A little sad, a little sleepy, a little sore

The most recent trip to GW Hospital went pretty well – as I described the other day. However, I didn’t quite imagine that the healing process would leave me so tender.

I am thankful for the advances in science that make it possible for me to have this port implanted. I am not however, too excited about having it just yet because it is making sleep (one of my favorite things) a little more difficult to come by. The area around the port is really tender. It is covered in bandages (which come just to the base of my neck) and generally, I’m just uncomfortable. At night, I am constantly tossing and turning because I have to place my breasts just so… in order to minimize the pain from either the weight of my boobies pulling at the bandages or the pressure from my body weight pressing on the tender area.

So… I had a hard night’s rest last night. Despite being quite tired, I didn’t sleep much. That’s okay since I have a long weekend to try to get in the sleep that I’ve missed.

This morning as I was changing my bandages in the bathroom at work – I burst into tears when I looked at the bruising around the port and the catheter and the surgi-strips holding it all together. I can’t even explain what made me cry. Pulling bandages off tender skin is never that much fun, but I don’t know if that was why I cried or if it was something more.

Its Friday, my cousin is coming to visit and it’s a holiday weekend. I have been elated over far less… but I am really sad right now. I think it’s the impending chemotherapy.

Short work weeks are rarely fun, but I will only be in the office one, maybe two days next week. I have to go to the hospital every day next week (except the holiday) for one reason or another… and I am scared again. I am worried about the work that I imagine (well, know) will pile up while I am out. I am worried about the results of my CT scans. I don’t know what they are looking for, so I’m worried about what they may find. And really, I have no idea what to expect on Thursday, the first day of chemotherapy.

I mean really… what’s that like? To sit for hours while you knowingly let someone pump chemicals into your body to kill certain cells seems really outrageous – and crazy. Am I crazy? Should I refuse chemo and start researching other ways to treat this? Are there other ways to treat cancer? And why are so many women suffering (and dying in some cases) from breast cancer? I know that its treatable, I know that many women go on to lead wonderful productive lives… but I also know that at least one woman, my aunt Vinnie Lee, died from breast cancer.

I think about my aunt Vinnie a lot now. I wasn’t very close to her. She was my eldest aunt on my mom’s side. And my clearest memories of her include some wretched wigs (sorry auntie… but its true) and how I didn’t get a popsicle for dessert one night because I refused to eat liver. (gag…) But aunt Vinnie was still my auntie…and just like I love all my aunties, I loved her too and I knew that she loved me. She died quite a few years ago now, and at the time of her death we didn’t know why she died. We only knew that she was sick. We found out (well, I found out) later that she had breast cancer and died from it.

I remember being a little angry finding out about it after her death. Thinking that it was something that the family should have known about sooner but ultimately, she wanted to deal with it in her own way. Now that I am facing the same thing, I can understand wanting to maintain some control over your life… though I feel like I need to wear a t-shirt or something so that everyone knows. But then, you know that I’m different that way.

I hate hearing “I have breast cancer” in my head or the way my voice cracks every time I say it. I absolutely hate it. And I am beginning to loathe the way that people look at me as though I’m about to die on the spot. (I don’t hate the people, I just hate that pity-look in their eyes) I despise looking at my “fabulous boobies” and seeing them swollen, bandaged and bruised. And I hate looking at them now, knowing they won’t look the same way in a few months.

Its weird feeling so out of control over your own body. I don’t know how other people with life-altering, life-threatening illnesses deal with it… but Nicole is struggling with feeling like I am at the mercy of other people. Normally, I am a strong advocate of hiring the right professional for the job. You can’t be an expert at all things, right? That logic is failing me now. Why can’t I fix this? Its my body, shouldn’t I know how to care for it?

Right now, I still blame myself. What didn’t I know, didn’t I do, or what did I do? Was a bad person, did I hurt someone and this is my punishment? Is God angry with me? Did I drink too much, eat too little liver…? Should I have run more, or should I have gotten a reduction years ago when my boobies were growing out of control? Would that have changed things? Should I have had children years ago, even though I wasn’t ready..? Or should I have been more happy – like a recent article suggested – in order to make sure that I didn’t get breast cancer? What did I do wrong?

