Houston, We Have A Problem...My Eyelashes Falling Out.

As a newbie to chemo the information that I had all about the process came from the media, a little from my doctor, nothing from the nurse administering it and a lot from the angel getting chemo next to me. She too was living with stage IV cancer that had spread and was back for another round  to battle the outbreak. She and her friend gave me so much information and hope that I hadn’t had since my ordeal had begun.  She even got mad along with me at the 45 minutes it took the nurse to insert the needle to administer the medicine. The following week I received a port, which is a permanent tube in my vein that a certified professional (stress certified) can access to administer medication or draw blood to make this process go much smoother, until then, finding veins is like mining for gold. Sometimes it just didn’t pan out. This port is a junkie's dream. 

“I like your haircut” said our sweet 6 year old neighbor kid, Malachai about my bald head. Actually, I kind of like the freedom that comes with being bald as there is no shampooing, blow drying, straightening or fussing over unruly hair. This makes getting ready for work much easier! Plus, I am a little obsessed shopping for hats and scarves to adorn my baldness. What I cannot come to grips with and that is not ok with me is if I lose my beloved eyebrows! I’ve lost a few eyelashes and my sister, Cathie-the stylist, is on the prowl for eyelash extensions. Apparently there are some on the market.

Who knew?

I had my first chemo on a Friday and by Sunday I felt like I had been hit by a bus-everything I did was hard, like I was walking through mud. My boss had told me that since I only had chemo every 3 weeks, she thought I have “only little cancer” but she allowed my awesome co-worker to open the restaurant for me so I didn't have to come in so early on those days that the bus left me in the mud puddle. This helped so much. On those rough days all I could do was make it from the bed to the couch and not move until the medication kicked in. Once the anti-nausea medication kicked in life got a little bearable, I could move, get ready for work, grab an energy drink and get out the door. Since I was on a three week cycle, I would feel horrible for about a week and a half, then slowly begin to feel better after the end of the second week. By the third week I was jamming and ready for the second round of chemo to start the process all over again. 

I met with Dr. Fisher after my first session...she had great news! The chemo had shrunk the tumor 30%.

I've never been seriously sick a day in my life although I secretly feared getting cancer as my mother died from the dreaded disease in 2000. Each step in my cancer treatment and emotional process took a chunk away of my denial. I focused every ounce of energy that I could on staying positive, but sometimes I just couldn't crack a joke and the annoying people annoyed me. It was and is too real, too raw. I hovered above the scariness of it all. I'd mumble "not yet" when hospital staff would ask if I had an Advanced Directive for Healthcare as I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. It wasn't until the tough personal questions like when my sister asked if she could have my dog, Eddie, (the answer is no, Eddie stays with Sheri who has Bama and Kona. I will not separate the three), or when Sheri asked me if I had a sense of how long I'd be in this life, with her, started coming when I realized that it just wasn't me that had cancer, everyone I loved was going through this as well. The feelings began sinking in. I felt for my family.

What really made me confront my own mortality was the day that my temperature rose, which is a bad sign for  someone getting chemo because the body is really susceptible to infection. We called the doctor and were immediately directed to go to the emergency room. Upon getting the blood test results we found that I had no white blood cells and I was put on lock down in a private room: no fresh flowers, no raw fruits and vegetables because of the pesticides and it was suggested that visitors wear masks.

I was scared. The shit got real.

48 hours later and a couple hundred white blood cell booster shot and I was paroled...

At least I still have my eyebrows. 

It Get's Worse...Then Life.

The longer the wait to perform the PET scan due to missing reports and insurance snafu's, the more sure I was that the type of cancer that was in my body was not happy and content sitting and growing in just my breast. I knew it was spreading. I was hoping that the pain I was having in my hip was just arthritis and in my abdomen was just gas. I had hoped that my fear was just anxiousness to get the show on the road with chemo and getting better.

It was not just anxiousness.

Both  my Oncologist, Dr.Jennifer Fisher-a real cool clinician who balanced out the motherly Surgeon DrMaryKatherineMurphy called with the news, it was Dr. Murphy who gave me the news first.

The PET scan showed that the cancer had spread to my hip and my liver had two lesions on it. This was the bad news. I had Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer. That was Stage IV out of IV Stages on the How Bad is the Cancer cancer scale. Sheri had asked Dr. Fisher for an explanation of the stages as it pertained specifically to me when we first met her. She explained that Stage III was when the cancer had not progressed beyond the affected organ. Stage IV cancer happened when the cancer has spread to other areas in the body. It can never be cured but it can be put into remission for periods at a time though eventually, it will come back.

