Stomp This

Life moves pretty fast

2010-08-17T00:59:00.000-07:00

Funny things happen when one drinks an iced mocha after 7 p.m. In addition to an immediate caffeine buzz, it can cause an impromptu trip down memory lane. In my case, the laptop came out and the StompThis! blog site launched after a seven-month absence. Interesting reading at 1 a.m., to say the least.

It has been what seems like a lifetime since the endless posts about medical procedures, test results and chemo updates; many of which made me cringe to re-read. Living a life consumed by fear and uncertainty for nine months seems overwhelming at this point. These days, my thoughts are focused on work deadlines, summer camps and dinner prep. While thoughts of cancer are never far from my mind, they no longer dominate.

It's remarkable how quickly regular life returns. I never imagined that I would eventually go a day without thinking of cancer. The thought of it almost always there, but I no longer find myself following up an introduction to to a stranger with, "...and I was diagnosed with breast cancer." Now with a full head of hair, eyelashes and energy, no one would ever know I ever had cancer! I've met dozens of people in recent months who have no idea what I went through. I no longer feel like I "am" cancer, and do not feel the need to explain my ordeal to everyone anymore. I guess this is what happens when the memories fade and life starts to get back to normal.

"New normal," I should say. This is a term we cancer folks like to toss around, probably because it feels funny for us to say things are back to "normal." While I am back to doing "normal" things like filling up the inflatable swimming pool, making grocery lists, fuming about my interview subjects who don't promptly return my phone calls and scheduling haircuts, I'm constantly aware of the fact that life now is completely different than the way it used to be. I never used to think about how old I might be when I die. Now I wonder if I'll make it to 50. Not because I've received any bad news from my doctor, but when you beat cancer at age 38, you wonder how long your luck's going to hold. Sounds morbid, but thoughts like this are pretty common these days.

And while they may seem defeating, they actually bring about a sense of purpose. This may sound trite, but this experience has really made me appreciate life. I've actually felt happier in the past six months than I have in a long time. I'm sure much of this has to do with my happy marriage, great family, caring friends and financial security, but I also attribute it to the realization that life can be short. I doubt I would have every realized this before facing cancer. When I look in the rear view mirror and see Oliver gazing out the window, absently singing along with the radio, I feel a surge of joy. I reach out to friends, schedule lunch dates, send emails, maintain contact. Comfortable shoes bring great happiness. So does a good meal. Sometimes when I'm sitting in the kitchen or walking down the street, I just close my eyes and listen to the sounds of life around me. Life! As Ferris Bueller said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

I'm not planning on missing a single moment.

Life after cancer

2010-01-19T20:52:00.000-08:00

Since treatment wrapped up Oct. 13, life has slowly returned to normal - a new normal, that is. I am told often that life will never be "normal" again. I'm not sure what that really means. I don't feel like I have changed that much. I do think about the cancer coming back pretty much all the time. Maybe that's what people mean: that you'll always have that fear hanging over you. I can easily say that I think about the cancer at least five times a day, but it doesn't bother me anymore when the thoughts arise. I think I'm just so used to them now.

I had a routine check-up with my oncologist a couple weeks ago. At these appointments, blood is drawn and checked for "tumor markers," which, if elevated, could indicate the growth of a tumor. I asked my doctor not to tell me if my markers were elevated until after we get back from Hawaii in February. I refuse to have another trip derailed by my health!

Jason, Oliver and I are heading to Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii on January 28. There, we'll be celebrating out first wedding anniversary on January 30. We're having a small ceremony - what we should have been doing one year ago instead of recovering from a mastectomy. My parents, Jason's parents, and a small handful of fantastic friends will be joining us for a ceremony on the beach, followed by dinner at a restaurant. We couldn't be more excited for this trip! The constant rain and gray skies of wintertime in Seattle have begun to take their toll. It's time to lie on the beach and relax for awhile!

My energy has fully returned and I am again working out regularly at the gym. Only recently have I realized how much the treatment had zapped me of my energy. It's nice to be energized by a run or spin class instead of feeling completely drained and tired. I have also started working more, and surprisingly - despite the down economy - have been keeping fairly busy. I'm wrapping up a couple big projects before we leave, and I have two on the books that I'll start as soon as we return.

Oliver is doing well. He's been a real trooper all this, and only had some intermittent sleep issues to show for it. He really enjoys attending Small Talk at Gilda's Club - an art therapy group for kids whose loved ones have or have had cancer. He loves the group leader, Michelle, and looks forward to the sessions every other Wednesday. I've continued to attend the Young Survival Coalition meetings once or twice a month, and found myself saying "yes" when asked if I wanted to share the duties as co-chair of communications for the YSC Seattle Leadership Committee. I'll be attending the YSC National conference in Atlanta at the end of February, traveling with about a dozen other young women from our chapter. We'll spend three days attending conferences aimed toward young women affected by breast cancer. I'm looking forward to learning some new things and spending time with some incredibly strong, smart and engaging women from my group.

Not a day goes by that I am not thankful to be done with my treatment. It was such an interruption to all our lives. Just knowing that I don't have to go to the hospital for treatment makes me appreciate my days so much more!

Next up: another Zometa infusion on April 5. Until then, just keeping busy and enjoying life!

The fun never ends!

2009-11-06T18:51:00.001-08:00

November 6, 2009

Chemo and radiation are over, but the visits to Swedish Cancer Institute keep on coming. Not for anything serious – just routine follow up stuff.

As my treatment was winding down, I discussed a preventative medication with my oncologist and decided to go ahead and take it. If you recall, the nature of my tumor – triple negative – meant there is no adjuvant therapy that I can take to decrease the chance of recurrence. Some drugs like Tamoxifen or Herceptin block certain hormones that could fuel a tumor, but your tumor needs to be receptive to those hormones, and mine was not. However, the drug Zometa – which has been used to treat osteoporosis for years and is often used by patients whose cancer has spread to their bones – can also be given to post-treatment patients to help ward off bone metastases. I decided to take this, and had my first infusion last week. I’ll just go once every six months for three years. I was warned of achy bones, but I didn’t expect it to be as uncomfortable as it was. I was fine until the day after the infusion; then felt as if I had the flu – chills, body aches, and a headache that lasted for several days. Glad this is over for now!

I had my first follow-up mammogram this week, and it came back all clear. I am a bit cynical when it comes to mammograms. I’ll feel better on Tuesday after I have a chest MRI.

I’ll continue to have mammograms and/or MRIs every six months to check for any new tumors for the next several years.

OH! And I get the much disliked port-a-cath removed on Nov. 16!! It’s a minor day surgery. I’ll have a mild sedative while it’s being performed. I’m really looking forward to this!

As for reconstruction, the jury is still out. The thought of a pretty- hard-core medical procedure right now does not appeal to me, and I’m also not interested in having foreign material in my body. There are also several different types of surgeries that use tissue from your own stomach or back to create a breast. Those are pretty invasive and don’t appeal to me either. Some people wait years before considering reconstruction. That may be me.

So that’s pretty much it! I have been busy with work these past several weeks, and just finished up a big project. We’re looking forward to a week in Colorado over Thanksgiving.

Up in smoke

2009-10-18T16:55:00.000-07:00

October 18, 2009

The night after my final radiation treatment I was feeling as if I needed to somehow commemorate the event. Jason suggested burning something. It sounded good to me, so I sifted through my cancer “notebook” – a large binder that has held my path reports, scan results, weekly blood counts and a pile of associated paperwork. While I kept most of it (who knows when I’ll need to look back and find out what my white cell counts were the second week of June), I pulled out a handful of cancer-related documentation that I could do without.

Jason headed out to the garage armed with a headlamp and dusted off an old rusty hibachi. We fired it up in the pouring rain out on the front walkway. Among the documents that went up in smoke:

* An article written by a Seattle woman about how to talk to your kids about cancer. The article was informative, but her big smiley face on the front was way too cheery for the subject matter.
* A list of Seattle-area wig shops.
* Scribbled notes from one of a zillion doctor’s visits.
* Information on a cancer support group at Swedish.
* An incomplete spreadsheet documenting doctor visits, procedures and blood draws that we gave up on filling out after a few weeks.
* A brochure for Mary Catherine’s – a shop near the hospital that specializes in post-mastectomy bras and camisoles.
* A catalog of wigs and hair coverings that Jason found stashed under the seat of his car. One particular photo – “before” and “after” pictures of a woman with no hair – had sent me into hysterics shortly after I was diagnosed. I was all too pleased to torch this.

Here we are bidding farewell to cancer!

TWO MORE DAYS!

2009-10-12T12:35:00.000-07:00

October 12, 2009

Just two more days of radiation until I can kiss the daily slog up to Swedish Medical Center GOODBYE! Despite the fact that I have made the trip no fewer than 30 times in the past six weeks, I still find myself bolting out of here at 2:05 p.m., having realized only moments before that my appointment time is looming. Luckily I've never been late, and my machine -- the "Precision" (not to be confused with the "Synergy" down the hall) -- seems to be running on time most days.

Here are a few things I'm going to miss:

Angela, the receptionist at the main entrance to the Swedish Cancer Center building; and T0ny, the security guard. They are possibly two of the friendliest people I have ever met.
Bria and Sharon – my two favorite radiation therapists (even though I vowed not to get attached to any “cancer people.)
The free parking spaces set aside especially for radiation patients. I feel so privileged when I pull in, toss my parking pass on my dashboard and breeze past all the other unfortunate folks driving around the block looking for street parking.
A forced break in the middle of the day.

And here are some things I am NOT going to miss:

The seemingly never-ending construction work going on at Virginia Mason just around the corner from Swedish. This hospital was under renovation seven years ago when I was going up to Swedish on a bi-weekly basis for pregnancy complications. I have to believe it’s been going on ever since. Every day is a new traffic configuration around the site.
The annoying panhandler at the Denny/Dexter exit off Highway 99. He won’t let you off the hook until you make eye contact. There’s only so much fiddling with the radio one can do.
The McDonalds on Madison Street that I drive by on my way home every day. Just because I don’t eat there anymore doesn’t mean I don’t WANT TO. ALL. THE. TIME!
Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Nosy and Mr. Know-It-All. These three not-so fine fellows are usually in the waiting room about the same time I am. It’s pretty unusual for anyone in the quiet waiting room to be talking to each other (probably because we’re all in some sort of goofy medical gown), so their conversations/outbursts tend to offend like a fart in church. Mr. Grumpy can barely stand it that his machine is “always” late. Calming words from the receptionist and various medical personnel who are unlucky enough to pass by during one of his tirades can say nothing to appease him. His machine is “always broken,” he always has to sit around “for hours,” and “these people should do something about it.” Mr. Nosy is that overly-friendly guy you try to avoid in social settings, except in the waiting room there’s nowhere to hide. I have seen him assault other patients with the full run-down of his medical condition (prostate cancer) and subsequent treatment (radioactive seed implants), and last Wednesday my luck ran out. He plops down next to me with a “So how you doing, young lady?” and without waiting for an answer, plunges into a detailed description of how his doctor planted “little GPS trackers” in his prostate. TMI, dude. Mr. Know-It-All is actually not a patient but the husband of a woman who comes in for daily radiation treatment. I’ve been able to avoid him so far, but I’ve been privileged to listen in on his enlightening conversations with other patients. As I was coming out of the changing room the other day, I caught the tail end of one: “Yep! And the waiting room upstairs is full of young women going through treatment! And I know exactly what put them there!” Well, what a genius! Care to share? Apparently not, as he switched gears and started yapping about his yacht when he saw me.
Getting home five minutes too late to pick Oliver up at the walking bus stop.

Cancer, it’s been an interesting nine months to say the least, but I’m moving on.

And as usually, I’m running late for my appointment. Gotta go!

Super Friends and Radiation Update

2009-10-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

October 8, 2009

Check out Jason’s amazing friends! (Actually, I’m claiming them as my own, now.) These guys participated in the Komen Denver Race for the Cure on Sunday, Oct. 4. Their shirts say it all!!

Back row, from left: Brownell, Damian, Dom, Ian, Brian, Josh and Dave. Front row, from left: Lynna, Mia, Marti and Shevaun

My mind-numbing daily radiation appointments have been moving along without much fanfare. The only exciting thing that’s happened is one of the transformers at Swedish blew up last week, knocking down the servers that run the radiation department computers. Oliver had an early dismissal from school that day, so he came with me to the appointment. We found out the whole department was down when we got there, but we were able to get a personal tour of the radiation room, thanks to my nice radiation therapist Bria and the intern, Trisha. Oliver was quite impressed with the equipment. He’s becoming a regular there – he was a little under the weather yesterday and stayed home from school. He was feeling better by the afternoon, so he came again to the appointment. He got to watch me on the TV screen while I got my treatment, and of course he asked a million questions. One of the therapists called him a “budding radiation oncologist.”

The chest wall where the radiation beam is directed is showing some reaction. A couple weeks ago it started to turn a little red, like a sunburn. Now it is bright red, extremely itchy and starting to blister. The area under my arm is especially chaffed. My radiation oncologist seems disturbingly upbeat about this. Apparently my skin is reacting just as it should! He checked it out this past Tuesday and declared Tuesday, Oct. 13 as my LAST DAY! Apparently, he is known for tacking extra days on to the end of your treatment if your skin isn’t angry-looking enough. Mine seems to be reacting as it should, and he’s promised not to add any days (barring another transformer explosion!)

So that’s that! This whole thing that started with a really crummy day at the doctor’s office January 9 (Katie W. – you were with me – you remember it well!) will be DONE. At some point I’ll have my port-a-cath out (a day surgery) and I’ll have regular check-ups and scans, but the treatment part is over. It’s hard to believe – I thought this day would never come.

I guess there’s one more thing – I am going to get infusions of a drug called Zomeda once every six months for three years (first one is October 27). This drug is supposed to minimize the chance of the cancer coming back in my bones. I’ll have it done in the same place as I had my chemo infusions, although it should only take about 30 minutes.

Enjoying the sun and warm afternoons!

Life after the 3-Day

2009-09-23T22:11:00.000-07:00

September 23, 2009

Sheila here…

Walking for nine hours a day for three days in a row gives one lots of time to think, even when one if surrounded by 2,300 other walkers (not to mention supporters cheering, drivers honking and merchants handing out goodies ranging from fruit shish-ka-bobs to breast-shaped sugar cookies).

I completed the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day walk Sept. 11-13 in Seattle with my two fantastic and energetic teammates, Carol LaMotte and Katherine Meenk – both friends from Oliver’s preschool. The experience was one I will likely never forget.

Seeing all these women (and a few men!) dressed in pink and ready to pound the pavement made me think about what they had all been through to be there. We gathered at Shoreline Community College for opening ceremonies before the sun came up. Large, pink paper lanterns with words like, “Courage” and “Hope” shone in the pre-dawn darkness.

At the very least, each and every one of these participants had put in considerable time and energy raising money for the event (we each had to earn at least $2,300 to participate) and had likely trained for months beforehand to be able to walk the 20 miles each day the course would require. I wondered what else the event meant to each participant. Why was each person was walking? Did their mother have breast cancer? A friend? A co-worker? A partner? Themselves?
After a moving opening ceremony, we left the grounds and began our walk. As we filed nearly single file down a trail, I realized just how many people were walking. The line of women seemed to go on forever. And every one of them was sacrificing a precious weekend to walk and walk and walk for one reason. To draw attention to breast cancer and hopefully find a cure.

In front of us was a woman who was carrying an extra pair of shoes. Carol, Katherine and I noticed and wondered to each other why she would be carrying her spare pair with her – we had planned to change our shoes the following day, but they were in our overnight bags, which were being delivered to our campsite. Later I realized: this woman was carrying these shoes all 60 miles for someone who couldn’t – rather, didn’t – make it.

Over the next several hours it began to dawn on me the impact of this walk. The 2,200 participants had raised millions of dollars. That’s big stuff. But every car that drove by and saw the steady stream of pink suddenly thought about breast cancer. And maybe they told their wife or husband when they got home what they saw. And the neighbors along the route who handed out candy, made signs or simply stood and cheered thought about breast cancer too. And hopefully they told their kids why they were cheering and wearing pink and crying a little bit and saying “thank you” over and over and over. And maybe THAT’S what’s going to make the difference.