I guess I have finally hit the “why me” stage. I keep thinking that if I can figure out what I did wrong, then maybe I can fix it. And I won’t continue to feel so out of control, so needy for someone else to do for, or care for me…

I guess I’m rambling… and I’m starting to cry again. Maybe it’s the rain. It tends to make me moody and sleepy. So… here’s where we start the final weekend of the summer… sad, weepy, scared, sore, sleepy and generally out of sorts. Someone shared a link to a t-shirt company’s website where all the t-shirts said basically one thing…

F*CK Cancer.

I really couldn’t have come up with a better line if I tried.

Today I met Tay...

I was so anxious... that I woke up at 4:00 am. I looked around my room (and lawd... this room is a horrible SIGHT...whew)... and realized that I was up just a wee bit too early. So... I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.

Bad move.

LOL... but my honey called me and woke me up just before 6am, so we could get to the hospital on time. I pulled on my sweats and a t-shirt (they told me to dress comfortably) and we were off... starting the latest adventure in Nic-land (or the N-world as I used to call it).

I will reiterate... I don't want to question God... but man, this journey is not one I would have picked for myself.

We got to the hospital in record time and I checked in with minimal difficulties. Actually, none.

My first funny/interesting event was the actual admission process. After signing my name on too many documents to remember... I was handed this very nice folder -- a "welcome to GW Hospital" packet.

I felt like a freshman on the first day of class. Surreal. lol... And like a good freshman, I didn't read a thing in the packet and just put it to the side. Ha!

We went upstairs to radiology and I got my second funny/interesting encounter. After I checked in there, I was given an electronic buzzer -- you know the kind you get at a busy restaurant to let you know when your table is ready.

BF and I were like... wow. GW is slick with theirs... LOL. A new folder AND a buzzer... insurance dollars at work.

The waiting room reminded me of the waiting area at an airport -- seriously -- lots of chairs, focused on a television in the corner and large windows. While I was still laughing at the constantly buzzing device in my hand... out walked this very petite girl to take me back into the staging area.

That was Tay. And I'm writing about Tay today because she made today a great experience for me.

Tay looked to be about 22 or so... but it turned out that she was 38 years old. A very pretty and very grounded 38 year old woman.

I am a firm believer that some people are just called to do some jobs and that when you encounter them, they can change your outlook on life just by being exactly who they were destined to be. I believe that about Tay.

We chatted a lot... which for me was interesting because I was still rather tired. But Tay and I chatted about God, His blessings and favor and life in general. I was really blessed to meet her today... she was the first person I encountered in the hospital who made me feel as though it really was her pleasure to meet me and to help me during this time.

Tay put me at ease about what was going to happen to me. She shared her story with me about having faith that children are a possibility for even me. She went through IVF and now has a 2 year old baby as evidence that no matter what circumstances may look like on the outside, God often has a plan that is much bigger than that. She told me that "if a woman with no fallopian tubes can have a baby, then if that is His will for you... you too will have children". Tay was that sister without fallopian tubes, who endured nearly 50 injections in her hip and another 40 in her stomach, just to have the chance to have a child.

Now, naturally, she did not have to share any of that with me... or any of the other stories that she did this morning. But the fact that she did, that she shared her faith with me, her concerns about life and living... her sensitivity to what I was feeling and would be going through over the next few months... was nothing short of a miracle.

How many times have any of us been in an anxious position or in a hurry... and run smack into an employee from hell? Someone who made a bad situation a whole lot worse just because they didn't have their heads in the game? That could have been me this morning... but it wasn't.

Instead.... I was relaxed and able to giggle with my boyfriend while I waited to be wheeled into surgery. I can go as far as to say... I enjoyed myself today. Bizarre right?

So when Manis came to put me on the gurney, I was ready. I wasn't teary or sad... I was lifted and buoyed, ready to tackle another step in the journey.

