love, cancer, etc.

11.7.09 - one year from the news

2009-11-07T16:00:00.000-08:00

one year ago today i was told by my surgeon that based on my biopsy, i had triple-negative breast cancer and would have to have chemo and radiation after either a lumpectomy or mastectomy. i was told i had "a very aggressive cancer" and she said, "we will have to hit you hard with chemo." i had to decide on a surgery date, and i decided on a bilateral mastectomy.

in this blog i wrote:

"lots of tears this morning. i have TWO WEEKS LEFT to be myself and feel good and have no pain, no schedules, no drains - to have my body intact and be able to do whatever i want, whenever i want, and feel normal. after surgery i will never be the same again, never wake up and feel like myself, feel familiar, to be able to take a shower and make coffee and do exercises and live life the way i do now. i can't believe how the entire way i look will change in two weeks and then during chemo. losing all my long hair. i can't fathom all this. it's completely surreal - everything i know about myself and how i feel in my body is going to be over in only 13 days."

and here it is a year later, i spent saturday afternoon walking in the hills with my youngest son and his dog. my hair is growing back, i've recently returned from paris with my older son, and i feel terrific.

my surgery date was november 20th, and i can feel the date approaching. my body has that memory now. fall in the air, cold nights and mornings, the light changing.

i think back to a year ago today when i got the news, the definite news of the kind of cancer that was inside me, and i can't believe one year has passed. it feels like fifty.

11.2.09 - very bad Transvaginal Ultrasound Day!

2009-11-02T20:14:00.000-08:00

i had a very bad Transvaginal Ultrasound Day! i was supposed to have an ovarian ultrasound as part of my annual GYN checkup. i showed up at renown imaging, waited half an hour in the waiting room while people were hacking up their lungs and probably had swine flu, had to deal with a 100-year-old woman (jean, whose tag said "financial counselor") who did intake and had no idea what her job was or how to use a computer, and then this faux elvis presley guy who looked like he belonged either at a gas station or a casino came to get me and said he was giving me the ultrasound. oh, i think not. i canceled the appt. WTF. i called my GYN to ask why in the holy hell she sent me to a place where they give you men for ultrasounds--no, not just ultrasounds, TRANSVAGINAL GODDAMNED ULTRASOUNDS--and her nurse said they have "no control over that." my ass. so i called to reschedule and said i wanted a female to do this procedure and the guy said he'd put down that i "prefer" a female. no, i do not "prefer" a female. i demand a female. i called bobbi, my nurse navigator, and she was my life saver, once again. i go again on monday and bobbi has made sure i get a female. seriously, except for dr. rost and bobbi, i absolutely despise so-called healthcare in reno. it has been one big joke to another from the minute i was diagnosed. this place is giving me more cancer. i can feel it. stress from dealing with idiots.

11.1.09 - Paris

2009-11-01T06:15:00.000-08:00

paris photos

dream list:

go back to paris with james - check
be open to the unexpected - check
walk for hours every day until i drop - check
take thousands of photos - check
spend memorable time with mona and magali and frederique - check
eat incredibly delicious food, especially thai and vietnamese - check
meet lots of interesting people - check
speak french for hours at a time - check
have the trip of a lifetime - check

we had an incredible surprise when we arrived at our hotel. kevin o'malley and his co-worker tricia luedtke, who work at tomotherapy, the company that made the radiation machine that i used and wrote about on this blog, and who have followed my blog for a long time and we have e-mailed off and on, paid for our first night at the hotel in paris. i could not have been more surprised. kevin and tricia - THANK YOU!

now i'm home and exhausted. i wasn't really strong enough yet for all the walking i did every day. thank goodness for the terrific bus system in paris. i'd get on at 8 a.m. and hop on and off all day while i explored. my entire body is completely sore, even my ribs, and of course in the back of my mind i think it's the return of cancer. i've learned to accept the ghost.

being with james in paris again was, of course, wonderful. the last time we were in paris together was 2001. since then i kept postponing going back until our schedules would mesh, and they never did - until cancer. this is something i've learned from cancer - don't postpone joy. just don't.