Some of my favorite moments along the 60 mile route weren’t the elaborate balloon arches, free cookies or cheerleaders with their customized cheers (“Shake your boobies! Shake, shake your boobies!”). While those certainly brought a smile to my face (and my tummy!) some of the most touching examples of generosity were very small and subtle. In Edmonds, we passed by a schoolyard filled with children who had run to the fence and poked their tiny arms through to give us all high fives.

Elsewhere, people who probably didn’t have much money to spend on cookies, red vines or stickers instead pulled their hoses to the curb and sprayed down the hot and appreciative walkers.

Sometimes the neighbors weren’t out cheering, but they were supporting us all the same. Just knowing that people took the time to make signs gave me energy to keep on walking.

But what meant the most was the amazing support of all my family members and friends who donated money, sent cards, came out and cheered, or just kept me in their thoughts over the weekend. Here are a few of those who helped Team StompThis raise more than $15,000 to kick breast cancer!

Mom and Dad

Aunt Bev and Uncle Tony

Kendra

Carrie and Katie

Jason, Mia and Brian

Melissa and Katherine

Chris

Jason and Oliver

Elham and Sarah

Brenda

Pam

Leslie, Isaac and Maddie

Rebecca and August

...and Val, who came to the closing ceremonies but we didn't get a photo!

Oh yeah – and a little bit about radiation. I’m halfway through the six weeks and my last day is expected to be October 12. My skin is getting a little red and I am becoming tired, but it’s a piece of cake compared to chemo. I have also been working with my naturopath to create a healthy diet plan, and we have decided that I will avoid sugar for a month. It’s been almost two weeks and I have to say this is a lot harder than radiation by a long shot!

Radiation update

2009-09-08T21:38:00.001-07:00

September 8, 2009

Sheila here…

I have completed my first week of radiation and just started my second week today. So far so good! I go in every weekday (weekends and holidays – such as Labor Day – I have off) for the treatment, which lasts only about 10 minutes. Add to that wait time, changing clothes, and getting situated on the table, and it’s just about a half hour total. Not so bad. No skin issues yet – those will apparently start showing up in a week or so. Most people get what they describe as a sunburn. I have some cream and some aloe gel to put on a few times a day. Hopefully that will keep the burn down.

Radiation is much different from chemotherapy. While the chemo was a drug administered intravenously, radiation is the use of a certain type of energy called ionizing radiation to kill cancer cells. The radiation is directed at the chest wall where the breast used to be. It comes out of a large machine that circles around me while I lay on a table. It reminds me of getting an x-ray. The techs come in, get me situated, then leave the room while the radiation is administered. Then they come back in, move me around a bit, and do it again. The machine moves around to four different positions to reach the chest wall from all angles.

Like all my caregivers, the radiation folks are very nice. There are usually three women in the room for my treatments. They are very good at short conversations. I’m in there so briefly there’s really only time to discuss a.) the shoes I am wearing; b.) the book I brought in to read in the waiting room; or c.) what I did over the weekend/last evening.

In other news, the 3-Day walk is Friday, and I am ready! The weather is supposed to be in the mid-70s – sounds just about perfect. Hope to see some of you along the route!

The things people say

2009-08-27T13:38:00.000-07:00

August 27, 2009

Sheila here...

Oliver and I were at Fred Meyer this morning buying school supplies when the following conversation occurred:

Cashier: I like your haircut!

Me: Thank you.

Oliver: It’s not a haircut.

Cashier: Oh, is your mom sick?

Oliver: My mom had breast cancer and her hair fell out.

(Way to cut to the chase, O!)

Me: I’m OK now. My hair’s just growing back after chemo.

Cashier: My good friend lived in Virginia. She had breast cancer and had a mastectomy and a couple years later it came back in the other breast and it killed her! I told her she should have had the other one removed. I really wish she had. Now her auntie has it too. She’s not doing so good.

OK, hello! Time out! My son is standing right here! And so am I! And unless your friend later rose from the dead, I really don’t need to know of her demise.

It’s hard to be mad at people when they share their stories like this – she was just being friendly, but I really wish she would have thought twice before telling me breast cancer killed her friend.

I’ve had conversations similar to this one a few times over the past several months. I am not sure if people just have a temporary lapse in judgment, or if they don’t realize that hearing about things like this is scary for someone in my position. I actually think that they just don’t immediately sense the reality of the situation. They just start talking as if they just discovered we both live in Green Lake, or our kids go to the same school. They find a commonality and run with it.

Luckily I am able to take this with a grain of salt. I’m not naive enough to think that there aren’t people who die from breast cancer. But, I also know the facts – mine was caught early, I have great doctors, my MRI scans are clear, I am exercising and eating right, and I’m being watched carefully.

Just a random observation!

Moms in Maui

2009-08-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

August 24, 2009

Sheila here...

We’ve been back from Maui for a week now, and it’s been difficult to get the images of that paradise vacation out of my mind: the waves crashing ashore at Kapalua Bay Beach, the sound of the waterfall at the hotel pool, the smell of the plumeria flowers in the air.

And the woman at the dive shop.

One morning Jason and I got up early and headed into Lahaina to rent scuba gear before heading to the island’s South Beach area for some snorkeling. We popped into Snorkel Bob’s and headed over to the display of dive masks when I saw her.

A cancer mom.

As one myself, I know how to spot them a mile away. No hair, usually a cap of some kind, no eyebrows, no eyelashes. Jason’s getting good at this game too: he noticed her port-a-cath scar. She also had three young kids with her, and they were with an older man – likely the woman’s father. I guessed they were on a family vacation of some sort. The older man’s gaze lingered on me and I could tell exactly what he was thinking: “She doesn’t have hair or eyelashes either.”

I kept stealing glances at the mom until our eyes met from across the store. Mask in my hand, flippers in hers, we looked at other for a few seconds. We both smiled at each other. She winked at me. I winked back.

Then I went out to the car and cried.

There was another woman facing the same thing I was facing. And I knew just how she felt. I knew she was mustering up all the energy she had to make sure her kids were having fun. I knew she would be sitting at the pool, laughing with her family, even though she knew in the back of her head that she had a disease that wasn’t the least bit funny. She’d get tired and turn in early while the rest of her friends and family were raising glasses on the lanai. And when she got a moment, she’d close her eyes and listen to the sound of the crashing waves and her kids and her husband playing in the sand and hold that moment close, knowing that what is happening RIGHT NOW is what matters the most.

I cried because that woman is me. And there are millions more of them out there. And sadly, there will be millions more to come. We are busy women. Active women. Women who work, have children, raise children, volunteer at co-ops, pack our kids’ lunches, set up playdates, make dinner, pay bills, return library books on time, discover the perfect coffee shop, plan vacations and clean out the litter box. We are the generation that is raising the next one. It’s an important job. We don’t have time to put our lives on hold for 10 months while we face surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, scans and doctors’ appointments.

But there she was. The cancer mom. She still packed her bags, got someone to watch the pets, cancelled the newspaper delivery, asked the neighbor girl to take in the mail, threw some fruit leather and Highlights into her carry-on and flew to Maui. She celebrated her family, the warm breeze, the clean pathology report and her luggage that arrived on time.

That wink said it all.

In other news…

My second MRI – the one of my brain – came back all clear. I am officially cancer-free! I had a six-month check-up with my surgeon last Thursday and everything looks good. Friday I went in for my radiation “mapping” procedure, during which I was measured and scanned in preparation for radiation treatment to start Sept. 1. My standing appointment each weekday is 2:30 p.m., and it is expected that it will only take about 30 minutes each time start to finish. My last day will be sometime around Oct. 16 (happy birthday Jason!).

Maui was unbelievable. Oliver stayed with Grandma and Grandpa and Jason and I had a great time at the pool, walking on beaches, running trails, hiking to blowholes, watching luaus, and especially attending the beach wedding of friends Jason and Kendra! It was an incredibly relaxing vacation filled with warm weather, good food and better company. We were both disappointed to leave, but are finding comfort in the fact that we get to go back to the islands for our wedding re-do in January/February!

The end of summer is near, with Oliver in gymnastics camp this week and Labor Day just around the corner. Jason and I will say goodbye to summer with a trip to the Gorge on Sept. 5 to see the Dave Matthews Band. School starts Sept. 9 and the much-anticipated 3-Day walk is Sept. 11-13.

All clear!

2009-08-07T17:23:00.000-07:00

August 7, 2009

Sheila here...
I had my post-chemo MRI yesterday and a follow-up appointment with my oncologist this morning to go over the results: all clear! No evidence of tumor growth in any organs or bone. A scheduling mishap meant I did not get my brain scan (which is not typical protocol, but something I insisted on), but we’ve scheduled that for August 19. I’m not thrilled to go back in “The Tube,” but I do want to make sure I am 100 percent cancer-free.
Heading back into the MRI machine was not as difficult as it was the first time, when I nearly panicked and needed some serious reassuring to get me through it. Knowing that I tend to feel claustrophobic in such situations, I was prescribed something to calm my nerves. The Ativan – a medication described by the nurse as an “attitude adjuster” – that I took an hour before the scan helped make the whole thing manageable. Even so, I had my friend Rebecca standing by (just as I did at my first MRI) just in case I needed her! This time I didn’t need her hand on my ankle to make me feel better. I got to wear a pair of nifty glasses that, with the use of mirrors, makes it seem like you are looking out the end of the tube instead of at the ceiling of the tube about three inches above you. That kept me entertained for about five minutes; then I just closed my eyes and amazingly dozed off and on. When I got home I took a three-and-a-half hour nap – wow, was that nice!
I expected the good news from the scan would feel like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, but I still feel a bit uneasy. I have become very cynical throughout this whole ordeal and am somewhat mistrusting of scans, procedures and doctors’ reassurances. There’s a part of me that thinks there’s some cancer still lurking around that wasn’t picked up by the machines. I am hoping that will pass with time.
In the meantime, I am getting back to real life: I had a fantastic spin class at the gym this morning and a good meeting with one of my favorite clients in Bellevue this afternoon. Lab results from my blood draw this morning showed my white counts quite low, but I am told they will continue to rise in the absence of the infusions. My red counts are normal and my energy level is good.
A celebratory dinner is in order tonight, then another night out with Jason’s cousin who is in town from Denver. And Maui…six days and counting!
And…I know I’ve said this before, but my mom reminded me that repeating myself would be a good idea in this case: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to all my friends, family, neighbors and colleagues who have helped me in so many ways: rides to treatments, uplifting cards in the mail, words of comfort, movie nights, dinner nights, lunches, donations to the 3-Day walk….I could go on and on. True friends rise to the top in situations such as these, and I feel so very lucky to have so many!

Last chemo and other tidbits

2009-07-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

July 29, 2009

As Katie posted on Tuesday, my blood counts were phenomenal and I was able to complete my last infusion as scheduled. The day was somewhat anti-climactic: I didn’t feel the giddiness I thought I would feel, although that will probably come next Tuesday when I DON’T have to go back! I thought I might feel a bit of nostalgia as I took the elevator down from the third floor, but NOPE! Not going to miss that place one bit. The nurses were fantastic, but I won’t miss them either. The fish tanks were cool…nope – won’t miss them. Bye bye nice lab people who have seen me no fewer than 20 times but still ask, “Arm? Or port?” every time I’m there. See ya later Billy, the well-meaning lab tech who, when he asks me to confirm my birth date, says every time, “Oh! My birthday is one day before yours!” Toodle loo, sweet cancer patient with the fantabulous real-hair wig whose infusions are also Tuesday mornings. It was nice visiting with you and your nice husband in the waiting room, but I won’t be seeing you anymore. Adios, Dr. Kaplan’s nurses, whose names I purposely never learned. Sayonara to the barista at the Swedish Starbucks who twice made me a short raspberry mocha instead of a short ristretto shot mocha. And good riddance to the insanely tight parking stalls in the garage. By some crazy stroke of luck my car made it through five months of visits with nary a scratch.
While I won’t be seeing these folks on a regular basis anymore, I’ll probably run into them from time to time. My visits to Swedish are going to continue, since I’ll be visiting the first floor of the Cancer Institute for daily radiation treatments for six weeks starting August 31. I also have a “staging MRI” next Thursday – a head to toe post-chemo scan to make sure there aren’t any tumors lurking anywhere. Throw in a few mapping visits to the radiologist to get that course of treatment all squared away and my August is filling up quickly.
My visits to the oncologist will slow significantly from here on out. After a visit next Friday to go over the MRI results, I’ll only see him once every few months for the next two years, then every six months for two years after that. I’ll have MRIs and mammograms on a regular basis during that time as well.
I’m considering a preventative treatment using a drug called Zomeda. It is a drug that has been used for the past 10 years to treat osteoporosis in post-menopausal women. More recently, it has been used in patients whose cancer has metastasized – or spread – to the bone. And even more recently, it has been used proactively on women who have finished breast cancer treatment and face some risk of recurrence. When cancer returns, it often returns to the bone. This drug may inhibit the production of osteoclasts, which break down bone and emit hormones that create tumors. The drug would be administered via IV once every six months for two years. There’s a tiny risk of kidney damage or jaw problems associated with the use of Zomeda, but this has only been seen in people who take it weekly. My dose would be significantly lower, and my risk of these side effects “miniscule,” according to my oncologist. There is actually a trial study going on that uses this drug, along with two oral drugs. I am eligible for the study, but I am leaning toward just using the Zomeda. I am all for furthering scientific study, but when it comes right down to it, I think I’d rather go with a drug that is known to help, rather than take the risk of being assigned to a study group that administers one of the lesser-known drugs. I’m hoping to study up more on Zomeda before I decide to do this. If I choose to, I would start once radiation is complete.
Other than recovering from my final infusion I, along with the rest of the Pacific Northwest, have been trying to stay cool in our 100 degree-plus weather. As I write this, four fans are whirring about me, doing little more than blowing 90 degree air around. Uncomfortable, but hey – it’s SUMMER. This is what I have been waiting for!
The countdown to Maui is on and I’m on track to finish my last two work assignments by Friday. I’m taking it easy in August thanks to a hard-working hubby.
Lunch anyone?

Green Light

2009-07-28T12:21:00.000-07:00

This just in~

Sheila's white blood cell count was at 14.6 WAY up from 2.6 last week.

As she said, "we're ready to roll!"

Stay tuned!

Message to white blood cells: RALLY!

2009-07-22T17:19:00.000-07:00

July 22, 2009

At my Tuesday appointment my labwork indicated that my white cell count dropped again - this, after the promising numbers a week earlier. Frustrating! My dosage Tuesday was reduced by 25 percent and I am giving myself two doses of Neupogen (similar to Neulasta) via injection this coming Sunday and Monday morning. Hopefully this will boost me up so I can complete my last infusion next Tuesday. I really don't want this delayed, so cross your fingers the shots do their job!

I'm off to the support group at Gilda's Club this evening, mostly because they are serving Vietnamese sandwiches. ;)

Oliver is enjoying his summer camp at Kids Inc. - the go on lots of fieldtrips. Monday they rode the Duck and today they visited the Center for Wooden Boats.

Nice hot weather, eh?

Blood Counts: A+

2009-07-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

July 19, 2009

I received good news at my last chemo treatment last Tuesday: both my white and red blood cell counts were well within normal range. The shot of Neulasta and a week off seemed to do the trick. My oncologist was very pleased, and suspects those high counts will hold me through my final infusions. I am down to just two more now – one this Tuesday and one on the 28th.

On Friday, my 3-Day teammate Carol and I co-hosted our much-anticipated Drink Pink Happy Hour at my house to raise money for the 3-Day walk. We were both blown away by the generosity of our friends and family. You guys are phenomenal! The weather was perfect (if not just a bit too hot!) and the company was terrific. We drank pink drinks: cosmos (thanks, Anne S.!), pink champagne, vodka cranberries and pink lemonade. We snacked on fruit (great job, Mom!), veggies, cheese, crackers, chili cheese biscuits (again, thanks Anne S.!) and mini pink cupcakes (kudos, Tina!). The kids cooled off in the inflatable pool out front while the adults socialized and helped us raise money for a worthy cause. Thank you to everyone who attended!

