixed up.... And then waking up.
There was a nurse there telling me something important. All I could feel was the lack of weight on my chest... I touched it when she walked away... And broke down. They were gone! Just like that.... They were there, and now they aren't! Where did they go?? In a waste disposal bag, in a trash can? I was sobbing so hard that two nurses freaked out and were screaming for my nurse, "something's wrong, she's crying, get her pain medicine!"...
My nurse kept asking me where it hurt... Can I breath okay? Is it my throat??
No, I was just gasping for air because I was hyperventilating... Because they were here and now they are just gone, I told her. She hugged me softly and rubbed my back... Told me she was my best friend today and I could cry all I want.
By the time I got to a room and Brad was there, everything was okay... He was smiling from ear to ear, so happy to see me and to see I was the same old rock as always. Happy for the preliminary news that my nodes were cancer free. His happiness made me even more confident in my own. The Dr told us that he had a change of heart about the total skin removal after the nodes turned out negative... So he did a skin sparring mastectomy on both sides. Visually it's not what I was prepared for, but Brad is so confident in me being rid of cancer that he doesn't even seem to care about the new look of things.
So today, I feel pretty damn good!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
My decision...
I was told today that the surgeon will take into account my BRCA-1 gene mutation... Which meant I was now free to make the choice of a double mastectomy, instead of the lumpectomy that was planned for Friday. Big problem, Cancer Board confirmed that I'll be going through chemotherapy and radiation. What does this mean for my breast reconstruction I was planning on?? It will be on hold for a year until treatments are over.
They gave me a day to decide the fate of my breasts. Tomorrow I sign the consent forms.
All day I've been hearing things like, "just take them off, get rid of that nasty cancer forever!", "you are more than just a pair of breasts, girl!!" etc etc. As if I don't know these things? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate people trying... but the bottom line is, unless you've faced the decision of cutting off your breasts, I'd prefer to just not hear these things from you.
There's only one person I wanted to hear an opinion from, and she's gone forever. But, I can hear my mama loud and clear. I know what she'd say, afterall, she went through it.
Tomorrow I'll sign the consent forms for a double mastectomy. Friday I will lose my chichis for good.
They gave me a day to decide the fate of my breasts. Tomorrow I sign the consent forms.
All day I've been hearing things like, "just take them off, get rid of that nasty cancer forever!", "you are more than just a pair of breasts, girl!!" etc etc. As if I don't know these things? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate people trying... but the bottom line is, unless you've faced the decision of cutting off your breasts, I'd prefer to just not hear these things from you.
There's only one person I wanted to hear an opinion from, and she's gone forever. But, I can hear my mama loud and clear. I know what she'd say, afterall, she went through it.
Tomorrow I'll sign the consent forms for a double mastectomy. Friday I will lose my chichis for good.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
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