10.19.09 - bonjour, Paris!

2009-10-19T07:31:00.000-07:00

with my youngest son matt, who held my hand when each chemo started, who was my wonderful support throughout the entire breast cancer experience.

it's been one year this month since the mammograms, the MRI, the biopsy, and the reality of cancer. and tomorrow morning i'll be meeting my oldest son in paris! a year ago i could never have imagined what was ahead of me, not only the difficult times, but especially the way cancer would change my life for the better. i feel terrific, have a new crop of hair, and i could not be happier. la vie est belle!

10.3.09 - one year since "you have a small cancer"

2009-10-03T15:25:00.000-07:00

one year ago today i had my follow-up mammogram and ultrasound and was told, "you have a small cancer." how could that have been only one year ago? it feels like another lifetime.

i love this sign at a fortune teller's house. i think before i go to paris i might knock on the door and have my fortune told. nothing would surprise me anymore!

9/29/09 - end of summer

2009-09-29T07:56:00.000-07:00

summer in nevada lasts a long time and is just now turning into fall. i spent a wonderful saturday at the farm, watching the last rows of corn being harvested, picking the last batch of tomatoes and memorizing the intoxicating smell of hundreds of tomato plants five feet high, in tight rows. this week a cold front is on its way with temperatures in the 30s at night. i'm looking forward to another season to enjoy mornings and evenings by my fireplace and watching snow from my beautiful view of the mountains. last year the first snow was on october 10, the day my oldest son turned 30 and one week after i was told i had cancer.

last sunday was spent in the middle of nowhere, in the desert, with matt and molly for matt's 46-mile dirt bike race, the mother chukar 100. watching the racers begin the race, plunging into a dust storm where they can't see anything, not knowing what to expect, holding on tight, using all their skills, and hoping for the best - that reminded me of my cancer experience. and what a wild ride that was.

it's been a fantastic summer - ended treatment in july and have enjoyed every single day since. and only 21 days till paris!!

9.18.09 - one year since "the letter"

2009-09-18T16:32:00.000-07:00

one year ago. the dreaded letter.

i remember sitting in my car, reading my mail. opened this letter, read it. my heart was racing and it felt like an out-of-body experience, going through the motions of putting the mail down, starting up the car, continuing with life, buying groceries to cook dinner with matt and molly, and a feeling like i was levitating, not really in my body anymore. i remember i e-mailed four friends immediately from my blackberry. wrote in my journal that night, which is how this blog begins. i didn't tell my children for a few more weeks, until after my biopsy.

when i was going through chemo, i never thought i'd feel this, but i do feel privileged to have been able to see what it's like to deal with cancer and be part of the hospital/medical/cancer machine. it's made me much more compassionate, patient, appreciative, and aware. a year ago i took so much for granted. i really needed this wakeup call.

9.12.09 - one year since the very last mammogram, ever, ever, ever

2009-09-12T15:31:00.000-07:00

this blog has come full circle. one year ago today i had my last mammogram. i remember that i had a sore spot almost in the center of my chest that i had mentioned to my GYN the day before. she couldn't feel a lump and said, "i'm sure you're fine." i had no real concerns the day of my mammogram, although i do remember that i purposely didn't mention the sore spot. that's how terrified i was of breast cancer. since finding out that my birth mother and her mother had died of breast cancer, i was just waiting for it to happen to me. i remember i had written a poem about my birth mother years ago and had written "my cancer waits inside you." i had a bone density test right after my mammogram, and then i got dressed and left quickly. i didn't check in with the radiologist about the mammogram, but i remember thinking i should. looking back, i realize i didn't want to know.

yesterday and this morning i was at the great reno balloon races at 5 a.m. thousands of people and hundreds of balloons. glorious colors and such great joy in the crowds, such a magnificent thrill when all the balloons are filled at the same time and take off into the sky. i'd much rather be doing this than going for a mammogram. and i'm so very happy i don't have to, ever again.