The ride on the gurney was fun. (crazy I know, lol) It felt like a weird roller coaster ride. I even cracked a joke about it to Manis... the vantage point is weird and bizarre and you feel (well, I felt) like I was outside of myself just scooting down the hall and watching people move out of my way. It was cool. :)

We made it to the radiology room...and then I lost my breath. The room was filled with large machines and screens everywhere. It looked more like a television studio (or what I would guess a TV studio looked like) than an operating room. These machines were massive -- and the table looked a little small/narrow to hold all of me. But I fit. LOL...

So, they used these big radiology machines to guide the catheter into my vein and they created a "pocket" to slip it under my skin. It is just below my collar bone. Now... I'm telling you all this based on what I was told by the radiology technicians. I still haven't seen it because its covered up with bandages.

Oh yeah... shout out to Shenfen! :) She was also a sweetie pie nurse/technician who made my day smooth.

(okay... now, the roll call so far is Tay, Manis, and Shenfen...lol)

Each of those ladies were very compassionate, and kind... and they explained themselves very calmly so that I wasn't upset or discouraged during the process.

So... eventually I got on the table and Shenfen and Manis started prepping me. Now, y'all know that my boobies (my fabulous boobies...haha) are pretty big. One thing I've recently noticed is how they sort of choke/smother me a little at night if I don't place them correctly. (yeah, I can hear y'all snickering... but its true)

How 'bout... when I was laying on the table and Shenfen was prepping the area where they placed the implant... she looked at how my boobie sort of gravitated toward my neck (I am not making this up) and she TAPED my boobie down.

I had long strips of tape going every which way across my boobie and my gown. It would have been hilarious... if Manis hadn't given me my sedative IV at the same time. Just when I was about to crack a joke that I needed Shenfen to come home and show me how to tape 'em down every night... I was OUT. lol...

So, I missed everything... and that's cool. I'm sort of a squeamish punk when it comes to blood and such. Especially my own. Though I handled the needle Tay gave me like a champ. I woke up just as Shenfen was removing the tape from the boobie and putting on the bandages over the port and the catheter.

I still have no idea what it looks like under there but I did get a nice parting gift of a couple of well placed bandages and a hard lump that I can feel through them. Niiiccceee, right? Dontcha want one too?

Hilarious.

I got wheeled out of radiology (wasn't as much fun this time because I kept dozing off)... and back into the staging area where I got to continue my fabulous nap. I don't know what Manis put in that drip but ooooohhh weeeee... that was some good sleep. Whew...

Woke up to a new nurse... Mary (we're gonna add her to the nurse roll call too) and she was a kind lady. She asked me if I wanted anything to drink... and I said juice. They had both apple and cranberry... and since I couldn't decide which one, she gave me both! Score... instant CRAN-APPLE!

(see, its the little things that make Nic happy... )

They lost my boyfriend for awhile... not sure how they did that... but eventually Mary found him right outside in the waiting room which is where I knew he would be. She went through the proper procedure initially (twice actually) and when that didn't work, she asked me for his cellphone number and called my baby on the phone so he could come and get me. Isn't that great? She didn't have to do that... she could have just left me sitting there to fend for myself.

After he came in and she briefed him about what happened, how I took things and all that... she arranged for me to be wheeled downstairs when he brought the truck around. And since she was aware that her desk lady was a little... well, special... she had him call me on my cell phone to alert her when I needed to go downstairs.

Again... its the little things that people do, that they don't have to do, that let you know that not only are they good at what they do -- but they are called to do what they do. Just as the wheelchair came up, Tay walked by and as I was waving by... she offered to wheel me downstairs to meet my boo.

I warned her on the way down, that he was going to hug her (we're big huggers) and of course he did. I wish I had my camera... it was a nice picture. She was a nice and very memorable sister. Like I said... she single-handedly changed my day, reduced my anxiety ... all by being fully herself at work.

I need to be more like her tomorrow. :)

That's about it. The rest of the day... really was nothing much. We went to McDonald's... that southern chicken sandwich is the truth... and then I came home and got into the bed. Finished up the rest of that good ol' anesthesia... seems to be just a little bit left in my bloodstream... I'm holding out until I finish the blog.

More GOOOD napping ... coming right up. :)

Gotta hit the hospital at the crack of dawn...