This weekend we are heading over to Spokane for my friend Chelsey’s wedding. We’re looking forward to helping Chels and Santavorn celebrate and showing Oliver around the Gonzaga campus. We’re excited about the hotel pool – it has a slide!

Last night Jason and I corralled our friend Chris and headed off to join friends Kate and Bill (and about 20 others) to sing karaoke at a Ballard dive bar called the Wagon Wheel. We had a blast and had a hard time leaving! I had to get home and get some sleep, though, to prepare me for a 15-mile training walk with Carol this morning. I cut the walk a bit short (probably 11 miles or so?), but Carol kept going. We’re contemplating a couple laps around Green Lake early tomorrow morning. We’re feeling more and more confident that we’ll be able to tackle those 60 miles in September with minimal pain!

The 3-Day organizers have promised to let us know the exact walking route as the event nears. We’d love to have cheerleaders meet us along the way! If you’d like to be on our email list when the route map is released, let me know in a comment or send me an email.

Also, friends and family members are encouraged to write letters or send cards to 3-Day participants. They must be received by Sept. 1 to be delivered during the event. (Envelopes only – no care packages!) If you’d like to send a letter to me (or anyone else on the walk), mail them to:

Breast Cancer 3-Day Camp Post Office
PO Box 78646
Seattle WA 98178

We’re having some great weather in Seattle this summer. I hope those of you here are enjoying it!

A week off, Fourth recap and Happy Hour invite!

2009-07-12T19:13:00.000-07:00

July 12, 2009

Long time since my last post! Last week was a “free” week – no treatment. I have been enjoying the added energy that comes when I don’t have an infusion. As mentioned in my last post, I had a half-dose of chemo on July 1 because my white blood cell count was very low. The following day I went in for a shot of Neulasta – a drug to promote white cell production. All was well until that Thursday, when I got a brutal migraine. That was followed by some pretty severe body aches, apparently side effects of the Neulasta. By day two of our awesome camping trip (see photos below), I was feeling fine and have continued to feel good.

The Fourth of July was spent at the tip of a sand spit on the Key Peninsula – property owned by friends Janice and Chris. We joined about 30 other campers at the property and enjoyed a near-360 degree view of the Puget Sound, 85 degree weather, wonderful camp-mates and some astounding food. The first night we were treated to king salmon, corn, red potatoes and a variety of side dishes. The next night we ate some clams that we dug that day on the beach. Oliver had a great time playing on the beach, messing around with several other kids his age, and riding in various water craft. We were so lucky to be invited to come along on the trip – an annual event that has been going on for the past 22 years!

I have started serious training for the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk. Yesterday I joined a group of about eight people on a 15-mile training walk. It was fun to see some of the same people I trained with several weeks ago (when the walks were a mere eight miles!) and meet some new people. A “pace car” followed us along the six-hour walk manned by a couple generous volunteers and packed full of bagels, bananas, cheese sticks, Chex mix, watermelon and M&Ms (pink, of course!). There was no way we were going to go hungry!

Thanks to my generous friends and family members, I have met my required fundraising goal of $2300 for the walk and am well on my way towards meeting my personal goal of $4000. My teammate Carol and I are co-hosting a fundraising happy hour at my place this Friday, July 17, from 4 to 8 p.m., complete with pink drinks, free childcare, yummy snacks and great company. Visit the Evite (http://www.evite.com/pages/invite/viewInvite.jsp?inviteId=GQUDMGJEIQRECGAXPUKD ) to RSVP – the more the merrier!

Jason and I visited another radiologist to get a second opinion regarding radiation, and it was decided that I would do it. We both agreed that we’d never forgive ourselves if I decided not to go through with the treatment just to avoid the hassle and the cancer returned. I will be starting daily treatments August 31 every weekday for approximately six weeks. Each session lasts only about 10 minutes start to finish and it’s unlikely I will feel any side effects aside from a pretty nasty sunburn towards the tail end of the six weeks.

In other treatment-related news, my last chemotherapy session is scheduled to be July 28, assuming these last three go well and none are postponed. Everyone cross your fingers! I get giddy thinking about this part of the treatment ending. I am so ready for this to end, I can’t even put it into words. I have really been so lucky that I have not had any crazy side effects to the chemo. I’ve heard horror stories of women reacting adversely to the treatment and requiring 24-hour IV drips every week. One woman I see regularly at Swedish got an infection of some sort and has had to have antibiotics administered daily for several weeks.

Math whizzes will notice there’s a month of NO TREATMENTS between the end of my chemo and the start of radiation treatments. Jay and I noticed too, and decided to skip off to Maui for five days! Actually, we have a reason: our friends Kendra and Jason have conveniently scheduled their wedding on the Hawaiian island on August 14. We decided we deserve a quick getaway and promptly booked our flights to help them celebrate.

I’ve been enjoying the great weather we’ve been having this summer and Oliver and I are looking forward to visiting my friend April and her sons Wednesday in Snoqualmie. Thursday we’re hooking up with Miki and her daughter Ava at Golden Gardens for a picnic on the beach.

Friday is the Drink Pink party. Won’t you come raise a glass?

P.S. I love the photo below – Oliver came with me to the hospital for my white cell shot July 2 and noticed several bulletin boards of breast cancer ribbons that family members and friends have posted for their loved ones. Oliver wanted to write my name on one and pin it to the board. He was so proud of himself. As was I.

Tuesdays with Sheila

2009-07-01T22:11:00.001-07:00

Tuesday was another chemo day for Sheila. After a 5 a.m. spin class (her, not me) and a morning smoothie I picked her up at 8:15 for the trek to Swedish Medical. Once again she went through the routine like the star that she is although this day was a bit different.

Our first stop was at the dermatologist to have stitches removed due to a mole removal she had more than a week ago. She is fine, THANKFULLY. But it was quite a scare--the mole had a lot going against it in terms of color, shape, size, etc. but again, NO WORRIES now.

Then the usual routine began--to the lab, see the doc, and then to chemo (pop a pill, receive anti nauseau meds and then the "cocktail" of chemo begins). We spend a lot of time swapping stories, flipping through mags, over hearing conversations of others--some people shoot the breeze as though they were chatting over coffee and others share their very difficult struggles and diagnosis and how hard it is to traverse the path they're on. Sheila handles each step with such grace.

Her white blood count was down some yesterday so she was only able to receive half of her chemo treatment but as one lovley, upbeat, and courageous patient also getting her chemo treatment pointed out to me after we expressed slight disappointment, "A half treatment is better than no treatment; always look for the silver lining in this process."

Sheila went in for a shot early Weds. to help boost her white blood cell count. I shot her a text to check in on her. Her reply: "Doing well! Got shot first thing this a.m. to boost white cells. Feeling Fine!"

Clearly, Sheila is seeking the silver lining herself. Rock on, sister, as you continue to Stomp This!

Flower Power!

2009-06-16T15:33:00.000-07:00

As you can see from the photo above, I decided to ditch the wig for a day. The wedding Jason, Oliver and I attended over the weekend in Steamboat Springs, Colo., called for “creative attire.” I couldn’t think of a better way to make a statement.

The photo below is me with the artist, Dave Hughes. He is a close friend of Jason and also the mastermind behind the “StompThis!” artwork on this blog. Talented, isn’t he?

This was the first time I have left the house without my wig. I rarely even leave the house with a scarf, except to go to the gym. It was pretty scary. I tried to act confident, but I felt really exposed knowing that 100 people were going to be staring at me and wondering what my story was. Countless people came up to me and said they liked it, and even strangers asked me about it. Probably the most memorable was a man, probably 70, who came up to me and could barely speak. He just shook his head over and over and said, “That’s just so great! It’s…just great! God damn it, that’s just so damn great!”

Despite the rave reviews, the wig is back on today and will likely stay there until my hair grows back. Which shouldn’t be long – it’s already starting to come back in pretty quickly.

Back to the wedding. The event was spectacular, and the bride and groom were glowing. We were treated to a two-night stay in a fabulous condo – one of about eight units that were filled with about 80 wedding guests. Each morning, the families of the bride and groom hosted a wonderful breakfast buffet – pancakes one day, breakfast burritos the next. Friday night, we were guests at a barbecue. During the day, we relaxed by the pool. The weather was beautiful the whole time.

We drove to the wedding from Loveland with Jason’s parents, who have known the groom and his family for decades. It was great to have some extra time to visit with them, and fun for Oliver to have Grandma Alice and Grandpa Roger there. The drive home took us through Rocky Mountain National Park and across Trail Ridge Road – at over 12,000 feet, the highest continuously paved road in North America. At the top, we were so high that we were above the tree line. Several feet of snow lined the road, and we hopped out into the 41 degree air so Jason and Oliver could have a quick snowball fight. We took a few photos – look at the majestic mountains in the background!

The night before we left on vacation, I attended my second “Young Survival Coalition” meeting at Gilda’s Club. Again, I was impressed with the group of women. No tears – just a lot of laughs and support. A nutritionist spoke to us for an hour about nutrition for cancer survivors. Most of the information she gave had to do with keeping cancer from recurring or even taking hold in the first place – information relevant for anyone concerned with staying healthy. In my opinion, it doesn’t hurt to hear this information from time to time. I tend to forget how important nutrition is unless I’m reminded every so often. Here are a few things I learned that I’d like to share with you.

Did you know that there was a spike in cancers post-World War II when farming practices changed and chemical use became more prevalent? This was when cows – who traditionally grazed on grass in pastures – were moved into feed lots, fed an unnatural diet of corn, and pumped full of hormones and antibiotics to counteract the cheap and fast feeding methods. Same thing with chickens and pigs: they were put into pens and raised in a new way that was faster and cheaper. In short, humans’ protein sources were now eating cheap, unnatural food. As a result, their flesh (and their products such as milk and eggs) became devoid of essential vitamins like Omega-3 fatty acids that come from grass, bugs, and other natural food sources. Such vitamins are vital in humans, and if the animal flesh doesn’t have them, we aren’t getting them.

The nutritionist who spoke stressed the importance of eating organic animal products. In fact, she said if you make only a slight shift towards an organic lifestyle, it should be with eggs, dairy and meat. It will be more expensive, but view it as an investment in your health. If cost is an issue, set your priorities. You might need to make some sacrifices. Do you need cable television? Those magazine subscriptions? Meat does not have to be central to every meal. Add more vegetables, grains and legumes to your diet instead, and you will barely notice the added expense.

When buying organic food, it’s often tricky to decipher the labels. “Grass-fed beef” may not mean the animal is grazing peacefully in a pasture for its entire life. In fact, it may mean the animal is raised in a feed lot and given dried grass in addition to its corn diet. Below are a few key words to look for when buying organic animal products:

Meat: Look for the labels “100 percent grass fed.” The flesh of cows that eat only grass is almost as rich in Omega-3s as wild salmon!

Chicken/eggs: Seek out those labeled “Free range,” “No antibiotics” and “No hormones.”

Salmon: Always make sure the label says “Wild.” Farmed fish don’t get the same nutrition as wild salmon do. Any fish from Alaska is guaranteed to be wild, as fish farms are not allowed in the state.

This nutritionist’s opinion on supplements mirrors that of my naturopath: try to get as much of your vitamins from food sources themselves. That said, the one supplement she does recommend is fish oil; specifically cod liver oil. Quality is important, she said, and buying reputable brands such as Carlson’s or Nordic Naturals is a good idea. These and other high-quality brands have been tested for purity and are guaranteed to include the nutrients printed on the label. Oftentimes, the label will say if the supplement has been tested. Look for it.

Lastly, the nutritionist stressed the importance of protein in one’s diet as an anti-inflammatory. Low-fat meats and beans are important, as they are good sources of protein. She also mentioned that sugar cravings of those with diets high in protein are greatly reduced! I am giving this a try, as eliminating sugar from my diet continues to be an uphill battle. A high-protein breakfast: eggs, chopped veggies and a little cheese baked in muffin tins at 350 degrees until they stop jiggling when wiggled. These mini-frittatas can be wrapped individually and refrigerated, then heated up in the morning for a quick, high-protein breakfast. I’m going to make some this week!

As I type this, I am at Swedish Medical Center receiving dose seven of Abraxane. After this, just five more to go. The countdown continues…

June 1, 2009

2009-06-01T22:36:00.000-07:00

Update
As I suspected, the Gilda’s Club meeting was much more my speed. The session I attended was for breast cancer patients and survivors under 40. The group was vibrant, fun, fearless and positive thinkers. There were no tears, few complaints and a lot of laughter. It was very casual, and I felt very comfortable. I plan to go back for the next meeting June 10.

I’ve been doing really well since my last post. I backed off the exercise and have been walking daily instead of trying to exercise the way I used to. I have also been napping for about an hour every other day or so. As a result, I’ve had a lot more energy and my blood counts are remaining steady. I did lose my voice over the weekend, however. I’m not sure if it is because of the chemo or a virus. In any case, I’ve spent the past couple days whispering instead of talking.

My mom is coming with me to my sixth infusion tomorrow. After this I will be halfway through the 12 Abraxane infusions! I have the following week off, then only six treatments after this one, with a week break after number nine. After tomorrow, I think I will finally feel like this whole ordeal is winding down instead of dragging on and on.

The three of us are going to a wedding in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, June 11-15. I am looking forward to a vacation – it’s been a long time since we’ve had one!

Something Lost, Something Gained

2009-05-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

May 21, 2009

After trying my hardest to get the hang of meditation, I decided to give it up until another time. I had been taking a Monday night class, but had started becoming very jaded about it. I was putting far too much pressure on myself to “get” it, and it just wasn’t coming. Instead of going to the class with an open mind, I was approaching the process annoyed and frustrated. I couldn’t seem to snap out of my bad attitude, so I decided to stop going. It wasn’t doing me any good to spend two hours angry. I do see the value of it, but just can’t do it right now. I plan to do a little reading about meditation and hopefully pick it up again a few months down the line.

I’ve marked meditation off my list, but decided to take up the support group circuit. I have avoided support groups until now because I did not want to surround myself with more cancer talk. However, I realized I was constantly thinking about cancer anyway, and that it would probably be good to be talking to other people who have been in my shoes. I attended a support group at Swedish yesterday, but it was actually only one other person and myself. The other patient who was there was an annoying Pollyanna who said she is told by all her doctors that she has a fantastic outlook and positive attitude. Well, goody for you. The session was moderated by a social worker intern who could not have been older than 20. When I walked into the room, I felt the same way I do when I walk into the aerobics room and notice there’s a substitute. Trapped, and too late to turn around and leave! I sat through the painful 90 minute session, enduring the awkward pauses and listening to Miss Perfect talk about how she likes to crack jokes with her friends to keep the mood light. Thankfully I am planning to go to different group at Gilda’s Club next Wednesday that is sure to be a little more vibrant. This one is especially for women under 40. I exchanged emails with the group leader, and she said there are four other women with the triple negative diagnosis. I think I will be more comfortable there.

Taking the previous week off was a good decision. I had a ton of energy and felt normal again. When I went in for my infusion Tuesday, my blood counts had gone back up to more normal levels. Oliver came with me to this treatment on the advice of several of the oncology nurses. It was good for him to see what “chemo” really meant. He met a lot of nice people and realized that it’s just not all that exciting! I think he was most excited about taking the morning off school.

Jason and I are looking forward to a Mariners’ game Friday night and a relaxing weekend in the sun!

Minor Setback

2009-05-13T13:28:00.000-07:00

May 13, 2009

Things didn’t go quite as planned at my appointment this Tuesday. I had my port accessed and blood drawn, but when I saw my doctor right before the infusion, he decided to cancel the treatment. My blood counts hadn’t dropped further from the week before (and my white cell count was actually up a point) but my energy level was so low that he said if I went through this treatment without a break, I’d end up a “puddle on the floor.” That didn’t really appeal to me, but neither did canceling the treatment and tacking another week onto the end of my schedule. But so it goes. I do think it is for the best: it’s only Wednesday and already I am feeling like I am getting some energy back. My taste buds seem to be rebounding as well – something had been “off” the past few weeks, and everything just tasted odd. Most people’s weekly treatments include a week off every few treatments, so this isn’t unusual. I guess my doctor was just going to see how much I could take.