8.30.09 - NV state fair - a perfectly fun summer

2009-08-30T15:29:00.001-07:00

this morning my my dear friend sharon and i went to the nevada state fair. she's crazy for chickens and i'm crazy for ferris wheels photographed with the holga. i was so happy to take my new holga with polaroid back and try it out on a ferris wheel! it uses peel-apart 100 film. my dear friend randy smith, who owns holgamods.com, made this camera for me. it was a sunny, hot, perfect nevada day and so much fun to watch so many people enjoying themselves. i took lots of photos of the fair today and also yesterday at lattin farms in fallon, where i go every weekend to buy the most delicious tomatoes, watermelon, corn, honey dew melons, cantaloupe, and onions.

it's been a great summer filled with travel, family, beloved friends - my heart spilling over with gratitude for my new appreciation for life after cancer.

8.26.09 - bumping into cancer memories

2009-08-26T20:43:00.001-07:00

i wrote a version of this to my friend armand today and then felt it has a home on this blog. i wonder how many of you have felt this way about bumping into cancer memories. please let me know.

at the grocery store today i saw a woman that i recognized but couldn't place her, and then she saw me and smiled and i saw her husband and OH MY GOD. from the radiation waiting room. two months of seeing each other almost every day. her husband has a brain tumor and lung cancer, and she and i used to talk and talk and talk while he was having radiation and i was waiting my turn. her husband starts chemo tomorrow, asked me for advice about how much water to drink, pain meds to take. it felt just so strange to have answers and to even know about chemo. it felt like i was speaking a foreign language that suddenly i remembered perfectly. and when they left, i sobbed and sobbed all the way home. my body just took over and shut down my brain. i had forgotten what it felt like back in that waiting room. i had forgotten just everything about what it was really like to be inside cancer treatment. i have tried to put all that behind me, and it's jarring when i bump into those feelings again. deep down i'm terrified of recurrence and going back to that life. it's just so normal now not to think about cancer at all and to just be alive and even allow myself to have "normal" feelings--like sometimes being pissed off at little things, instead of being serious about big things - like surviving.

it's impossible to explain to someone who hasn't gone through cancer treatment how it feels when you talk to someone else who has gone through it--the shortcut through the bullshit, the immediate understanding of what matters. all of us in the radiation waiting room and chemo rooms are strangers to each other, basically. but then months later, we can meet in a grocery store and STILL pour our hearts out to each other. i don't even know this couple's last name and they don't know mine. but we can talk about the most intimate details of our bodies without any hesitation. because it's a connection that skirts smalltalk and chitchat and pleasantries. it's like my conversations now with dr. rost when i have my follow-up checkups. although we do joke around about some things because, hallelujah, he's playful and wonderful, quickly the conversation becomes very serious about recurrence and what to watch for, what to feel for, what to be aware of. the seriousness in that room with dr. rost and even in the grocery store with fellow radiation waiting-room compadres is a seriousness i have to live with from now on. it takes me to a place that's so deep and so real, it's sometimes frightening. but if i didn't have it, then i wouldn't appreciate my new post-cancer life the way i do.

this photo is of a beautiful cabbage leaf i found on the ground at lattin farms in fallon, NV, an organic farm where you can pick the most delicious veggies and herbs and beautiful flowers. it's true, you SWOON when you taste their corn and tomatoes and watermelon. i do. on a regular basis. more photos of a recent visit to the farm here.

suddenly i have been hearing from long-lost friends and lovers. this summer i have gotten phone calls and e-mails that have reconnected me back to my past. very nice.

how i'm spending my summer: joined a french-speaking group that meets once a month! lots of trips to lattin farms to pick organic veggies! exercising every day (well, almost every day)! discovered two exquisite local thai restaurants! Upped my vitamin D to 2000iu/day (wheeee)! going to the state fair! enjoying my new camera that's a holga with polaroid back! of course seeing matt and molly quite often! almost back to 105 lbs again and feeling great!