I'm not a morning person. I try to be pleasant but it tends to come out as a blank look and lots of silence. I know, that's sad. But I do try... I'm telling you that so that some of you will consider praying for the hospital staff tomorrow since I have to check in at 7 am to have my port implanted.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Port-a-Cath

I was really freaked out initially when they told me that they were going to put a device in my chest so that they could give me my chemo without going through the veins in my arms. When the doctor and the nurse described what could happen to my skin and muscles if the chemo missed the vein...

I was like... "uh... check please!"

But, I've talked to a few sisters who have gone through chemo and they tell me that its pretty easy going... getting the port. I'm keeping in mind that they have already been through chemo so I'd guess that just about anything is EASY after all that... but we'll see.

Not going to post long... like I said... I have to get up at the crack of dawn. But I wanted to let you know that I'm down to just a few crying spurts now... so I definitely feel like I'm turning a corner.

Just a couple of things...

First, I am so very loved. It is hard for me to say that without getting misty but I am slowly realizing that a lot of people really care about me. Even total strangers... have shown me unexpected love throughout this madness. Example...a woman (whom I have never met) who is a friend of a work colleague has decided to do the 3 day breast cancer walk in October. She told me the other day on the phone (our second conversation) that she is walking in my honor.

Did I mention that I have never met this lady in my life? Do you know how humbling that is? It is amazing.

Another example... some of you know about or are members of, my social networking group, DC Sistagirls. Well, I found out recently that some of those wonderful women were trying to surprise me with a gift to help me get through this time. They tried to keep it a secret from me -- which is very hard to do -- but inadvertently, I found out. I cried for an hour because it was one of the sweetest gestures I have ever experienced.... I love that group so much but I don't think I really realized that they had the same love for me. I never really thought about it coming back... I just wanted to make sure that they knew that I thought they were wonderful, caring, successful women who held (collectively and individually) so much power, so much promise, and so much greatness ... that I felt it was necessary that they shared it with other women just like them.

Third example... my boyfriend is the best. The absolute best. He has taken me to every doctor's appointment -- except one. And he showed up for that one anyway. He has sat in many waiting rooms in/around GW hospital waiting on me, napping off and on... and making friendly contact with other waiting patients. He is my ray of sunshine... even when I can't shine back for him. I don't know how I would have made it without him.

Some of the people closest to me in my life, are really not taking this news well. And because of that... they aren't able to be supportive to me in a way that works for me. I know that they care, they just can't express it.

I could go on and on... about the cards I've received (that have made me smile and cry at the same time), and the phone messages, and the notes of encouragement... the stories of blessings like one recently shared with me by a great friend -- a soul stirring testimony of a sister who went through breast cancer and was told she couldn't have kids... only to make the devil a liar in the end -- and so on. I read every message -- even if I can't respond right away. Usually I can't respond because I'm so choked up emotionally... I'm just speechless.

I'm learning some lessons -- lessons that I wish I could have learned in a different way but, who am I to question God? One lesson that I'm learning... that I knew I needed help with (and will continue to need help with)... is learning to receive.

Giving is so easy for me. I give and give... it makes me feel good, it makes me feel worthy, it makes me feel strong. I won't lie. I love to give and am saddened when I can't give, for whatever reasons... It hurts my feelings to be unable to help someone out when I know that they have a need. However, accepting and receiving... is so much more difficult. It requires a different type of strength. The strength to fully realize that no matter what you have or don't have... whether you can reciprocate or not... you are worthy of being blessed.

I am worthy? Just because....

I am struggling with this one... I really am. I don't want any of you to think that I am unappreciative... I am overwhelmed with the love and the blessings that you have shared with me. Thank you seems so insufficient for the way that I feel.

Somebody cares for me. Little ol' me. Cranky, rude, obstinate... me. Somebody cares for that girl... and is unafraid to say so, to share it, to do something to make my life easier....

...tears. :)

Thank you.

Coming around slowly...

Let me say thanks to everyone who has offered a kind word, a book suggestion, a website to review, a friend or relative to talk to... THANK YOU. Seriously, thank you. Once I am comfortably assured that I won't lose my composure willy-nilly... I will check it all out.