I have had to cancel a few appointments and lunch dates in the past week because I have been so tired. I also took on quite a load of work (bad timing!), thinking that this round of treatments would be so much easier. The Abraxane is easier in a way: it doesn’t require the use of steroids to offset nausea, so I don’t feel drugged up and weird. But the steroids with the last round did give me a certain amount of energy for a few days following the treatment. So it is a trade-off. For awhile I was certain that feeling tired would not be such a big deal, but I had forgotten that fatigue takes its toll in many ways: constant headaches, moodiness, forgetfulness, etc. By mid-week last week, I was really getting weary just walking up the hill to Oliver’s bus stop. Last Thursday morning I took a spinning class at the gym and overdid it – I felt horrible the rest of the day and never really snapped out of it. In the past, I have used intense exercise to deal with stress or uneasiness. That outlet it not available to me anymore, and I have yet to find something to replace it. This continues to be a journey.

Call it “chemo brain” or just the effects of being tired, but this situation does produce some light comedy. See below:

I tossed some recyclables into the linen closet instead of the recycle bin.
I put the jam on the pantry shelf instead of in the refrigerator.
I asked my friend Jennifer repeatedly if she really did like sushi, forgetting that our friendship is practically defined by our regular trips to Sushi Land.
I have heated up tea in the microwave a number of times, but have forgotten it is in there until I find the cup sometime around dinnertime.
I got “snack week” at Oliver’s school wrong by an entire week, actually shopping, preparing and sending off snacks for his class one week before I was scheduled.
I called Oliver’s after-school program “Captain Kangaroo” instead of “Captain Caveman,” prompting all sorts of questions and dating myself considerably.

May 6, 2009

2009-05-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

My third abraxane infusion was Tuesday and everything is going fairly well. I still do not have any nausea or “drugged” feelings from this round. My red blood cell count came up a bit, which has kept me from needing a blood transfusion. My white cell count has dropped considerably over the past several weeks, but that can be remedied with a small shot (I had white blood cell booster shots after each AC infusion). As for now, my counts are within range, so no action is being taken.

I have been pretty tired lately, and my energy level is low. I’ve continued to exercise, but it is a lot harder than it has been in the past. Even walking Oliver up the hill to the bus stop gets me winded.

I’ve taken on quite a bit of work, which probably wasn’t the smartest move, but it is keeping me busy and distracted.

Lately I have been really wishing I had my hair back. I am getting very tired of this wig. The novelty has worn off, and it feels ratty and messy. I looked for a new wig at a shop near Pike Place, but they were cheap and looked really fake. I miss putting my hair in a ponytail or styling it. Back when I had hair, I rarely kept the same style or color for more than a couple months. I miss shampoo! Conditioner! Smoothing serum! My hairdryer! Flat iron!

It is so tiring to have a small child amidst all this – especially one as whiney as Oliver. He’s gotten into this habit where he whines at everything and it drives me up the wall.

Saturday I am going on a training walk for the Breast Cancer 3-Day – a group is meeting at Woodland Park and walking seven miles. My teammate, Carol, is coming as well as Brenda (who is volunteering at the 3-Day as a crew member) and Katherine – who we may convince to join out team. Come on, Katherine!!

The rest of the weekend is filled with birthday parties and play dates. Hope the weather is nice!

Costco?

2009-05-01T12:54:00.000-07:00

Things are much better now that I have had a nap...!

Any chance anyone in the area is going to Costco in the next few days? I don't have a membership and would love to get a big bottle of Vitamin D...

Rant

2009-04-29T03:45:00.001-07:00

April 29, 2009

My upbeat, positive-sounding update is the post below this one. This blog is for everyone who thinks I am inspiring, strong and handling this well.

Some nights I don’t sleep. Like tonight. I slept from 10 p.m. until midnight and I’ve been tossing and turning ever since. It is now 3 a.m. And I am going to my 5:45 a.m. spin class if it kills me. It probably won’t kill me, but I won’t be able to finish it and then I’ll be cranky all day because of it.

I take 13 vitamin pills a day in hopes of staying healthy through all this and fending off a recurrence once my treatment is through. In the morning I take a multi-vitamin, vitamin D, a digestive enzyme and a fish oil capsule. I also mix a teaspoon of glutamine into a glass of water and drink it. At lunch I take another digestive enzyme, another fish oil and a CoQ10 pill for my immune system. At dinner it’s another multi-vitamin, another fish oil, another digestive enzyme and more glutamine. Before bed I take two calcium/magnesium capsules and a blood thinner. I rarely make it through the day without forgetting to take at least one group of pills.

Every week or so I read something or visit with a doctor who tells me “studies show” that this, that, or something else has been proven to keep my type of tumor from coming back. So I cut out sugar. And caffeine. And alcohol. I’ve eliminated practically every treat I love so I can keep my fat intake to 32 grams a day. And now I am anemic, so I feel compelled to add meat back into my diet. But then my fat grams will exceed the 32-grams-a-day limit. So I consider iron-rich spinach. But the Vitamin K in spinach tends to thin the blood, which could interact with the effectiveness of the blood thinner I take. As a result, I am constantly overwhelmed and feel like I am eating something wrong.

The soft tissue in my body is irritated from the chemo. Scabs in my nose bleed every morning when I blow it. I’ve had a sore throat for four weeks. I’ll spare you the details of my issues with soft tissue in other areas. I have a rash on my face and my eyes sting for several days after the infusion.

I feel dreadfully ugly much of the time. I’m completely bald and wear a wig every day, except at the gym, when I wear a scarf covered by a cap. And I feel like everyone – or no one – is staring at me. My wig is starting to look dingy and frumpy. I’ve lost a good deal of muscle tone and feel fat. I have an ugly red scar where my breast used to be. I used to feel pretty but I don’t anymore.

I never used to read the obituaries, but I do now. I scan them to find the photos of women who look my age. I read until I find out why they died. Nine times out of ten, it says “breast cancer.”

I’m still pissed we missed our wedding in Hawaii. We not only missed out on two weeks of sun and relaxation, but also a once-in-a-lifetime chance to gather with our families and closest friends in paradise. I’m so angry about this, but have nowhere to place my anger.

When I think about how much longer I have to be in treatment, I feel deflated. I’m still counting up, not down.

Even though the initial panic of having cancer has subsided, it’s always there. It is never far from my mind. Thinking about it is so very. Very. Very. Exhausting.

So there’s the real story. Inspiring? I think not. Normal? Probably. As bad as it sounds? Not really – I just feel the need to vent when I don’t get enough sleep.

Two down, 10 to go!

2009-04-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

April 28, 2009

Today was my second of 12 weekly Abraxane appointments. I handled the first one very well and expect that the second will be similar. I did not have the chemical, drugged feeling I had with the AC treatments, but I was more tired than I had been with past treatments. My blood draw indicated that I am anemic, which probably has a lot to do with the fatigue and low energy. My red blood cell numbers are supposed to be between 36 and 45 and mine are 28. My oncologist is “keeping an eye on it” for now and hoping they come back up next week. In the mean time, I will be trying to eat meat, spinach, beans, iron-fortified cereal and other high-iron foods. I don’t usually eat much meat and have continued to stay away from it since I am supposed to follow this low-fat diet. This complicates things, but vegetarians manage to keep their iron up without eating meat, so maybe I can too. If my counts drop further, I will need a blood transfusion. Ugh – I don’t want to even think about that.

My neighbor Andy and I signed up for a six-week meditation class on Monday nights. My first class was last night and I think it will prove to be really helpful. The teacher spoke a lot about living in the moment and experiencing life now, instead of altering the experience with thoughts of the past and future “what ifs”. I am the worst offender: “What if the cancer comes back?” “What if these infusions make me more and more tired every week?” “What if…?” I am trying to learn to do what I can to stay healthy, then stop creating anxiety by thinking about things that are out of my control. Easier said than done!

The trip down south to Vancouver was a great recharge. Oliver had a blast playing with Tami’s kids and I, of course, enjoyed visiting with my former college roommate. We’re planning another trip soon – this time on the train! We went to a fun birthday party Saturday night in Camas where I met some members (Tami’s friends and former co-workers) of my “StompThis” Vancouver Fan Club! A shout out to all my faithful readers!

More appointments and general health-related things this week and next, with a few lunches and get-togethers with friends thrown in. I received three freelance job requests today, so I am starting to ramp up my work a little more. Fingers crossed that I can keep those red cell counts up and stomp the remaining 10 weeks!

Abraxane Update

2009-04-22T11:47:00.000-07:00

I had my first Abraxane infusion yesterday. This was the first of 12 weekly infusions, and it marks the conclusion of the prior eight weeks of two different chemo drugs. So far, the promises made by the doctors, nurses and past patients have been true - the side effects are pretty mild. A small amount of pre-meds were put into my IV before the Abraxane, which are expected to last two days. The chemo medicine itself was very minimal - instead of a big bag of drugs coupled with two tubes of red liquid, the Abraxane is a tiny pouch of cloudy yellow liquid. Much less ominious than the "red devil." By Thursday those will wear off and I will feel the side effects, if any. With this drug I do not have to take any anti-nausea meds by mouth, so hopefully that will eliminate the mood swings and chemical-ly feelings I experienced with the first round.

The side effects that most people experience with this drug are fatigue and mild neuropathy (tingling) in the fingers and toes. At the encouragement of both my naturopath and my oncologist, I have been taking Glutamine powder twice a day to offset these symptoms. The neuropathy is cumulative, so typically people start feeling some discomfort by the third week of treatment. If it gets too painful, the chemo dosage is reduced the following week. If the neuropathy is not monitored, it could become permanent. I have hope that the Glutamine - as well as the reflexology treatments I've bumped up to one a week to stimulate the nerves in the hands and feet - will keep this from becoming a problem.

As long as I feel good, Oliver and I are planning to head down south to Vancouver this weekend to visit my friend Tami from college, as well as her husband, Rich, and kids Megan and Spencer. We'll load Oliver's bike into the car and hopefully spend the weekend watching the kids ride around in the cul de sac while we visit, rest up, and maybe even do some cooking.

Prevention information and radiation

2009-04-17T12:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Jason and I met with a radiologist to help us decide whether or not I will need radiation treatment following chemotherapy. As mentioned in my previous post, radiation is recommended if the tumor is bigger than five cm with more than four cancerous lymph nodes involved. Long story short, this radiologist recommended radiation for me (and for anyone with any lymph node involvement at all, per two new comprehensive studies). More on radiation later.

The most interesting part of the two-hour consult was not that recommendation, however, but the doctor’s wealth of information regarding diet and lifestyle for women with triple negative tumors (like me). Only 15 percent of breast cancer patients have these types of tumors, which are not fueled by estrogen. Most of the things you hear on the news and in magazines about breast cancer pertain to the 85 percent of women with estrogen positive tumors. While estrogen fueled tumors can sometimes be attributed to things such as having children later in life, taking estrogen supplements or not breastfeeding, tumors such as mine just seem to happen for no reason other than a freak mutation. The doctor also said that the tumor had probably been growing for 10 to 15 years.

There are a few crucial things that have been proven to help kill these cancer cells and keep them from returning. The first, of course, is chemotherapy. Apparently going through chemo is pretty crucial for women with triple negative tumors, since any of these fast-growing, aggressive rouge cells that may have been floating around after the mastectomy respond particularly well to chemo. This was good to hear, since at times I have wondered if I really needed to be going through all this. Also, a low-fat diet (less than 32 grams a day) has been proven to keep triple negative tumors at bay. Bye bye, Starbucks scones (sniff). High doses of Vitamin D are also very important. Apparently, virtually NO ONE in the Pacific Northwest has enough Vitamin D in our bodies, since we get it from mainly from sunlight. Did you know our region has one of the highest rates of breast cancer AND multiple sclerosis, both which have been linked to low levels of Vitamin D? Even when it is sunny here, we don’t get much D since we are far from the equator. The radiologist suggested trips to southern California and spending 20 minutes in the sun before applying sunscreen each day. I asked if Hawaii would work, and he said absolutely! Thirty minutes of Hawaiian sun gives your body 20,000 units of Vitamin D, which is stored in the body and is beneficial for months. Isn’t that enough reason to go? Most people taking Vitamin D supplements get only 1,000 units a day, which still is rarely enough. At my next blood draw, I am getting my Vitamin D levels measured so I can make sure I am getting plenty. Vitamin D is also important in the prevention of other types of cancer, so men should take note as well!

We also discussed breast cancer screening methods for younger women. For those with dense breast tissue, mammograms are NOT ENOUGH! I am the perfect example. I had a mammogram one month before I found this tumor myself. Typical mammograms just can’t see through dense tissue, and the health care community has not done anything yet to respond to this issue. So ladies, it is up to us to watch out for our own care. A DIGITAL mammogram is better than conventional mammograms at picking up problems, so ask for that when before you schedule your appointment. And if the mammogram sees anything worth looking at twice, don’t settle for a just a follow-up mammogram. Demand an MRI, which uses magnetic imaging to see even the smallest beginnings of a tumor. They’re expensive, though, and it’s likely your health care provider will try and talk you out of it. So throw a fit. Cry if you must. Act paranoid and unstable so that the doctor’s only choice is to schedule an MRI, lest you start stalking him at his home. Offer to pay for it yourself. This is your life. I was called back for a second look at my right breast one year ago, and had only a second mammogram. The results showed that the suspicious area was only a shadow on the film. Well, tat “suspicious area” was in the exact same place as the tumor that I found a year later. I try not to think about where I would be today if I had known what I know now and insisted on an MRI. I’m pretty sure I would have ended up having only a lumpectomy and no chemo. It’s difficult to look back at that time, because this cancer would have been caught early had more detailed screening methods been used.

Regular breast exams by someone who performs them more than 10 times a day is critical as well. Experienced doctors know what to look for and know what cancer feels like. Do your homework and make sure your care provider is experienced.

So, back to the radiation issue. I will be undergoing radiation once the chemo is complete in July. Studies show that there is a 22 percent chance of recurrence in the chest wall. Radiation that is administered well can take that number down to two percent. It will likely start three weeks after my last chemo session. I’ll be getting treatment five days a week for six and a half weeks. Each session lasts only about 10 minutes and side effects are minimal (some fatigue and a sunburn on the treatment area). A CT scan is performed first to plan the radiation field.

That’s the latest. I start my second round of chemo treatment on Tuesday the 21st. Here’s hoping the worst is behind me!

Infusion Update

2009-04-10T21:37:00.000-07:00

April 10, 2009

My fourth of four AC infusions was Tuesday and it was a doozey. I am so thankful that the next 12 are supposed to be much easier. I can’t imagine another going through more infusions like the AC. It hasn’t been terrible, but this last one certainly has been the toughest yet. The drugs tend to build up in your system, so the severity of the symptoms came as no big surprise. I hadn’t been too affected up until this point, but the nausea has been pretty constant this go-round. I am trying hard to remember that within a few days it will subside and I will feel back to normal again.

There’s been a slight change in the treatment schedule. I still have 12 sessions to go, but instead of taking the drug Taxol, I will be given something called Abraxane instead. The base drug is exactly the same, but the difference is the type of drug that accompanies it. With Taxol, a toxic solvent is used to dissolve the Taxol so that it can be effectively broken down and delivered to the cancer cells. This solvent can be pretty hard on the system, so patients are typically instructed to take massive doses of the steroid Decadron (to control nausea) the day before and the day of the infusion. Abraxane, on the other hand, does not require such a toxic solvent to break down the drug, so very little steroid is required. During the AC infusions, I have been taking Decadron for four days after the infusion, slowly tapering off by the weekend. I hate the effect the steroid has on me, and I have complained to my doctor about it. This is why he decided to switch me to the Abraxane for these next infusions. Apparently Abraxane is a newer drug than Taxol, but it has been showing very favorable results. I also have heard it is quite a bit more expensive than Taxol, but I expect that my insurance will cover it – they’ve been great so far with all the treatments and expenses.