and looking ahead: 29 days until i go back to pacifica to spend a week at the ocean (i will spend my 55th birthday night falling asleep to the sound of the ocean). 48 days until my oldest son and i arrive in paris for two weeks! and in the winter - back to caddo, back to texas and louisiana, i hope a visit to seattle and portland.

i hope you are having a very summery summer -

xoxox

8.7.09 - first follow-up since treatment ended

2009-08-07T13:09:00.000-07:00

today i had my first follow-up appointment with dr. rost since my treatment ended one month ago. i was dreading going back through those hospital doors again, but instead, it felt completely familiar and it was great to see brandon and pauline and some of the nurses again, and of course to see dr. rost, who has completely won my heart. i did have a catch in my throat while in the waiting room and watching patients who were going through treatment, who were bald, who had that look on their face that i know so well, like being in the belly of a never-ending whirlwind of emotions.

dr. rost and i talked about how and where to check for recurrence; about the pros and cons of genetic testing (i've decided against it); about the pros and cons of an oopherectomy because of increased chance of ovarian cancer (i'm 99% sure i want the oopherectomy, but will meet with my GYN next month to discuss it); and talked about what we've been doing this summer. i'm so grateful for dr. rost. it makes all the difference in the world to have a doctor i trust and enjoy.

right after our meeting, i went to the lab for bloodwork - complete blood panel and tumor markers - 8 vials of blood (unnerving). will get the results on wednesday.

i'll be going back to dr. rost and the lab every two months.

this last month since treatment was been WONDERFUL: a long visit with my oldest son, many get-togethers with my youngest son and molly, a vacation at caddo lake in texas with scott, a visit with my mom and her beau in dallas, weekend trips to davis, some road trips around reno, lunches with friends, enjoying delicious summer vegetables and farmers' markets, taking umpteen rolls of holga film and polaroid film, having fun with a fisheye lens on my digital canon G9. my hair is growing back and i'm going to keep it super short.

i've decided to take one week a month and have as much fun as possible for the rest of my life! next month i'm spending a week at the ocean in pacifica and san francisco. it will be nice to be "home" again--back at the beach and ocean where i lived for 8 years, back to the wooden boat harbor, photographing my surfer buddies again!

in 70 days, i'll be in PARIS! i'm hoping my oldest son can join me for a two-week visit, where i'll be seeing french friends and walking for hours and hours every day, taking lots of photos with a new modified holga (holga with polaroid back) from my dear friend randy smith at holgamods.com, who recently named a holga after me. it's called the Lattimore - unmodified because i like a simple camera where all i have to think about is composition and light (and also because i keep forgetting if the pin goes in or out on my other holgas and it drives me nuts).

in the works this fall and winter are vacations with scott and/or my sons and molly to yosemite, mexico, NYC, los angeles, death valley, and paris again in 2010 for at least a month. it feels good to be dreaming in french again.

the cancer experience feels far behind me, but not a day goes by that i don't think about all the friends i made during that time and how grateful i am to all of you for your support and kindness.

tell me about your summer!

xoxoxox

7.5.09 - radiation #33 of 33 - boost #8 of 8 - ALL DONE!!

2009-07-06T16:09:00.001-07:00

rereading my journal. on january 10, 2009, the day before chemo started, i wrote:

"saying goodbye to so many things for such a long time. i'm scared and it's all so surreal. life really will change tomorrow, much more than after my surgery. much, much more. am i naive to think i won't let this treatment get me down? am i defenseless against it? so hard to imagine all this. i hate not knowing how my body will be in four months after chemo and then three months later after radiation. i have a determination to not let it attack me and take my life away. i hope i can be strong. after treatment i'm going to travel and take photos again. free time. is there such a thing as free time?"

and today i am finished with treatment, on the other side of all those questions and fears seven months ago. and, yes, chemo did certainly get me down and kept me down for quite a while. but i was lucky that all the side effects went away very soon, and radiation has been a breeze. i feel just as energetic as i did before treatment. in 9 days i'll be on a plane to texas, in 67 days i'll be at the ocean again for a week, and in 106 days on a plane to paris.