When explaining my diagnosis that night, both doctor's stressed that I could live many good years with periods of remission and chemo when the cancer comes back. The good news was that there are only one lesion on my hip and 2 lesions on my liver; Chemo will stop these and probably erase them for the time being.

I was with my sister, Cathie, when I got the call. Then I called Sheri. As soon as she answered, my tears started flowing and I couldn't talk. I passed the phone to Cathie who explained to Sheri the new diagnosis. She arranged for her husband to pick Sheri up and bring her to their house since I had the car.

As a family, we circled the wagons and began planning

I had been jokingly whining "but I have cancer..." whenever I had the chance to get out of something. That night Cathie and sister by choice, Heidi began joking back "but you're not broken!" and thus began a new idea. In this family every event is celebrated with a party. My cancer was no exception. I decided that I could not wait for my hair to begin to fall out on it's own. I didn't think I could handle chunks of hair coming loose in my hands. I needed to be proactive; A head shaving party was scheduled! My long auburn locks would be donated to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for kids with cancer whose family can't afford them on their own. Without my knowledge everyone who would be there would wear the shirts that Heidi had made that read: "She has cancer...She is not broken." She made me two shirts one for pre-mastectomy and one post that read: "I have cancer...I am not broken."

Another discussion that lightened up the dark news that night was a wish that I have always had. My family is very close and my all time favorite place to be is in Hawaii. So we decided to plan a trip for all of us. Now I didn't ask my sister to do this, it was something that she did on her own as a way to help me out because as we were talking about this trip, my head was asking "how can we afford this?" and I could almost hear the cash register "cha-ching" in Sheri's head, but Cathie started a blog Trip for Tits to help us raise funds. Even if you can't chip in, please hit like and share to pass it on.-It will make all of us really happy.

I am blessed to go through this with the support that I have, my partner, my family by blood and by choice. Regardless of how long I have, at least I have that.

Tests, Tests and More Tests...

"I am kindly asked by Dr. Kaufhold to assist in the care of this lovely 46 year old lady who has inflammatory carcinoma of the right breast," writes DrMaryKatherineMurphy in the summary of her biopsy. Not your usual dry, boring medical report.
So there it was, confirmed, right there on paper. I had cancer.
The good news was that although inflammatory carcinoma was fast moving, my type had hormone receptors that ensured success with the type of chemo that would be given to me.
Because I felt OK, except for my boob hurting. DrMaryKatherineMurphy felt that the cancer had remained in the breast and had not spread to any other part of my body except for a small lump maybe in my lymph nodes that was too small to biopsy.
This brought me to stage III cancer out of IV stages. The plan was four months of chemo to shrink the 3.5 centimeter tumor, a double mastectomy that would include reconstructive surgery, and then radiation after that.
Up next, a PET scan and meeting my oncologist.

DoctorMaryKatherineMurphy

"Although she's straight, she's Catholic and very nice." said my primary physician, lesbian Dr. Kaufold, about the surgeon who she was referring me to who would do my mastectomy.
"Well I used to be straight and Catholic." I replied.
Dr. Kaufold was right, DrMaryKatherineMurphy (we say her name just like it is written, it makes much more sense that way) was very nice. She was also very scattered and disorganized appearing to be much like a modern day version of a nurturing absent minded healer who makes potions for whatever ailment is brought to her by the townspeople.
Dr. Kaufhold said that DrMaryKatherineMurphy would be staying late that night, a Friday, in order to see me and gave us her cell phone number as well. Unfortunately, something came up for the doctor and she conducted a verbal assesment over the phone. The call lasted over an hour and covered everything from my medical history to Sheri's recent illness, our dogs, my high school softball years and belly button lint.
By the time Sheri and I made it to her crowded office the first time for a biopsy we figured we were in for a wait due to her style.
An hour and a half later she breezed in from surgery and started seeing patients who were waiting in the waiting room. It seemed that she was worth the wait. After a while we were led into a room where instead of the usual doctor's room table, there was a low leather bench with no arms or back. DrMaryKatherineMurphy asked some follow up questions, talked about our dogs, then instructed me to lay down on the bench. Sheri would kneel at my head stroking my hair and she would perch like a bird near my shoulder to take a biopsy of the breast which by now was beginning to hurt.
The good doctor was not the organized type, nor was she the type of person who was organized in clutter. No she was disorganized in disorganization. Drawers were overstuffed with supplies and she dug through them throwing everything that she didn't need over her shoulder until she found the item that she was looking for, usually at the bottom of the drawer.
Whenever she stepped out of the room to look for something Sheri and I would crack up under our breath at this woman!
Once all the supplies were gathered, the biopsy began. The site on my breast above the tumor was numbed and a large needle was inserted. DrMaryKatherineMurphy sucked up fragments of the tumor and put it into a test tube to send to the lab. Since part of the tumor was on the outside in the form of a rash, she biopsied the skin using what looked to Sheri like a hole punch. I could see Sheri's eyes get real big like a kid who had just seen a fire truck drive by with lights flashing and siren whaling as a sample of my skin was taken and put in solution for testing. "Whoa, that was cool!" she said. I just rolled my eyes at her "Seriously?"
As Dr. Murphy worked through the procedure, she tossed the gauze used to sop up blood onto a sterile mat that she had layed on the floor. Amidst the bloody gauze, used syringes, test tubes and other surgical material were the Dr.'s keys and her cell phone. As she was cleaning up, she looked at Sheri's neck bandage covering the hole in her trachea from when she was on the ventilator while she was sick with pneumonia. "Now, let's have a look at that." Sheri was on a different insurance plan that did not include the good doctor and there was a waiting room full of people that had been waiting for a long time, yet there she was fixing the dressing on my lady love's throat.
Strangely, I was and am comforted by DrMaryKatherineMurphy.