I am really happy to have been switched to this different drug. By all accounts, this second phase (even if I was taking Taxol instead of Abraxane) is supposed to be much easier to deal with. According to my doctor, there will be no medications to control nausea, as it is rarely an issue. Many patients experience neuropathy (tingling) in the fingertips and toes. Both my oncologist and naturopath have suggested taking Glutamine – a powder that you mix with water and drink twice a day – to offset the symptoms. I have started taking this in preparation for the Abraxane infusions, which will be Tuesdays starting April 21.

Jason and I are celebrating the end of this first round of chemotherapy with dinner at Canlis on Saturday, April 18. For those of you unfamiliar with Canlis, it is considered the best restaurant in Seattle (http://www.canlis.com/). It will be a treat, but one that is well-deserved. It will mark the end of Phase I and the beginning of the countdown to the end of this entire ordeal.

Still a possibility once the chemo is through is radiation therapy, which is usually a cut-and-dried decision. Radiation is usually prescribed for breast tumors that are bigger than five cm with more than four cancerous lymph nodes. I do not fall into that category, but one of my two cancerous lymph nodes was 5 cm – almost twice the size of the breast tumor and a bit of an anomaly. My oncologist took my case to a board of his colleagues, who did not come to a consensus on radiation treatment. So, I have made an appointment to consult with a leading radiologist at Evergreen Medical Center in Kirkland on April 16. I am hoping he can shed some light on the subject. If radiation is recommended, I would be receiving daily treatments of radiation over the course of about six weeks. Each treatment is only about 10 minutes, but what a hassle! Radiation also causes some fatigue and burning to the skin. But if it is recommended, I will go through with it.

I want to thank all my escorts who have made my chemo treatments much easier by keeping me company! My next six infusions have been scheduled and I already have a terrific team signed up to accompany me on many of the days. It’s hard to put into words what a support you have all been for me during this time. I always knew I had a terrific group of friends and family. Things like this just make it all the more clear.

Stay Abreast Update

2009-04-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

Sheila has completed the first four MAJOR chemos. I saw her today and she is still moving through this ordeal with grace and poise (as is her mom who looked beautiful this morning herself). Bless them.

I've updated Sheila's next round of chemo appts. They are her abraxine infusions which she will elaborate on in another post. Please see the schedule and escort needs in the "Stay Abreast" tab on the right hand side of this blog.

I know you will continue to keep her in your thoughts, hearts, prayers, etc. Last night Sheila had a great deal of nausea (she had chemo yesterday) and thanks to her mom and her aunt (who is a pharmacist and could offer some solid advice) she managed to take an anti-nausea pill and feel somewhat better.

All for now...k

Some nutritional information

2009-03-31T13:00:00.000-07:00

March 31, 2009

I thought I would share some helpful information from my naturopath. I had a follow-up appointment yesterday and we discussed an antioxidant diet and lifestyle. Once I start my Taxol treatments, I will be able to really shore up my immune system (while on the AC treatments, excess antioxidants are discouraged, because they interfere with the particula chemo drugs used.) I appreciate the approach my naturopath takes: she believes that trendy antioxidant drinks and supplements are not nearly as effective as getting those cancer-fighting vitamins and minerals from real food.

I thought I would make a short list of cancer-fighting foods that are easy to work into your diet. With summer coming up and farmers’ markets on every corner, what a good excuse to buy a flat of raspberries and snack away!

Green tea (whole leaf is best)
Raspberries
Blueberries
Cherries
Strawberries
Broccoli
Kale
Brussels sprouts
Walnuts
Brazil nuts (just three nuts gives you enough selenium for the day)

See? Wasn’t that easy? Rebecca H.-P. turned me on to the frozen berries at Trader Joe’s. In the evening, I mix together some frozen blueberries, strawberries, raspberries and cherries and let them thaw in a bowl. Then I pour a tablespoon of heavy cream over the top and drizzle it with the tiniest bit of honey (really, less than ¼ teaspoon). It’s even good without the cream and honey. Oliver loves this. He scrapes the bowl with his spoon for so long we have to take the bowl away.

Kale is full of antioxidants and easy to make as a side dish. Just chop up a bunch of the leaves, boil them until soft, then sautee them in some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic and red onion. A great side dish!

Green tea is probably the best antioxidant. The rate of cancer in Japan is incredibly low, and studies are showing that green tea is one reason. (A diet high in Omega-3s such as salmon, mackerel and sardines is another, but I have yet to incorporate fish into our diet – but I’m working on it!) The low cancer rate is apparently NOT hereditary: within a generation, Japanese people who come to America have the same rate of cancer as we Americans. That says something about our diet, no?

There are a couple tea places in Ballard and a great one on Queen Anne (http://seattleteacup.com/Merchant2/merchant.mvc). Go. Get some. Brew it up in the morning and have a couple cups. Invest in a teapot and keep in on your desk at work.

Checking in - March 27

2009-03-27T09:24:00.000-07:00

March 27, 2009

Just checking in since my last infusion on Tuesday. It’s been a little bit rougher than the first two, but still manageable. My stomach has been a little more upset than last time, but juices and teas have helps quell the nausea. My medications taper off today (Friday), but I do have some back-up on hand that I haven’t used yet. It may come in handy this weekend. I am also keeping busy these next couple days. Oliver and I are joining some friends for a children’s concert at McCaw Hall Saturday, then Sunday Rebecca H.-P. and I are enjoying dim sum in the ID (preceded, hopefully, by a brisk walk with my Sunday Morning Running Group). That evening, Oliver has a gymnastics birthday party to attend – I’ve had a generous offer from an already-busy mom (thanks, Monica!) to take Oliver if I’m not feeling well, but I’d like to try and go (and maybe swing by a Starbucks to read and enjoy some quiet time while the kids play.)

And of course, tonight is the big Zags game! Whether I stay home or join some friends to watch it, I am sure it will be a nail biter.

Here’s hoping the typically rough weekend passes without much fanfare and I can start feeling better next week. I have one more of the “rough” infusions April 7, then things should get easier with the 12 weekly taxol treatments. I met a woman during my last infusion who was on her 11th taxol treatment. She said those were much easier and her hair even started growing back! Something to look forward to (although these wigs make getting ready in the morning pretty easy!)

A Hair Shaving Experience

2009-03-19T17:09:00.000-07:00

March 19, 2009

I am bald.

The moment I had feared from Day One has come. My hair started thinning around Day 17 of treatment, just as I had heard. By last Friday, my hair was coming out in handfuls and it was pretty difficult to take. Hair was everywhere – all over my clothes, covering my pillow and threatening to clog up the shower drain. That evening, with clippers in hand, Jason shaved my head on the back porch. My friend, Wendy, was there with the camera, but I’m not bold enough to post the images yet! I watched Jason with the clippers in a mirror. I wanted to see what was happening and didn’t want the all-at-once shock of seeing a bald head peering back at me in the mirror. I certainly didn’t like what I saw (and I still don’t!) but Jason insists I have a fabulously shaped head. A few days later, when the stubble wasn’t coming out, we took some duct tape and cleaned up my head! I still have patches of stubble, but most of it is gone. It’s pretty shocking to see myself in the mirror in the morning, but it’s getting easier. I have a few fun wigs that look pretty natural and, paired with hats, I feel comfortable out and about. I went to the gym with just a cap on Wednesday morning, and no one stared! I think I am overestimating others’ interest in my appearance. I think it’s true: most people are so wrapped up in themselves – especially at the gym – that they rarely notice the appearance of others!

Like the first round of chemo, I found that the nausea is well controlled while I’m on the anti-nausea medication, but tougher once it wears off. I had a few rough spots on days five, six and seven, but by day eight I was feeling back to normal. I do have some Zofran that I can take during those times, and I think I’ll take some next round. Feeling “off” physically just throws me off mentally and emotionally as well.

Next infusion is March 24 – Rebecca H.-P. is joining me.

Second Infusion – Update

2009-03-12T18:48:00.000-07:00

Once again be prepared to be left in tears and a state of awe...Sheila does not disappoint. Birthday wishes to beautiful six year old O (and an extra snug for the mama who brought him into our world), special hopes of good times with friends this weekend, and may your belly feel well and your energy level & spirits soar, girl.

Sheila writes:

I had my second chemotherapy infusion Tuesday and it went very well. My appointment ran quite late, so by the time I got home, I had a quick bite to eat, then went to bed fairly early. Wednesday morning I had a quick shot at the docs to boost my white cell count, then took a brisk walk with my mom up to the post office to mail my tax packet to my accountant in Bellevue. We also stopped and got some things for Oliver’s little birthday celebration Saturday and swung by the wig shop on Phinney Ridge to pick up my wig!

This wig is really great. It’s a synthetic wig, but it looks very shiny and real. It matches my hair color almost exactly, and the style is what I aspire to on a good hair day. It was a real morale boost to see that it looked very cute and natural. I have also borrowed a real-hair wig from a friend that is darker and longer than my hair, but quite cute as well, especially with a knit cap over the top.

Over the past few days, my hair has been coming out. Each time I run my fingers through it, out come about 20 strands. In the shower, it’s even more dramatic. It’s feeling a bit thinner to me, and at this rate, we’ll probably have to go ahead and shave it before the end of the week. This is the one part of the treatment so far I have been dreading the most, but over the past few weeks, I have thought about it a lot and generally come to terms with it. Getting this wig today with my mom has really helped me feel better about things. Stay tuned – if I’m brave enough, I may post some photos.

My fatigue and nausea so far (day 3) has been very minimal. Knock on wood, but I have been feeling much better than I did immediately after the initial infusion two weeks ago. A lot of that has to do with my anxiety level, I’m sure. The first time, I was very scared and did not know what to expect. After the first infusion I was tired and a bit nauseous, which actually got worse on days 5 and 6 (the weekend). By last Sunday night, I was feeling stronger, and I spent much of the remaining week feeling good. By last Wednesday I felt completely normal. I was very pleased to have bounced back as I did, as many people on chemo do not. I’d like to attribute it to my overall good health, but I do think my vitamins, exercise, acupuncture and reflexology play a part as well. I have been walking and working out on the cycle at the gym as often as possible, and have been instructed by my PT to do some light exercise when I feel tired. Studies have shown that light exercise helps with fatigue, while heavy exercise tends to adversely affect the immune system in chemo patients. I’m glad I learned this, as I would probably tend to push myself as much as I could, thinking I was doing myself a favor. It’s hard to sit on the spin bike at the gym, listening to my spin songs, and not want to work at a “level 10.”

Acupuncture is still going well – I had another appointment this morning. I’m still slightly skeptical, since it seems that the doctor doesn’t really do much while I’m there, but I’m committed. Relexology, as I mentioned in the last blog, was terrific – I have another session Friday. It was the most relaxing treatment I think I have ever had – even more relaxing than a full body massage. I did find some relieve from nausea after my treatment.

For those of you who had heard, Emma, my 19 year old cat, was on death’s door last weekend (which probably had a lot to do with my physical and mental fatigue during that same time). She’s not been well, and has suffered stroke-like symptoms over the past couple months, but had bounced back. She took ill again a couple weeks ago, but thanks to several saline infusions, bloodwork, and some antibiotics administered by my best friend Shannon (a phenomenal veterinarian and the only one I would entrust my treasured pets to!), Emma has bounced back to her somewhat frail, usually asleep, often yowling, deaf, 19-year-old self. I know she’s not long for this world, but Dr. Shannon gave her a new lease on life, and for that, I will FOREVER be thankful!

I’m looking forward to a visit from Wendy (dear friend from Minneapolis, fellow cancer survivor and author of this blog’s The Weekly Rap) tonight. She’s flying standby, thanks to Lynae, who is a manager at Alaska Airlines. Friday, Oliver turns six, and he’s having a small gathering of friends here Saturday morning. At his request, he’s being paid a visit from The Bubbleman (http://www.bubbleman.com/) a quirky fellow you’re familiar with only if you have young children!
Oliver’s been lucky enough to have some fun playdates this week – yesterday with his buddy Samuel, and today with his beloved preschool teacher Anne. What a lucky boy! And what a lucky mom and stepdad, who are able to catch some rest while O is off at play. We have all been enjoying the generosity of our friends, who have come over and made our beds, sent us amazing meals, delivered stunningly beautiful bouquets, send hilarious artwork and letters from my grade school days, and kept in touch via phone, cards and calls.
I’m completely jazzed that the sun is out, and hoping it holds through Oliver’s birthday Saturday.

Crossing fingers my energy level holds steady so I can attend Lara’s “X”ortieth birthday party Sunday (in honor of Lara, I’m not saying the “f” word either!)
Busy week, but lots to look forward to!

Checking In and Updating You All

2009-03-04T20:50:00.001-08:00

Hi everyone – thought I’d better check in and let everyone know how I am doing. Things went better than expected following the chemotherapy last Tuesday. I experienced hardly any nausea – the medications they gave me worked great. I was on those meds for four days, then off by Saturday. That’s when the fatigue really set in. That took me off guard – I had been prepared for nausea, but not prepared to feel as weak and tired as I did. The weekend was difficult, but I started feeling much better Sunday night and things are going well now. I have this week off, then have my next infusion next Tuesday, March 10. I am still experiencing bits of light nausea here and there, but nothing bad enough to do anything about.

On an interesting note, I had my first reflexology appointment tonight. Reflexology is the therapeutic method of relieving pain by stimulating pressure points on the feet. My 90 minute appointment was amazing. So very relaxing. I do feel that it helped quell some nausea I had been experiencing, but moreover, I left feeling incredibly light and relaxed. I am definitely going back next week for another appointment.

This week I also had a physical therapy and counseling appointment, both part of the ACTIVE program at Swedish. The program is for people who are anxious to get back into an exercise routine. I did some arm exercises to help loosen up my shoulder and also saw a counselor to talk about cancer-related fears and concerns. Both were great appointments, and I go back for another session tomorrow (Thursday). I’m also back to see my acupuncturist Friday.

I have also been doing a little work (in between appointments!) and that’s felt great. It is nice to get back into the work groove a bit – I do love routine. I also appreciate the diversion and the adrenaline rush from trying to get everything done by deadline.

Thank you to everyone for the cards, emails, meals and favors that keep on coming. It’s so nice to know I’m in your thoughts!

Staying Strong

2009-03-03T23:57:00.001-08:00

I saw Sheila on Monday for a couple of appointments. She looked young and fit. She felt a bit tired. She is staying busy and strong and inspiring as ever. I will report in further as news arises (or I will post something from her if she writes soon). Until then- keep the positive mojo flowing...
k

Meal Plans and More

2009-02-24T22:36:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Yesterday was Sheila's first round of chemo. Late in the afternoon she was OK but feeling a bit "off" --weak with low energy. She is armed with a slew of anti nausea meds she'll be taking through Friday. She did have a few hours of nauseau but forced herself to eat some soup despite it.

I just spoke with her again now...she is very sleepy but still strong and plugging along. She had a tough go of it when she got to chemo yesterday as they had some portacath issues plus the anxiety of the unknown but once again she persevered. She sounded really well on the phone (again, a bit sleepy) so hopefully she can lay low for the next two days and regain her strength as her body is STOMPING THIS.

Sending her all our best...will keep you posted on our dear one.

Sheila's good friend, Val, created some monthly calendars featuring Sheila's appointment dates. For now the appointment dates can also be seen under Stay Abreast on the right side of this blog.

Val wanted people to know they can sign up to bring Sheila and family dinner, escort her to applicable appointments, clean their house, etc. All ideas welcome and I will have Sheila CANDIDLY tell me and/or Val what does and doesn't work.

Ideally meal delivery dates are best on Tues. and Thurs. of chemo weeks. In terms of food--lots of veggies, tofu, white rice, fruits. I am ordering from https://www.delicious-planet.com/ (organic meals delivered to your home) so they can pick and choose what they like.

quick side note: While I know they will be grateful with anything you provide for them I do advise more organic, healthier (less processed) the better. Be aware that Sheila is too polite to state this but when she discussed creating a blog with me she knew she was getting a vocal friend who is a huge believer in transparency.