i can't believe it's over! i think of all the people i've met since my diagnosis who i would never, ever have met otherwise - it feels like an entire lifetime has passed in ten months and i'm starting all over again, with a new set of friends, a new set of eyes, definitely a new body, and a very new awareness about living.

thank you for interacting with me all these months, for supporting me and encouraging me, for making me laugh, for being there. you've been such an enormous part of my healing, and i am so grateful we have made a connection. i want to keep writing when things come up about love, cancer, etc., as i slide into this new life, and definitely when i have follow-up visits with my doctor. i celebrated today with bobbi gillis, my nurse navigator who has been by my side every single day since we met in november, and will celebrate with my family, and later tonight i'll go out on my porch and rock in my rocking chair and watch the mountains grow dark and say "thank you, thank you, thank you" over and over again to everyone who's helped me get to this wonderful end of treatment.

xoxxoxoxo

7.4.09 - goodbye cancer! hello paris!

2009-07-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

my first trip to paris was when i was 18 and went with my father. i had been speaking french since i was 10, was fluent, and loved everything french. i decided to major in french and secondary education in college, and spent my junior year studying in paris, where i met my ex-husband in grammar class when i was 21 and fell in love. in 2003, my oldest son and i spent a week in paris together, and every year since then i've wanted to go back, but something always came up. i have learned from this cancer experience not to postpone happiness.

so today i used some of my frequent flyer miles and booked a flight to paris and reserved a hotel room at Hotel Jeanne d'Arc, which is my very favorite part of paris, the marais. i'll be there for two weeks in october, and my oldest son hopefully will be able to join me. i have french friends that i'll be so happy to see again. and i can hardly wait to speak french again all day and hear it all around me.

this photo is of the building i lived in when i went to college in paris in 1975. i took the photo in 2003 when james and i visited. 5, rue philibert delorme, in the 17th arrondisement.

i never dreamed last september, when i heard "you have a small cancer" that the following july i'd be happy, energetic, healthy, and planning my trip to paris.

la vie est belle!

7.2.09 - radiation #32 of 33 - boost #6 of 7

2009-07-02T14:59:00.000-07:00

ONE MORE TREATMENT LEFT. i've been waiting a long time to say that! monday will be my true independence day, because the rad department will be closed tomorrow.

the photo above shows how radiation has affected my body. the radiated area is much darker because it is very, very red (and itchy as hell). but other than that, no skin issues. the mastectomy was a little over 7 months ago, and the scars have healed beautifully. i love my new body and especially love not wearing a bra, which i always thought was the most bizarre invention on earth. so, thank you, cancer! haha

brought in blueberries and thank-you cards to the techs and dr. rost today, and a CD of some of my very favorite music for dr. rost, because we joke about the god-awful music in the radiation room. imagine, just when you think it can't get any worse, not only are you going through 33 treatments of radiation, but you keep hearing the looped CD with ABBA on it.

people ask me what i'm going to do after treatment. i keep thinking about the article below, which i find very comforting. for the rest of 2009 and all of 2010, i'm going to travel as much as possible every month and not have a plan at all, about anything. i'm going to recover from this intense cancer experience. i'm going to "simply be" and connect with my priorities "in a very organic, unforced way."

Permission To Simply Be

The elation we feel when we have learned an important lesson, achieved a goal, or had a big breakthrough can sometimes be met with a period of downtime afterward. During this period of transition, we may feel unsure and not know where to turn next. Many people, during the pause between achievements, begin to wonder what their life is about. These feelings are common and strike everyone from time to time. Human beings are active creatures—we feel best when we are working on a project or vigorously pursuing a goal. But there is nothing inherently wrong with spending a day, a week, or even a month simply existing and not having a plan. Just be. It won’t be long before you embark upon your next voyage of growth and discovery.