The Beginning

Of course I felt it. I felt it every month, the lump in my breast that went away a week or so after my period ended. The problem was that the lump that I felt in December was like the dinner guest that stayed long after their welcome.  You're yawning, and they're not contributing anything of value to the conversation or picking up on your not so subtle hints to leave. They just sit there, taking up space.

The lump didn't just sit there, it began to grow and become uncomfortable. I was convinced that it was just a swollen gland.

My trip to the doctor to get it checked out was postponed when my partner nearly died with pneumonia and sepsis, and was put into an induced coma. My days were spent working and going to the hospital, besides, I just had an infection of the boob right? RIGHT?

Sheri was released from the hospital and I made an appointment at the clinic to get some antibiotics. She knew Dr. Kaufhold and gave her a heads up on what was happening. That day was a whirlwind. Dr. Kaufhold did a breast exam, sat back and said she felt nothing good about the lump in my breast. "It could be a swollen gland, an infection, or cancer. I'll need more tests but it feels like cancer or an infection along with cancer." She gave me some antibiotics and pain meds that did not come close to addressing the pain and sent us immediately to the Imaging Center for a mammogram and ultrasound. The boob being squished in a vice hurt like a biatch!

The way Dr. Kaufhold had things progressing just kind of confirmed what I had known and feared even without having any more tests.

I had cancer.

Sure there was hope that I didn't but I was pretty sure that I did. I had feared getting cancer ever since my mom died of pancreatic cancer in 2000. Not only did she let the disease progress until it was too late, but my parent's kept a lot of information to themselves that they wouldn't share with us kids. Being kept in the dark was worse because the secrets made it hard to emotionally process the losing of the woman who had given us life. We made a pact that if anything were to happen to any of us, we would not keep it to ourselves. We would tell each other immediately. My first thought after the realization hit me that I had the disease was "How am I going to tell my sister?" We have a close relationship and I wanted to protect her, my brother and older sister at any cost. It would be easier to go through this alone or with Sheri and not burden them with this. I hated the fact that they would have to go through the worry and fear.I just wanted to protect them.

I called my sister that day it was the worst I had heard her cry in my whole life. I just wanted to make it OK for her as I did not want her to hurt.  Cathie was able to tell our brother and sister, this was a task that I just could not bring myself to do. I told the ladies in my support group but I didn't make big announcements. Those who were close, I tried to tell them in person. Telling people I had cancer was like a slow coming out process as the veil of denial lifted from my eyes.

As the numbness set in I was aware of some spiritual tools that fell into place to keep me sane and out of fear. The first was I stayed in the moment, only looking at the next indicated step. I would not allow myself to worry about "what if?" scenarios. Instead I focused on heading to the pharmacy, to a meeting, or cooking dinner.

I feel positive that I will survive this, dying is not an option and I have an awesome support group with my family and friends. I am amazed that God put Sheri and I in each other's lives at the right time to fall in love and blend our lives. I was able to be there through her illness, she recovered just in time to be there for me. God is good.

This is my first public announcement about my cancer. My friend, Kim, suggested I write a blog to keep everyone up to date on what is happening and to record my feelings and impressions of this path. I believe that my writing leaves a lot to be desired, so I'm telling Sheri what I want to say and she's doing the writing. Any errors are her fault.