Whew... the anger is going down. I'm still mad but not like I was on Thursday. I spent the weekend crying a lot. Thursday and Friday especially... but by Sunday, I was coming around to the notion that ... once again... my life is not going the way that I had planned. And I am going to have to get okay with it very quickly if I am going to be able to handle all the changes that are coming my way.

One big scary part of all of this is making the right decisions. There are so many questions and options thrown my way... and I want to make the right decisions for my health but also for my personal comfort level.

I will say it again... because for some reason, people don't seem to hear me...

I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY BREAST.

Every time I say those words to someone, they give me this look. Sort of a mixture between pity and confusion. As though I don't fully grasp what is going on with my body and am having either a delayed reaction or I am somehow defining who I am as a person by these fat bags on my chest. Neither is true.

I wouldn't want to lose my arm, my leg, my toe or my finger... either. However, in my case, it is a left breast that I am trying to hold on to. It came with the rest of the package and I'd like to keep it. Please and thank you.

I am getting it. I am really quite ill. I never knew, don't feel any differently than I have for the past 39 years... but yes, I have cancer and its pretty doggone bad.

I get it.

I also get that I have more than one tumor in my breast that needs to come out of my body. I understand that completely. I'd like Fred and his friends evicted from my boobie too. More than anybody else, I'd like to say. However, I am confused as to why the whole house has to be torn down because of a few rowdy visitors.

Why can't we kick them out, wash down the walls, put in some new carpet and call it a day? What's with the whole demolition deal?? I'm not FEELING this.

The option to take away my whole breast on the off-chance that the cancer might come back seems absurd. (I'm being really honest, it seems downright stupid to me) And then to insert a fake boob where the real one was... so that it appears that nothing is different, seems even more absurd. And the cherry on top... is to finally "adjust" the other, perfectly fine one... so that they match.

I'm going to take your arm off, even though only a few fingers are problematic, then I'm going to give you a new arm to replace the old arm and finally... because the new arm won't look exactly like the old arm, we're going to do some things to it, so they match.

??? Why doesn't anyone else see this as screwy but me?

(and for the last time, I am not Christina Applegate)

Anyhoo... like I said... I'm coming around. It is a slow progression but I'm making it. I have to. I can't miss seeing the first black president of the United States. I gotta get it right, right now... because there may not be another chance.

But I don't like this... at all.

I still look cute...

Well, the tears won't stop now. And I'm going to have to figure out a way to compartmentalize my feelings so that I can work and actually get stuff done.

BUT... I wanted to throw out there... that I still look cute. :)

My hair is so sharp and my eyebrows are PER-FEC-TION (thanks d'brows!)... and if I must say so myself, my makeup was particularly wonderful today...

I look GOOOO-OOOOD!

Y'all can ask my baby. He couldn't keep his eyes off me today (well, when he wasn't snoozing in the waiting room....)


Smooches! Love you...

{{{{{{{{ HUGS }}}}}}}}}


...guess there's still a little of the ol' Nic in here after all.

FAIR WARNING: all y'all with small kids... beware of Auntie Nic. She's coming, bearing lots of gifts, hugs and kisses. All that I would have shared with my own... I'm giving to yours. :) So, when your wonderful angels become bad spoiled azzes... don't look my way. I'm not going to be responsible. lol...

The oncologist visit: Dr. S and friends

I am on OVERLOAD right now. I just left my oncologist's office and man... my brain is swimming from all the information. I decided to write this entry while I was still rather numb... so that I could get out the news without too many tears.

Okay... I start chemotherapy on September 4th, 1:00 pm. There will be a total of 3 chemotherapy drugs administered to me and 1 separate drug as well (at a later time). All of these drugs will be administered intravenously.

Part one, will be two drugs...


**INTERRUPTION**

I am so NOT in a good place right now. Just straight up ... I'm a little stank. I'm really gonna need for folks not to get caught up in their feelings when I say "no, I can't see you today, tomorrow, next week"... I love each of you reading this blog. I swear to God I do. I do, I do, I do!! BUT... I am really losing my mind and trying to stay calm and centered about all these changes right now.