The quiet lull into we which we fall between ideas, projects, and goals can make life seem empty. After accomplishing one objective, you may want to move immediately on to the next. However, when your next step is unclear, you may feel frustrated, disconnected, or even a mild depression. You may even perceive your lack of forward momentum as an indicator of imminent stagnation. To calm these distressing thoughts, try to accept that if your intent is personal growth, you will continue to grow as an individual whether striving for a specific objective or not. Spending time immersed in life’s rigors and pleasures can be a cathartic experience that gives you the time you need to think about what you have recently gone through and leisurely contemplate what you wish to do next. You may also find that in simply being and going through the motions of everyday life, you reconnect with your priorities in a very organic, unforced way.

The mindful transitional pause can take many forms. For some, it can be a period of reflection that helps them understand how their life has unfolded. For others, it can be a period of adjustment, where new values based on recent changes are integrated into daily life. Just because you’re not headed swiftly to a final destination doesn’t mean you should assume that you have lost your drive. The stage between journeys can become a wonderful period of relaxation that prepares you for the path that will soon be revealed to you.

--dailyom.com

7.1.09 - technical difficulties

2009-07-01T18:08:00.000-07:00

dana jennings, who has been writing a blog in the new york times about his prostate cancer experience, has posted a very moving article about Losing a Comforting Ritual: Treatment, which expresses exactly how i'm feeling. i'm glad treatment is almost over, but it's going to be such an adjustment to live without it.

today i got a taste of what dana is talking about, because i couldn't go to radiation because the machine was down for the day. it felt very odd at 1:30 not to leave for the hospital. suddenly it really felt like summer! a whole day of free time! i imagined this feeling for the rest of summer and all winter and all next year and beyond. i think i'm going to like it.

6.30.09 - radiation #31 of 33 - boost #5 of 7

2009-06-30T16:34:00.001-07:00

only two more treatments and that's it!!!!!!!!!

my dear friend gail in austin was chosen to be part of the national campaign sponsored by Nike and Live Strong for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. this is gail's website and the commercial on her june 29th entry. congratulations, gail, for being part of this! gail is known all over the country because of the two eclectic and fantastic stores she owns in downtown austin, and she's definitely part of the "austin scene." gail and i "met" through our blogs, and i hope to finally meet her face to face this fall when scott and i make another texas road trip down to san antonio and down to mexico.

today i had my final treatment meeting with dr. rost. we discussed the possibility of him being my follow-up physician, because i trust him so much and love being his patient, and also so that i don't have to return to my village idiot medical oncologists here in reno. so that's our plan. i'll see dr. rost a month from now and then every three months for the next year. if any of the tests indicate a problem, then dr. rost and i will consult with dr. moasser at UCSF, the medical oncologist i had for my second opinion. i also trust dr. moasser wholeheartedly.

i really feel terrific, even after all this radiation. i have lots of energy and i've lost most of the weight from chemo. by the time i go to dallas in two weeks, i'll be down to 105 again, easily (if i can stay away from the skinny cow ice cream!). i have no skin issues to speak of. the whole radiated area is very red and itchy. i apply aquaphor right after treatment and also before bed, and aloe vera gel during the day for itching. all in all, radiation is a breeze, and i'm very grateful for tomotherapy.

6.29.09 - radiation #30 of 33 - boost #4 of 7

2009-06-29T16:13:00.000-07:00

#30!

my very last monday to have radiation.

my very last monday to have breast cancer treatment, ever???

i was cleaning out my car and found two Google maps i had printed out - one to the medical office where i had last year's annual mammogram, and one to the medical office where i had my MRI to confirm the bad news on the mammogram. the maps are 9 months old. i looked at my handwriting on the maps and felt so sad for the person i was when i wrote on those maps--when i had no idea, could never possibly imagine what was ahead. i can't bring myself to throw them away; i put them in last year's journal.