I know Rebecca P. mentioned creating a calendar as well so there may be a way to upload one on here or have a link to one where people can add their names to help with needs (holler, techies, if there is a way to do so as I do not know how to!)

For now, please email Val at VDonlan@its.jnj.com to plug in a date where you can help. Stay tuned for a calendar online if I can make it happen.

Peace to you...k

Portacath --update

2009-02-23T16:53:00.000-08:00

Sheila reports that the Portacath placement went well. The nurses had a hard time (as unfortunately is always the case with her) getting an IV line to administer the happy drugs. It held up for awhile, but stopped delivering the drugs about halfway through the procedure. She says she was never “out of it” at all, but was numbed for the procedure. As has been typical throughout her journey--she said the fear of what was to come was much worse than the actual procedure itself.

She is back home and sounded great via phone this afternoon.

Keep the positive vibes flowing!

Sheila Post!

2009-02-23T16:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday as my former neighbor and long-time friend Rebecca Pompon and I were driving back from our long-standing Sunday grocery shopping trip, the subject of belief and spirituality arose. Rebecca’s always a terrific person with whom to discuss human behavior, religion and the ways of the world in general, and yesterday was no exception. She was recalling a discussion she had with a friend about how to cope with difficult situations; in particular, the recent news of a relative’s dire illness. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be the type of person who could just ‘put it in the hands of God?’” her friend asked Rebecca wistfully. “To just be able to say, ‘God will handle everything.’”

“Actually, no,” Rebecca had answered her friend, which sparked an interesting exchange between the two of us – so interesting, that our previous conversation about the tasty risotto corn cakes we’d had for lunch was all but forgotten. “I think I’d rather be able to feel like I was actively doing something to deal with the situation. Handing it over to God seems like giving up control.”

Control. The word, by its very nature, is a strong one. I completely understood what Rebecca was saying. I am also not a person who believes so strongly in a higher power that I can ultimately put my fate into its hands. Like Rebecca’s friend, I have often wished I was – it would make for a lot fewer restless nights. But on the other hand, I have always been someone who needs to have a handle on the outcomes of situations. I’ll squirm in my seat and finally blurt out “turn HERE!!” when Jason is driving, even though I know he may have a different route in mind. I need to know the exact location of the remote control at all times. And don’t try surprising me by taking me out to dinner to a “special place.” I need to know where we’re going so I can be prepared!

Getting a disease like cancer – in which body parts are removed, skin is repeatedly pierced, and nausea is induced every other week for a number of months – is difficult for control freaks like me. Knowing that errant cancer cells may be staking out my internal organs and planning a sneak attack is disconcerting to say the least. We arm ourselves with green tea, Brussels sprouts and the city’s best oncologists and hope for the best. We swallow fish oil pills the size of the fish themselves and study meditative practices, all while trying to push thoughts of our looming mortality from our minds.

I had a procedure at Swedish today called a “portacath placement” in which a surgeon inserts a small, quarter-sized device just under the skin near the collarbone. It remains in place for the duration of chemotherapy treatment so an IV line can be placed directly into a vein through the portacath, eliminating those repeated piercings I mentioned earlier. It’s a day surgery that employs “conscious sedation” instead of a general anesthetic. Instead of being completely unconscious, I would be given a drug that the nurses told me would make me “not care” about the knives, tubes and other scary things being wielded above me.

“But what if the drugs don’t work and I do care, right in the middle of the procedure?” I asked.

The nurse, well-meaning but obviously missing the true nature of my question, tried to assure me.

“We won’t start the procedure until we’re sure the drugs are working,” she said. “It’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable. I promise you, you won’t feel a thing.”

It wasn’t the physical pain I was concerned about. In fact, if I had my way, I would have opted for just a local anesthetic and no drugs at all. My biggest fear was being sedated to the extent that I could not convey a need to the nurses. What if my heart started racing, but I was so doped up I couldn’t tell them? Or if I suddenly lost my sight or started choking? Or if I started to panic but couldn’t move my body? I’d be too sedated to bring it to their attention.

It all comes back to control. Or the lack of it, over these past several weeks. I’ve been driven places, excused from obligations and told to take naps. Before my diagnosis, that would have sounded like pure heaven. But being faced with something that takes your day-to-day routine and turns it on its head? It sucks rocks. Big time. Will I be able to go to Dom and Lynna’s wedding in Steamboat Springs in June? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how the chemo goes. Will I be able to keep going to my spinning classes? That’s probably a decision my doctor – not me – will have to make.

As time goes on, I do think this experience – as scary and uncertain as it may be - will serve me well in the end. I may not put my situation in the hands of a higher power, but putting it somewhere besides my shoulders every now and then is not such a bad thing.

And a nap would actually feel pretty good.

Apply Within

2009-02-21T09:09:00.001-08:00

Here's some news from Sheila--she's doing well and BUSY

I am officially in need of a personal assistant!

Not really, but the combination of conventional and non-traditional treatment I have chosen to pursue has meant my next few months are filled with appointments and procedures. I’m lucky and thankful that I am able to scale back work a bit to accommodate this new lifestyle.

I came away from my visit to my oncologist on Thursday with an entire page of appointments from now until April. My first round of chemotherapy will start next week (Feb. 24) preceded by the portacath placement the day before (Feb. 23). I will receive an infusion of two drugs every other week for eight weeks (four treatments). After that, I will receive a weekly infusion of a third drug for 12 weeks. If there are no changes to the schedule, I will finish up chemo on August 4, a few days before my birthday.

There was some uncertainty whether or not I would receive daily radiation treatments for several weeks after my chemo is finished. The size of one lymph node that was removed prompted my oncologist to bring the issue to a weekly meeting of his colleagues. The consensus was mixed, with some experts opting for radiation and others saying it wouldn’t be necessary. I will be consulting with a radiation therapist sometime in the next few months to come up with a plan. One drawback of radiation for women who have had a large number of lymph nodes removed (I had 23) is that there is the possibility of edema (swelling) of the arm.

I also visited an acupuncturist and set up an appointment with a reflexologist, both in an attempt to offset the near certain nausea that will accompany the first four chemo infusions. I saw the acupuncturist today. The 45 minute appointment consisted of two needle placements in my ankle, the placement of a heat lamp over my abdomen, a lot of hand movements over my entire body and some gentle pressure on my neck. At the very end of my session, the acupuncturist put his finger on my jaw, said “tooth,” and walked out of the room. When I met him in his office after the treatment, I asked him what he meant by that. “Inflammation,” he said. “Not big, but you get it checked.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. I have been putting off a visit to the dentist for several months, and had recently started feeling a bit of sensitivity in one of my molars. How in the world did he know this? I asked him. “I see it,” said the man of few words. I’m not sure if he meant that literally or figuratively, but it was enough to convince me that he is, at the very least, extremely in tune with his patients. My oncologist had told me not to get my teeth cleaned during treatment, but I called my dentist (who, luckily, is also a friend) and she is going to check out my tooth Saturday.

I also ventured into the world of wigs this week. I tried one on at a shop up on Phinney Ridge. It was actually adorable and very real looking. I also visited with a patient navigator (aka social worker) at the Swedish Cancer Education Center this week, and was given a brand new, real-hair wig, compliments of Pantene and the American Cancer Society. It needs to be trimmed and styled, and I plan to take it to a woman who does this often in the next week or so. I was touched by the generosity of the American Cancer Society. They have a collection of wigs (some nicer than others) that they give out free to cancer patients. They also have a program called Look Good, Feel Great, in which make-up artists show cancer patients (and a guest) how to apply make up and style wigs during the chemo process. The free class includes $200 in free make up (anyone want to join me?). My dear friend Lara has also offered to lend me her platinum blonde pageboy wig, so I guess I have no excuse for looking frumpy! I also got the name of a wig place downtown that carries goofy and fun wigs (field trip, April?).

My preschool mom friend Carol (and college acquaintance) reconnected me with a mutual friend who recommended a reflexologist in Greenwood, whom I will see in two weeks. Reflexology involves the stimulation of the feet. It is used to cure a number of ailments, but I am hoping it provides some nausea relief. (And a great excuse for a soothing foot rub!) I will be given a steroid to take after the infusion, but it is my hope that I can use natural methods as much as possible.

On a lighthearted note, Jason and I are heading to Palisades Saturday evening for our long-awaited wedding dinner – the one we had to miss because of the accident on the Ballard Bridge. I’m also looking forward to a relaxing weekend in preparation for an uncertain week. Hasn’t the weather been beautiful?

See "Stay Abreast" Button on the front page of this blog for Sheila's latest appointment schedule

Correction and a Toast to the Mystery Gifter (revealed)

2009-02-16T21:16:00.000-08:00

In this latest post Sheila clears some things up (sorry for the confusion I caused regarding the fundraiser) and a code was broken.

Here goes--

Many of you were confused (understandably) by the post awhile back (http://stompthis.blogspot.com/2009/02/breast-cancer-fundraiser.html#links) that talks about a fundraising climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro. This is not me making the climb – it is a friend of my aunt’s. Although I’d love to climb a mountain in July, I doubt I’ll be up for it! It is a good cause, though, and one I would recommend supporting if you are so inclined.

Also, my friend Brenda Marshall outed herself as the mystery champagne gifter. We had to miss a much-anticipated dinner at Palisade the night of our wedding because of a car accident on the Ballard Bridge that brought traffic to a standstill. We heard through the grapevine that someone had bought us a bottle of champagne to enjoy at dinner. Brenda let me know it was her. Not only did she bring the bottle to the restaurant, she also made special arrangements with the wait staff and pastry chef to bring us four specially made chocolate desserts. We’re still heartbroken that we had to miss this extra-special dinner, but warmed by the kindness of Brenda. Thank you, my Saturday morning workout partner!

Escorts Welcome...

2009-02-15T17:58:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Sheila starts chemotherapy Feb. 24 (instead of early March as had been planned).

Apparently there was a scheduling conflict with the surgeon putting in the portacath.
The portacath will be put in Monday, Feb. 23, and chemo starts the next day, Tuesday, Feb. 24.

Jason will take care of Sheila for the Feb. 23 and Feb. 24 appointments. Stay tuned if she wants escorts on any following chemo appts. as we will let you know on here. She wants to get through the first two and go from there.

It appears for now that should would like escorts for the physical therapy appointments (again, as it stands now). Sheila says that if anyone is interested in accompanying her you can simply email her if you are available.

Please note~ Sheila feels awkward asking for help but I assured her we all desperately want to be able to do things for her. She also more than understands that we can't all be there despite how badly we'd like to be given the challenges with juggling busy lives.

Check out the "Stay Abreast" tab for upcoming appointment dates.

Onward as we Stomp This!
k

Positively Pink

2009-02-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

This is a tear jerker as Sheila inspires once again--here she goes:

On the calendar Jason printed off for me to keep track of cancer-related appointments and therapies, I drew a big skull and crossbones on the date of my diagnosis: January 13.

Jason noticed my amateurish artwork the other day and laughed.

“Personally, I put a pink “C” on that date in my calendar,” he said.

Clearly, we both have very different takes on this whole cancer thing.

I’m not typically a pessimist. When faced with adversity, the first thing I usually do is try and figure out a way to make things OK. When I got diagnosed, however, several days went by during which I felt that things were not OK by a long shot. I was really reeling from the fact that my tumor was a “triple negative” tumor that would not respond to estrogen-blocking treatments. Not only does that limit the treatment options, but these types of cancers tend to recur more often. When I learned of this, all the positive things I had heard about my diagnosis were forgotten. I fixated on the possibility of recurrence – which may or may not be a possibility several years down the road. Jason, on the other hand, took heart in the survival rate statistics, which were pretty close to those of those with ER/PR positive tumors. He also kept reminding me that the cancer had not spread beyond the lymph nodes. Not to the liver. Not to the ovaries. Not to the bone. Nowhere.

Over the past several days, I’ve started to gain a more upbeat outlook. We’re changing our diet to include more antioxidants and known cancer-fighting foods. I’m starting to think about things other than cancer every waking moment, and I’m feeling as physically strong as ever. In short, I am feeling that through diet, exercise and stress management, I have more control over the outcome of this ordeal, and that it is not the automatic death sentence I had thought initially.

So I think I am going to go borrow Jason’s pink pen. I’m going to need it for the big pink “V” for “victory” I’m going to put on my calendar six months from now.

News from Sheila

2009-02-11T20:35:00.000-08:00

Here is the latest from Sheila. She continues to leave me in a state of awe and inspiration.

I had an appointment with my oncologist today to go over the pathology report (right mastectomy was a week and a half ago). The news was good. The tumor measured only 2.7 centimeters – quite a bit smaller than the 3 to 5 centimeter estimate that was derived from the MRI and PET images over the past few weeks. Also, only two of the 23 lymph nodes the doctor removed were cancerous. The fewer nodes involved the better, so we were really glad to hear only two were affected. The odd thing, however, is that one of the two nodes measured 5.3 centimeters! It’s ridiculously large – nearly twice the size of the tumor. The oncologist said he didn’t feel overly concerned about it – the size of the breast tumor and the number of nodes affected is what matters, and the fact that my main tumor was relatively small and only two nodes are affected is very positive. My oncologist is planning to discuss my case with his colleagues next week. Typically, tumors under 5 centimeters and with fewer than four nodes involved would not have to undergo radiation following chemo, but depending on the opinions of the other experts, this may not be the case for me.

I will likely start chemotherapy the first week in March – one week later than I had originally thought. I have a final meeting with the oncologist on Feb. 19 to discuss details. It sounds like I will start with two drugs every other week for eight weeks, then switch over to another drug weekly for 12 weeks. The medicine is delivered through an IV, which usually takes a couple hours each time. For most people, the nausea hits the next day and lasts for a couple days. I had a terrific conversation with a fellow West Woodland mom today who went through cancer treatment two years ago, and she said that she managed her chemo very well with acupuncture and the use of a “reflexology mat” – a type of bumpy mat that you walk on. It stimulates parts of the foot that correspond to different body parts. It is used widely in China and said to help manage nausea. I plan to get one and also start seeing an acupuncturist.

The chemotherapy drugs will be delivered via a port-a-cath – a small port that is imbedded just under the skin near the collarbone, and stays there for the duration of treatment. The oncologist and the surgeon had initially decided that I would be delivered the chemo through a vein in my arm, but the difficulties the IV tech had finding a vein before my surgery made them decide on the port-a-cath. I will be taking a low dose of coumadin (a blood thinner) while the port-a-cath is in place to fend off the possibility of a blod clot (I had blood clots in my leg during my pregnancy, so the coumadin will be used as a precaution).

I also saw a naturopath earlier this week and she had me start taking a multivitamin, fish oil, Vitamin D, and calcium. I will also start taking digestive enzymes once I start chemotherapy. Her suggestions for dietary changes were very similar to what Jason and I had already researched – more green tea, more Omega3s, and – sadly – no sugar. I have been off refined sugar for a week and a half now, and it’s pretty tough. I thought I had found a good replacement: dried tart cherries from the bulk section at Ballard Market. I checked the nutritional information on the bin yesterday when I went back to get more and I noticed, unfortunately, that sugar was added. I switched to another type of dried cherries without sugar – not nearly as yummy, but I’ll take what I can get. I am also using agave syrup – a natural sweetener – instead of sugar on things like muesli and plain yogurt. I am finding that what I crave the most are the pastries from Starbucks. The low-fat blueberry coffeecake and the cranberry orange scone used to be my weekly treats. I am finding myself thinking about them all the time. I will probably have sweets every now and then once I start treatment, but while there are cancer cells still running loose in my body I am abstaining. Cancer feeds off sugar, and even though our bodies turn all food into glucose, I can’t justify adding in any more.

The drains that were in place after surgery were removed yesterday, so it’s easier to move around (AND, I don’t have to empty them three times a day – yuk!). I see the surgeon tomorrow for a check-up, but all looks good at the surgical site.