6.26.09 - radiation #29 of 33 - boost #3 of 7

2009-06-27T07:16:00.000-07:00

radiation #29. my last friday of radiation. down to the finish line! next week, four more boosts and that's it.

thinking back to last september after hearing "you have a small cancer" and then "we're going to hit you hard with chemo" and being surrounded in my living room by every book i could find about cancer and chemo and radiation, the hours and hours and hours i spent reading and researching online, the hours of talking on the phone with women who were having treatment or had finished treatment, the extreme fear i had that after treatment i would not be the same person, that i was handing over my health and all my energy to be ruined completely, that i'd end up with terrible side effects from chemo brain, which some of the women i met were still struggling with even four years after treatment. and here i am at the other end and none of those things happened. i never did experience chemo brain during treatment, i have not lost my health or my energy--if anything, i'll soon be in better shape than i was before my diagnosis, especially where exercise is concerned. i always had a healthy vegetarian diet, but i never exercised every single day.

whenever i think, "oh, i'll exercise twice as much tomorrow," i remember being "in the chair," as the oncology nurses call it, in the chemo room, and i can suddenly smell the alcohol swab on my arm and i can see that huge syringe with adriamycin, and i remember how afraid i was, and how i really needed to hold matt's hand--and he was always there. well, that gets me up and out the door for exercise. i think at least 45-60 minutes of brisk walking every day is worth avoiding 7 hours of taxol every two weeks for two months. every day i had radiation, it took about an hour--driving to the hospital, treatment, driving home--and never disrupted my work schedule. that hour i devoted to radiation for over a month, i can easily devote to exercise. & i hope by september i'll be hiking the steep hills near my home for two hours/day like i was last october and november, before my mastectomy. i need to build up my stamina for our trip to paris - i want to be able to walk at least 7 hours/day!!

6.25.09 - radiation #28 - boost #2 of 7

2009-06-25T18:35:00.001-07:00

my friend debbie buckner in north carolina sent me this card! i showed it to dr. rost and the techs. thanks, debbie, for always making me laugh. i think often about the fact that if i had not had cancer, i would not have met debbie. i had seen the powerful photos of debbie on flickr taken by my friend kristi hedberg, and i remember feeling so sad that this young woman had cancer. when i announced on flickr that i had cancer, kristi gave me debbie's phone number, said we had a lot in common. little did i know i was about to make a lifelong friend and one who would be there for me every day through my ordeal. she prepared me for everything that could possibly happen, she was there for me when i was afraid and crying, and she made me laugh all through my four difficult months of chemo. when i think back on my experience, i always think of debbie.

had boost #2 today - only 5 more to go!!!!!!

6.24.09 - radiation #27 - boost #1 of 7

2009-06-24T15:11:00.001-07:00

quel surprise! today i had my first boost radiation out of 7. 14 grays per boost. a total of 65 grays for my entire treatment. the boost took 3.5 minutes - same tomotherapy machine, same everything. a boost means that the radiation is concentrated on specifically the tumor area rather than the entire right breast area. i'm still not feeling any fatigue that i had been warned about. i have lots of energy and feel terrific.

so. six more treatments. dr. rost asked me today how i feel about ending treatment. the only thing i'm going to miss about treatment is seeing the friendly staff and especially dr. rost, who always makes me smile. i'm so glad he's going to be my follow-up doctor from now on. i told him that it's unnerving to end treatment because i feel fatalistic about recurrence, without anything actively killing the cancer cells every day. i feel like once treatment stops, the cancer will start growing again, like it did with my mother and grandmother--cancer spread to the bone. he said "we'll be watching closely."

Tricia Luedtke at TomoTherapy wrote to me today and said, "Treat yourself to some daily indulgences, however big or small." that's a great philosophy to end treatment with.

6.23.09 - radiation #26 - Radiation & New York Times

2009-06-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

radiation #26

Dana Jennings has been writing a wonderful blog about his experience with prostate cancer in the New York Times. Today he wrote about his experience with TomoTherapy. If you scroll down after reading the article, you will see my comment.

Also in the NYT today, Tell Us Your Radiation Story. I joined others in writing about my experience.

If you had or are having radiation, I hope you'll add to the comments.

I am reading Journal: A Mother and Daughter's Recovery from Breast Cancer by Lynn Redgrave and her daughter Annabel Clark. All I can say is - MEMORABLE, REMARKABLE. Lynn's words and Annabel's photography take my breath away and remind me vividly of what my mastectomy and recovery experience was like. it seems like it was years ago, but it's only been 7 months.

6.22.09 - radiation #25

2009-06-22T15:46:00.000-07:00

radiation #25 - only 10 more to go!!!

i'm so used to driving the 15 minutes to the hospital every day, i ended up there this weekend when i was going to the farmers' market - without thinking, just took the turn to the hospital. i really need my upcoming vacation!

6.19.09 - radiation #24

2009-06-19T19:55:00.000-07:00

this is a photo of me (with hair!!) with scott last summer at caddo lake, in big pine lodge, a landmark restaurant in uncertain, texas, that has been a favorite of thousands of people all over the area for decades. incredible southern cooking. it burned to the ground a couple of weeks ago - heartbreaking. i'm so glad we have photos of our wonderful times there. two years ago we took my mom and her beau to caddo and had fantastic meals there--and we took lots of photos. we'll be at caddo again in only 27 days!

remember that simon & garfunkel song, titled "old friends"? "long ago, it must be, i have a photograph. preserve your memories. they're all that's left you."

i had lunch today with my sweet daughter-in-law!

today in the waiting room:

a family with two little girls about 10 years old. one of the girls was upset because the blue fish in the aquarium had died and was gone. you can imagine the mood in the waiting room. i know every one of us in that room has been thinking about our own death ever since the shock of our diagnosis. poor blue fish.

6.18.09 - radiation #23

2009-06-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

radiation #23

one of the techs kept telling me i look just like her daughter-in-law, and she brought in photos. we do look very, very much alike. since i'm adopted, these kinds of resemblances intrigue me. she told me that her daughter-in-law's father was adopted, and they're in dallas, where i grew up. i know my birth mother gave away another daughter before i was born. what are the odds we could be related in some way??

in the waiting room today:

patricia, whose husband has brain and lung cancer, and who often holds a rosary, said she hasn't had a mammogram in years, even though her aunt and cousin had breast cancer and mastectomies. you know i was all over that. she said her husband was having trouble with his eyesight, and the eye doctor didn't detect his problem. later it was discovered that he had a brain tumor behind the eye and also in the lungs. he has lost the eyesight in one eye. she and her husband moved here 4 years ago from san jose. together we lamented the lack of decent restaurants here, especially vietnamese and thai. but we applauded the complete lack of stress compared to the bay area, and the miraculous free parking everywhere. her mother and daughter and grandchild are still in san jose and she's very lonesome for them. i know that feeling--i felt that way until i moved here to live near matt. now i miss one son all the time instead of two. patricia and i discovered we live near each other, and she lives in the same neighborhood as lesley. so we plan to meet for walks and coffee.

hula hooping is fun! and an amazing cardio workout.

6.17.09 - radiation #22

2009-06-17T16:48:00.000-07:00

radiation #22

the tomotherapy machine went down today and they were running about 45 minutes late. grouchiness in the waiting room.

the photo above is of my friend lesley aka tori (what she's named her blonde wig!). lesley and i "met" on breastcancer.org and discovered that we live less than a mile from each other. we've been meeting for lunch for quite a few months now. lesley is 40 and is going through the same breast cancer treatment that i had--AC/T, radiation, bilateral mastectomy. a year ago lesley found a lump in her breast, but thought it was part of the scar tissue from her implant. fast-forward to a year later when the lump was bigger and became painful, and she was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer which spread to her lymph nodes. she's now a very vocal advocate for paying attention to lumps and not waiting to have them checked out. it's so wonderful to spend hours over lunch with lesley every few weeks, to talk about our treatment, about our lives, about death, about everything. i am so grateful for breastcancer.org, where i have met so many wonderful women, especially lesley.