That’s it for now!

Status of Sheila!

2009-02-08T20:07:00.000-08:00

An update from Sheila~

It’s been a week since surgery and I am feeling great. I came home less than 24 hours after surgery and have been pretty comfortable since then. Aside from several walks, I have basically been laying low. I’ve gotten out a few times – I watched a parade at Oliver’s school Friday and went downtown with Jason Saturday. It’s actually quite surprising how little pain I’ve had. The most uncomfortable part is the pulling of the stitches, which seems to bother me toward the end of each day.

The surgeon removed the right breast as well as a “handful” of tissue from underneath the right arm. This tissue included a cluster of lymph nodes – the doctor couldn’t even say how many. They will be counted by the pathologists, and we should have a report sometime this week. They’ll dissect the nodes and be able to tell how many are cancerous. They’ll also be able to determine the exact size of the tumor now that it’s out, instead of looking at images on a computer screen. If the tumor measures less than five centimeters and fewer than four lymph nodes are cancerous, I have been told I won’t have to follow up the chemotherapy with radiation. If the tumor is larger than five centimeters and more than four nodes are affected, I expect I’ll have several weeks of radiation at the end of all this. From what I have heard, radiation treatments are done five days a week for about 20 minutes at a time for about six weeks. The treatments don’t typically made people nauseous, but people do get tired and the skin becomes scarred and sore.

The right breast is completely gone. It’s very strange to look at my chest and see nothing there on the right side. Much of the skin around the incision, as well as under my right arm and down the inside of my arm, is numb. The surgeon placed a gauze pad and waterproof surgical tape over the scar. I have kept it on all week, but it started peeling off today so we were able to remove the tape and gauze. There are still some surgical strips over the stitches, and those will dissolve on their own eventually. I have two long tubes stitched into my side that are draining fluids from the breast area and the under-arm area. Each tube ends in a compressed plastic bulb that I keep tucked into a pouch in a special camisole I am wearing. I have to empty these bulbs of the fluid that collects in them three times a day. Once the fluid in each bulb reaches less than 30 ccs a day, I can go into the surgeon’s office and have the tubes removed. I expect by Monday or Tuesday they’ll be ready to come out.

I see my oncologist on Wednesday to go over the pathology report, and then my surgeon on Thursday to check out the incision. I made an appointment with a naturopath on Monday. I am hoping to get a plan put together that includes healthy eating, supplements and self-care including meditation and possibly acupuncture. My plan is to get my body in tip-top shape so I can better handle the chemotherapy and – more importantly – be able to fight against the cancer cells we all have in our bodies in the future. Jason’s completely on board with this new eating plan – we’ve both been reading a lot about eliminating refined sugar and boosting intake of antioxidant foods. I have not had refined sugar for a week now. It’s tough, but manageable!

We’ve been so lucky to have some amazing meals brought to us this week! We’ve been so spoiled. Since the range of motion in my arm is coming back, I think we are set for meals – at least until chemo starts. Hopefully chemotherapy will be as easy as the surgery was – fingers crossed!

Breast Cancer Fundraiser

2009-02-05T09:55:00.000-08:00

Here is a breast cancer fundraiser you may wish to support!

I have committed to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania in July 2009. I recently accepted this challenge for the Climb to Fight Breast Cancer to raise funds benefiting Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. My goal is to raise a minimum of $10,000 with this climb, so please support me in this important project by pledging your donation. Your support will help fund cutting-edge research in the prevention, detection and treatment of breast cancer.

For information about this volunteer fund raiser and its programs, visit www.fhcrc.org/climb.

To find out more about why I'm doing this, please visit my climb website at http://getinvolved.fhcrc.org/goto/adam.fain. The site allows you to donate directly to Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center.

For every dollar donated, 85 cents goes towards research. None of your donation goes towards my travel expenses.

If you are able to donate and wish to do so by check, please make it out to Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and send it to:Adam Fain 11950 SE 4th Place, Apt. 401 Bellevue, WA 98005 afain@us.mufg.jp

Your donation is 100% tax-deductible. Please forward this email on to friends, family, and coworkers who may have an interest in the cause, and feel free to contact me directly if you have any questions.

Gratitude and an Update from Sheila

2009-02-04T21:02:00.000-08:00

I am back home (as of noon Tuesday) and moving around well. I’ve done some stretches to get the full range of motion in my right arm and I took a walk around the neighborhood with my mom. I also took a shower. The pain is barely noticeable – hard to believe!

The area of stitches is mostly just very tight and stiff. I’m not overly tired or groggy at all, although I have promised several people (my mom included) that I will just rest.

I have plenty of books and movies, so I will stick to that plan. We’re set for food, too – lots of leftovers in the fridge as well as one meal coming Saturday.

I want to tell everyone how much I appreciate the cards, flowers, calls, emails, etc. It sounds so trite to just say, “thank you.” Receiving everyone’s well-wishes is like getting a little gift every 10 minutes!

Supergirl

2009-02-03T10:43:00.000-08:00

Here's the latest update from Jason regarding Sheila--sent TUES a.m.--first day following surgery

She just got back from a walk after breakfast and is really doing well. Off of pain meds already. The surgeon came in this morning and did a quick inspection and said everything looks good. We're still waiting to hear when she will be released but my guess is it will be in a few hours.

No pain meds? Already out for a stroll? She rocks.

Dear Sheila--From Jason

2009-02-03T10:39:00.000-08:00

Trust me- no one can update you better than Sheila's husband--here goes (grab your Kleenex---he's witty and charming!)

(simply click on the link below)

http://helpingtostompthis.blogspot.com/

Mission Accomplished....

2009-02-02T16:25:00.001-08:00

The latest from Sheila's wonderful husband, Jason... bless them..

Just got a call from the surgeon. Everything went well.

Step ONE of "Operation Stomp This!" Complete!

Jason

Hold the Sweets

2009-01-31T17:36:00.001-08:00

Hi all,
As you can imagine Sheila and Jason are reading up on anti-cancer diets and they are trying to be as wise as they can be regarding smart food choices at this time. That said, they’re trying their best to stay away from refined sugars. Not an easy feat for a chocoholic (or ANY of us for that matter). So---while all the goodies are SO appreciated please hold off from send any more sweets (in FOOD form). Emails, text messages, cards, and most of all positive thoughts, energy, and prayers are more than welcome. Thanks for your understanding as the last thing they want to do is sound unappreciative of your wonderful intentions.

Merci & Champagne

2009-01-31T17:29:00.001-08:00

The lovebirds thank the kind people who sent champagne to their wedding dinner at Palisade last night BUT they were not able to get to dinner afterall! There was apparently a car accident that closed down the bridge and all other routes were blocked. They got word from a neighbor that the champagne was ordered. Naturally, they are touched but unsure of whom to thank for the thoughtful gesture!

More Good News

2009-01-31T08:24:00.000-08:00

This just in from Sheila~!

Just a quick update: got blood tests back from the geneticist. I tested negative for the two known breast cancer genes (BRCA1 and BRCA2). You may remember Christina Applegate’s decision to have a double mastectomy when she got breast cancer. She tested positive for the BRCA1 gene. Having these gene mutations increases your risk greatly of getting breast cancer in the other breast. It also means one has a greater chance of having ovarian cancer.

So, I do not carry these mutations. One less thing to worry about!

WE'RE THRILLED, SHEILA!!! Hope day one of married life is grand!

Wedding Day

2009-01-30T19:14:00.000-08:00

a picture (or two) is worth a thousand words.....

Congratulations Jason, Sheila, & Oliver! We love you!

Cute (but serious)

2009-01-30T10:52:00.000-08:00

Sent from Sheila's close friend, Val

Dear God,

I pray for the cure of breast Cancer.

Amen

All you are asked to do is keep this circulating.

Even if it's to one more person.

In memory of anyone you know that has been struck down by cancer or is still living with it.

A Candle Loses Nothing by Lighting Another Candle.

Surgery Update and then a brief break from MEDICAL speak as it's wedding time!

2009-01-29T21:31:00.001-08:00

Here's the latest regarding Monday's surgery from our brave, much loved Sheila.

Surgery is officially set for Monday. I am having a full mastectomy of the right breast with removal of the lymph nodes under the right arm. The nodes will be sent to a lab for dissection. Depending on how many are affected, I may follow up the chemotherapy with several weeks of radiation.

I check into Swedish at 11 a.m. The surgery, whenever it starts, should take a couple hours. I’ll probably be groggy until early evening. I’d like to request no visitors – I’ll only be there for one night and I am going to try and take advantage of the forced relaxation. I’d love visitors sometime after I get back home – I’ll be sure to let you know when that is.

A couple people have asked about recovery. The doctor said I will be quite sore for awhile, and unable to use the arm for a few days. I should have good range of motion within a week; about that time I should be able to drive as well. I’m being set up in the ACTIVE Program at Swedish – a physical therapy program for cancer patients. It should help get me moving again. I asked the nurse when I could start spinning classes again. I think she thought I was crazy.

So tomorrow, before the wedding, I am going to go buy a SOFTEE prosthetic camisole for use after the surgery. Ah, so romantic!

S & J (and little O) may you get lost in the beautiful moments of tomorrow (and one another)!

The Weekly Rap- UPDATED

2009-01-28T21:18:00.000-08:00

Just an FYI--it's been updated.

I will update that button regularly (striving for Weekly thus the name) so check in on it. I will not send reminder posts here on out (unless requested!)

Thanks, Wendy~

Good News Today & a PS

2009-01-28T21:06:00.000-08:00

The latest from our girl, Sheila

Two final procedures (results of minor flags raised by the PET/CT) turned up no problems. The first was an ultrasound of a mammary node – turned out to be nothing but a slightly larger-than-normal mammary node. The second procedure (originally scheduled for Thursday, but they were able to fit me in after the mammary node ultrasound) was an ultrasound of my ovaries, which also proved to be nothing. I could get into detail here, but that’s probably already more than you really want to know about my ovaries!

I celebrated by eating about five Godiva chocolates. Thanks, Craig! ;)

P.S. I got to see Sheila in THE dress for the Friday wedding (and her sassy, sexy new shoes, too!) She gave me chills. Literally. Her look is classic and vintage. Perfect. She promised to send me a wedding pic (when time allows) so I can post for you all!

Forgetfulness, the kindness of strangers, and a new outlook- post from Sheila

2009-01-27T22:55:00.001-08:00

I’ve long snickered under my breath when Jason would misplace his car keys, leave his wallet at the grocery store and leave his pants zipper (and belt!) undone (now that’s a topic for another blog post!). Now I am the one leaving things behind. At dim sum yesterday, I left my plastic tea mug somewhere at the restaurant. I know I brought it with me when I left the table, but somewhere between the restroom and the car, it disappeared. Then, today, I left my stainless steel water container at the swimming pool during Oliver’s lessons. I’ve heard of chemo-brain, but I haven’t even started treatment yet!

My mom and dad came up to Seattle today and my mom and I went up to Phinney Ridge to try and find a wedding dress. I had been feeling low on energy and depressed for the past couple days, and it just came to a head today. I didn’t have any desire to look through the cute dresses at the Frock Shop, nor did I want to continue the search at other shops on the Ridge. Instead, I insisted we come back home, where I just lay in bed for awhile and cried. As I was crying, I told myself, “This is the lowest I will go. It has to go up from here.” My mom, upset herself, pulled it together and gave me a pep talk I will never forget. “We will take this one step at a time,” she said. “We’ll do the surgery, then the chemo, then the radiation. One thing at a time.”

How simple, but it was something I was resisting. I have been focusing on the possibility of this cancer recurring, running scenarios in my brain about what may or may not happen three, seven, nine years down the road. Then Jason made a good point: I need to put all my focus on beating this 100 percent NOW, so the cancer doesn’t have a fighting chance to return again.

Later, when my parents left and Jason went back downstairs to work, I thought about what they said. My mom and Jason were looking at this as a beatable thing, whereas I was focusing on every bad thing I have ever heard. I know the success stories outweigh the others. I just wasn’t thinking about them.

I decided today was the day to get back to normal, despite the remaining procedures, consultations and upcoming surgery. By “normal,” I mean grocery shopping, writing, working and exercising. I mean thinking about what I am going to cook for dinner instead of what kind of cancer I am going to get next. It means taking Oliver to buy his friend Toni a present for her birthday party Saturday instead of reading my cancer books.

Driven by a new energy (and the realization that I have two small windows of time before Friday to find myself a dress!), I got out of bed and went back up to Phinney Ridge. At one store, I found a gift for a friend. At another, I found a great top and a dress that just might be The Dress for Friday. The saleswoman was very nice. When I told her I was shopping for my wedding dress, she wanted all the details. After skirting the issue for a few minutes, I told her my situation. Details and all. We visited for awhile, she wrapped my purchases and I headed home.

It wasn’t until a few hours later when I was showing Jason my clothes that I discovered something small wrapped in tissue paper at the bottom of my bag. I pulled it out, removed the paper, and saw a cream-colored candle in the shape of an angel. The saleswoman had slipped this into my bag without me seeing. What a symbol to mark the beginning of a new outlook.

As touching as that gesture was, it doesn’t come close to the outreach that has come from my friends and family. Where to begin? Phone calls and cards. Emails and flowers. Blogs created, designed and diligently updated. Boxes of candy from Chicago. A cookie from Minneapolis. Brownies from Denver. Books, a make-a-wish necklace, a basket of popcorn and candy, and DVDs chosen from the heart. An offer from a friend to use her long blond hair for a wig. Another offer to create a plaster breast cast before my surgery. Painstakingly typed text messages from a friend who – text unsavvy – sends them anyway because I told her that they are less exhausting than phone calls right now.

My temporary forgetfulness may cause me to leave my water bottle behind, but the words, gifts, and good thoughts from loved ones will never be far from my mind. Thank you!

LOVEly news to note

2009-01-26T21:20:00.000-08:00

You must get this news straight from Sheila herself. Here is what she wrote after sending me the previous update...

Oh - and one bright note - we are getting married by a Justice of the Peace Friday at 4:30 downtown! Seems so crazy for this to get wedged in amidst all this, but it was our one window of opportunity before we get down to business.

Congratulations Sheila & Jason!

We're here for you and darling Oliver!

~Much love~

The Latest

2009-01-26T21:06:00.000-08:00

Sheila wanted you all up to speed after her appointment today with the oncologist.

Here is what she writes:

Consult with oncologist went well:
* Surgery will likely be Feb. 2 as expected; definite right mastectomy. I need to decide whether or not to remove the other breast. Chance of recurrence in the other breast is no higher than it would be for any other woman, but I am not sure whether I want to take the chance.
* Chemo will start three weeks after surgery (on or around Feb. 23, if we stick with the Feb. 2 surgery date)
* I'll be getting the strongest dose of chemo they have for breast cancer patients: Dose-dense ACT. I will have 4-6 doses of one kind of chemo (one every two wks, so 8-12 week duration), then 12 weeks of a second kind. Likely radiation after that.
* Reconstruction would occur after treatment is done.

I have two more procedures scheduled this week to double check a couple things the techs saw during the PET/CT.

(please note: I have posted them under the Stay Abreast section.)

It has been another long, draining day for her. She remains strong and wonderful--asking about my life and looking forward to escaping somewhat and watching The Bachelor tonite. Bless her and her amazing strength.

Disregard posts below- designer is "creating!"

2009-01-24T11:07:00.000-08:00

Hi there,

Our fab designer, Michelle Baird, founder of Shabby Creations, http://shabbycreations.blogspot.com/ is making some cool buttons on the side of the blog for us so I had to create the posts below for her to use. Just ignore them for now and stay tuned for the hip buttons!
Thanks~ k

Stay Abreast

2009-01-24T11:06:00.000-08:00

Weekly Abraxine Infusions @ Swedish Cancer Institute

Tues., April 21, 2:20 p.m. - 3 p.m.~ JASON or Sheila's MOM to cover

Tues., April 28, 11 a.m. - noon~Katie to cover, pick up @10: 30 a.m.

Tues, May 5, 10 a.m.-11 a.m. - Carol Lamotte to cover, pick up @ 9:30 a.m.

Tues., May 12, 9:40 a.m.-10:30 a.m. - Jennifer Dwyer to cover, pick up @ 9 a.m.)

Tues., May 19, 9:20 a.m.-10 a.m. - Tami Herlocker to cover-pick up @ 8:45 a.m.

Tues., May 26, 9:40 a.m.-10 a.m. - Judy Cites to cover -pick up @ 9 a.m.)

The Story

2009-01-24T11:05:00.001-08:00

Here is Sheila's story in her own words.

Sheila was diagnosed with invasive ductile carcinoma on January 9, 2009. She felt a lump in her right breast in early December, and visited her primary care physician shortly after returning to Seattle from spending the holidays in Colorado.

That visit led to an ultrasound of the lump, an immediate core biopsy and the diagnosis a few days later. So far, it has been determined that the one lymph node that was aspirated at the time of the core biopsy is also cancerous.

The cancer started in a milk duct and, once it grew too big to be contained, broke free and continued to grow. This is when she discovered it. Ductile cancers can grow in milk ducts for up to eight years before they are detected. It is not known how long this cancer was present, and tests will determine how far it has spread.Dense breast tissue hid the cancer from mammograms.

Sheila had annual mammograms since she was 35; the latest being September of 2008. Nothing was detected at that time.Both Sheila’s grandmothers had breast cancer – one was 74, and the other was 80 when diagnosed. Both were cured and continued to lead healthy lives.

The Weekly Rap

2009-01-24T10:59:00.000-08:00

Weekly Rap, March 3, 2009

The surgery went smoothly, but I stood once pain subsided
And promptly hit the floor cause now my top is all lopsided
I got a fancy halter with a boob sewn to the top

But now I live in terror of a large resounding pop
And Jason didn't get it when I said I must weigh in!
And yes, ain't it amazing what I'll do to keep so thin?

Weekly Rap, February 13, 2009

So things may get quite hairy, or perhaps they'll be more bald.
I've always had this humor so don't act like you're appalled.
I have no love for pity and I'll call you on it quick.
Don't think about my body, it's my RAP that's really sick!

Weekly Rap, January 28, 2009

Sheila talked to Wendy cuz she's less a friend more sistah.
She said, "It's been awhile and baby girl I've really missed ya.
“So lately I've been stressed because instead of feeling frumpy...
I got it on in private and found out I'm somewhat lumpy.”

Weekly Wrap, January 21, 2009

The lady had a shady so she checked it in a scan.
She got a lousy answer from the doc, you know, a man.
It wasn't what she hoped for, no it wasn't the right ansa.
The dude he said the wrong thing when he said it was the canca

About the author:
Wendy (close friend to Sheila) is the woman behind The Weekly Rap. Here is her back story (in her own words). Wendy is your typical white rapper from a bad ass Twin City suburb in Minnesota - a 38 year old single-never-married (shut up) grandmother who lives with two cats (shut up). A healthcare technology sales rep by day, she spends her evenings teaching boot camp classes and knitting (shut up). Her personal philosophy can be summed up with a single phrase: If the shoe fits, buy it in every color.

Another Test Update (and Mama Bear)

2009-01-24T10:10:00.000-08:00

Please find the results of Sheila's PET/CT Scan below as reported on Friday afternoon.

* PET/CT (full body scan) saw no tumors in major organs. It did see a small mammary node along the ribs on the right side that they'll want to take a closer look at with an ultrasound. It showed no glucose uptake, however. If it had, it would have indicated cancer. If this turns out to be something, they'd just hit it with radiation when I get my treatment.

All- Sheila is once again processing the info. as best she can and obviously delivering us the news as soon as she can (and as soon as I can post!) so we're all up to speed. I can tell she really wants to make sure we're alright.

Clearly she's gotten some good results this week and we were all here to celebrate with her. She knows we're also here to rally with her if the news is not as great as she would like. While she knows this in theory I also know she wants to protect us some and I am here to state to Sheila on behalf of us all, "It ain't about us, girl."

We are here to support, love, nurture, cry, celebrate, hope, dream, and just BE with you. Anytime. Regardless.

Something to Complain About --blog from Sheila

2009-01-24T09:57:00.000-08:00

Like clockwork, Oliver’s school bus rolls up to the stop at 8:28 a.m. every school day. And like clockwork, his bus driver has something to gripe about.

I don’t know this woman well. In fact, I have never even seen her outside the driver’s seat of the #500. What I do know, is that she’s a complete grouch. She seems to be civil to the children – I’ve never seen her bark at them. She’s just one of those people who seems to have a problem with other drivers (especially other bus drivers), traffic, weather conditions, and basically anything that really doesn’t matter in the whole scheme of things. She always has some sort of complaint to share with me as soon as the bus doors open.

Take yesterday, for example. As the bus pulled up to the stop and Oliver got on, she started in. First came the eye roll. Then she started complaining. This time it was directed towards the school bus driver that had just pulled away from the curb. “Did you see that?” she asked me. “What’s that?” I replied. “The guy puts on his blinkers, but he doesn’t put on his flashers,” she spat. Not being a bus driver myself, the severity of this offense was lost on me. I tried to sympathize, but all I could get out was a shoulder shrug and an, “Oh, yeah?”She shook her head, rolled her eyes again and ironically told me to “Have a good day,” like she always does.

Until now, I’ve always snickered at her behavior under my breath as the bus pulled away. But at this point in my life, she really ticks me off. I admit I am a bit touchy at the moment. Getting a cancer diagnosis brings about a range of emotions: fear, depression, denial and self-pity, to name a few. It also makes one realize just how much some stuff just doesn’t matter. Even if this grave transgression on the part of the other bus driver was forgotten as Oliver’s driver pulled away, she still wasted 6.2 seconds of her life being pissed off about it. What a waste of time!

Other things that are a waste of time: getting annoyed at the computer, denying one’s self pastries, straightening up the kitchen counter several times a day and being annoyed by Seattle’s gray skies. In my opinion, it also doesn’t make sense to complain about your life when you have a job, a home, good friends and family. I see this all too often, and I’ve been guilty of it from time to time myself. I’m not complaining anymore.

Worrying myself about my future health is also a waste of time, so I have decided I am not going to do it anymore. I made a big mistake yesterday and started doing some online research on the characteristics of my particular type of tumor. I didn’t like what I saw, and it made me scared and depressed. As cliché as it sounds, and at the advice of the wise Wendy, I am going to live one day at a time.

Anyone care to join me?

Shout Out

2009-01-21T22:21:00.000-08:00

I had to call out a friend of Jason's from Colorado (Dave Hughes) who created the header of the blog featuring the retro image of Sheila. It rocks, yes?

Clearly he's an artist. Apparently it's just a hobby. I say it's time he starts taking that talent to the streets and cashing in!

Seeking Bookworm

2009-01-21T21:30:00.001-08:00

Sheila says a kind soul sent her a book called “Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor,” which was sent directly from the book distributor so there was no note indicating who purchased it for her.

She would love to know, naturally, as she is grateful and very pleased with the gift!

I just got this note below from her which brought tears to my eyes. The first tears of JOY I've cried in days.

Off to take a bath and warm these cancer-free bones!! ;)

Does she have the right attitude or what? She knew just what she was doing when she titled this blog, Stomp This!

Report Card, Housekeeping and a Word from Our Sponsor

2009-01-21T19:17:00.001-08:00

Report Card
Sheila aced another test-- "All clear on bone scan" read the text message she shot to me late this afternoon. Not sure I've ever received a more positive text message! Way to go, girl!

Housekeeping
So, as I stated I am working out the kinks of the blog. I am SO not technical so thanks for bearing with me.

Some of you have asked how to post a comment. You should be able to click on the comment link on the bottom of each post and a page will be opened up for you to post a comment in a box located off to the right. You will then be asked to choose an identity. You can either sign up for a google/blogger account (it's really no big deal, trust me--remember, NOT a techie here!) or you can simply click the bubble next to "name" to comment or you can choose the "anonymous" bubble to comment anonymously (which is not nearly as fun for us voyeurs!)
In terms of creating a google account there is a link to click on that simply reads, "sign up here."
Once you draft your comment and determine your identity simply click publish your comment and you're done!

Holler if you need any more instruction and I will do my best to guide you or I'll at least tap into my techie friends for a clue...

Update from the star of our show~ Sheila!

January 21, 2009
News back from Monday’s MRI is great: no other lumps or lymph node involvement other than what we already know. For the first time in a week I have been able to sleep a full night. Tuesday’s bone scan brought good news as well – no cancer detected. I have a strange, giddy feeling about this – but then I remember: I still have cancer. It’s an odd place to be.

Monday’s MRI
What a surprise it was to walk in the procedure room and be immediately taken aback by the MRI machine. It was a tunnel about five feet long, and I got a funny feeling in my stomach the second I saw it. The patient lies flat on the table and is rolled into the tunnel. Both ends remain open, but the machine’s diameter is small and the top of the cylinder is only a few inches from one’s face. As I started rolling in, I began to panic and I immediately asked the tech to roll me back out. We went through this three times. I began to think that I was not going to be able to do it. We finally compromised: if I took out the earplugs and removed the head positioned, I felt less confined. Being in the tunnel for 20 minutes was not fun, but I just kept my eyes closed and tried not to notice how confined I was. Rebecca came with me and was able to come into the room and calm me. That helped.

Tuesday’s bone scan
Piece of cake. After a shot of dye, Katie and I were able to go get a scone and a mocha at Starbucks. It was there we watched Obama’s inauguration. Truly a historic moment and one that was quite symbolic for me: a new beginning for our country, and hopefully a new beginning for me. The machine was a stockier version of the MRI, but not nearly as confining. The procedure took about an hour. The scanner moved over the top of me as I lay on the table. Results came back today: all clear!

Today: genetic testing
Interesting counseling session. My age and the fact that my tumor is ER/PR and HER2/neu negative means there’s a 20 percent chance I carry one of two breast cancer genes. If I carry these mutations, there’s a 40 percent chance I’ll eventually get breast cancer in the other breast, and a 20 to 40 percent chance I will develop ovarian cancer. In fact, of those women with the gene mutation who opt to take out their ovaries, one in five will already have early stages of ovarian cancer (detected once the ovaries are out and examined). Unfortunately there is no test to detect the early stages of ovarian cancer. Once you have it and it’s detected, it’s almost always too late. The surgery is tentatively scheduled for Feb. 2, although the genetic testing results will take three weeks to come back. It will be up to my oncologist to decide whether to wait for the test results or go ahead with the surgery as scheduled.

The ER/PR and HER2/neu business is still a bit of a mystery to me. I do know that if you are positive in these areas, it means your tumor is fueled by estrogen and progesterone. In that case, patients are often given a drug that blocks the production of estrogen and sends them into early menopause. I’m thankful that this isn’t the case for me – all I need is more cycle-related mood swings! I have heard that being ER/PR and HER2/neu negative (“triple negative,” it’s called) results in a more aggressive tumor, which is nothing we didn’t already know – the pathology report showed that my tumor scored a 9 of 9 on the aggressiveness scale (I’ve got a bad-ass tumor – yeah!). Aggressive tumors do respond best to chemo, though, so I have that going for me.

Tomorrow: the PET CT – a full body scan. Preparation started today – no sugar or starches and nothing to eat after midnight tonight. Shannon felt my pain – we had plans to indulge in a scone and a mocha after the genetic test, but I got a reminder call (just in time!) from the PET CT office to remind me of the “no sugar” rule. So, we had some noodle soup without the noodles – and it was great! Of course all I can think about now (7 p.m.) is the Fran’s chocolates that Lorna brought over last night and the remaining cream puff Anne made. Self control was never one of my strong points.

Friday it’s time to celebrate. NK moms – are you ready? :)

Bone Scans and Dreadlocks

2009-01-20T23:49:00.000-08:00

To an outsider, 7 a.m. on Tuesday at Sheila’s house resembled a typical morning in countless homes all across America. Darling child with bedhead (still sporting his pjs) begging mama to stay home and play for the day. The “man of the house” reassuring the boy mom would return soon and bidding her farewell with a kiss and a snug.

She was off to her bone scan appointment. The day before was the MRI appointment. The following day will be the genetic testing appointment. The day after that is the PET scan appointment. Clearly, nothing here is typical.

Armed with a binder filled with far more medical information than anyone should ever have to digest, our always organized intrepid reporter walked into the dark, foggy morning and once again stepped into the unknown. She was sporting her skinny jeans and looked fab, I might add. Most of all she carried herself with poise and composure like no other.

We arrived at the bone scan appointment and she was ushered in to have the dye injected prior to the scan. We had a 45 minute window as we waited for the dye to “do its thing” (I know, I know—what does “do its thing mean?”) No clue. I will have to ask more questions if I am supposed to be the one to update you. Bear with me for now as I am still learning but I will get better, promise. For now--back to waiting for the dye to work—we decided to wait it out at Starbucks. We watched the inauguration and chatted some mostly about reality shows, Saturday Night Live, and what she should wear on her head if the time comes (bleached blond wig with blue highlights? A doo-rag? We did determine the hat Aretha Franklin wore at the inauguration was one we should avoid). I assured her I’d gather some ideas we can present to her if needed.

Minutes later she was having the bone scan done. We talked a bit more as she lay on the table and the machine scanned her beautiful body. She was so brave. Nearly 45 minutes later as the procedure was nearing and I thought she might be sleeping dear Sheila simply said, “dreadlocks.” I am not sure if I ever was more inspired by another.

Exhale

2009-01-20T22:00:00.000-08:00

I sent the following email to many of you on Tuesday, January 20 (opened below as an FYI). I wanted to share with you many of the comments that were sent back to me about our beloved Sheila. She is so fortunate to have you.

The email~

“Very good news” was the report Sheila and Jason received today after yesterday’s MRI.

Here’s the good word:
MRI showed nothing they did not already know. (They knew it was a 3 cm mass on her right breast (they said it may extend a little further, not sure). They knew there was lymph node involvement in her right armpit. They are not sure how many nodes are in the lump in her armpit.)

BUT--no other lymph nodes are affected and no lumps were detected in her other breast or around her sternum.

It was SUPER news. Sheila exhaled for what felt like the first time in days she said.

I can tell you—seeing Sheila and Jason embrace after receiving the call was magical.

Lastly, Sheila had her bone scan today and was a real trooper. She even managed to eat a scone (which showed me she was striving to be as positive as she can be despite all the chaos). She is an inspiration indeed. We were able to duck into a Starbucks while we waited for the dye to work prior to the bone scan and we witnessed the inauguration.

That’s the news for now. ~Katie

Glimpses into a few of your hearts (I took the liberty of editing some of the comments simply for flow purposes)~

I feel like I have been holding my breath waiting also. She is the best person I know and one of the strongest which is so awesome. Val

that's a HUUUUGE exhale. Great news Sheila. You are amazing, and I hope you continue to get good news amidst all this craziness and scariness for you. I so appreciate these updates and send you lots of love. elham

I think we can all exhale a bit. Anne

FANTASTIC news!!! I am breathing a sigh of relief today for Sheila as well,
and for all Americans in fact on this day. What a great day to be alive! Lara

Sheila - congrats on passing your first test of the week! And, way to pack it all in today - taking tests, getting test results, eating a scone AND watching the inauguration! I think you've accomplished much more today than I have. What a day...Lynae

Sheila, I'm right there with you, inhaling and exhaling and enjoying the thrill of simply breathing and taking in the day. It has been a most important one on many fronts. Take good care throughout the rest of the week. It is so good you got some important answers so quickly. Here's to you - an incredibly strong woman!! Hugs to Jason and Oliver too - thinking of all of you. Sending my best,Leslie

Those are but a few of the highlights--the other well wishes, loving thoughts, and sweet sentiments have been passed along to our girl I assure you.

I exchanged lovely emails with Sheila's mom, Gail, and her aunt, Marilyn "Myrt" today as well--if ever you wondered where Sheila got her heart and strength--I know.

I will leave you with this for now~

"Individually we are one drop. Together we are an ocean." Ryunosuke Satoro