I'm starting to feel like a monkey in a cage. Everybody wants to look at me, poke me, make me smile, etc. Is the monkey okay today? She looks upset. I can make her smile, laugh, fart... you know what?

I know.
And I can't handle it. I really can't.

It takes a lot of strength for me to keep it together and not lay in bed everyday balled up in a knot. One of the reasons I'm opting to keep working during all this is that I am deathly afraid of falling back into a depression. I want to keep as much normalcy and balance in my life as I can. That means, I'm gonna go to karaoke every week I feel strong enough to. I'm gonna visit my baby at the restaurant as much as I can -- cause his presence comforts me. But, I can't do much more than that.

Lunch, dinner, movies, calls, texts, and so on; no. I can't promise you that I will respond, let alone initiate a conversation. Maybe once this gets going and I'm not grieving the loss of one breast, or the opportunity to have a child... maybe then, I'll be back to the ol' Nic who was always down for whatever at a moment's notice. But she ain't here right now.

I'm scared and tired and worried, and anxious and mad and mad and mad and mad -- did I mention that I was f*cking ANGRY???

I'm not good company right now. My mouth is straight profanity. Even more so than usual. And I'm not able to curb it to please anyone. I break out in tears in the middle of a joke...
I'm just not me right now.

**END INTERRUPTION**


The first two drugs: cyclophosphamide and doxorubicin... will be given together. They will be administered every two weeks (which is 1 cycle) for 4 cycles. Then I will be given a third chemotherapy drug, I think its tamoxifen (or something like that) every 3 weeks (1 cycle) for 4 cycles. At the same time I start the last chemo drug, I will start a year long course of herceptin (I have HER2 receptors -- basically estrogen is fueling my tumors). This will be given intravenously as well every week for 1 year.

After the last chemo cycle with tamoxifen (or whatever "T" drug I'll be taking)... that's when I'll have surgery to remove my breast.

Because the cancer is in several places in my breast, there doesn't seem to be a way to preserve my breast and be assured that all the cancer will be removed. SO... I guess around the end of the year, I'll be having a mastectomy. (I am SOOOOO not feeling this part.)

Oh... and this part: all these damn drugs will likely send me into early menopause. Which means... all my damn waiting for the right guy to start a family was a waste of time. I probably won't be able to have any. Ain't that some sh*t? *sigh*

(looks like the numbness is wearing off... anger is coming on in... I'm gonna wrap this up now and get back to work)

So... looky here. Today.. I'm just in a funky azz mood. Period. (it doesn't help that my cycle started today too... wow)

Oh, I forgot to add that since I'm going to be getting so much stuff shot up in my body... they are putting some sort of "port" device in my collarbone area... so that they can get an easy direct line to a big vein.

*sigh*

...and on top of all this, they want me to participate in some clinical trial. It seems harmless enough and it should help some folks so... I'll probably sign up... but you know...

this whole thing is really starting to get on my fcking nerves.

Sorry y'all... I had planned to be upbeat, toss out a few jokes or something... but I ain't got it right now.

If I feel something funny coming on... I'll come back and fill it in.

Til next time...

I do love you. I hope that you still love me after I cuss you out a few more times over the next year or so...

~Nic

My new haircut... is FIERCE.

I know the last post was a bit of a tear-jerker. Which wasn't exactly my reason for posting. Just wanted to share...

So let me add... without a doubt.. my new haircut is fierce. And as soon as I get these wicked eyebrows waxed this evening...

You won't be able to tell me nothing. :)

...btw... did you know that not only can you buy wigs for your head when you lose your hair... they have FAKE EYEBROWS too.

I'mma hafta get me some of 'dem. :)
Y'all know I love my eyebrows.

So, we're caught up on the highlights

Now... I can focus on the day to day feelings and utter craziness.

My therapist told me that it would be perfectly normal if I felt like... "why me" in regards to getting cancer. And honestly... I don't feel that way. Not yet anyway. I just feel like its written on my forehead.

"don't get too close... she has CANCER..."

Its weird, everyone keeps asking me how I feel. I feel the same way I felt on July 2nd before I had confirmation that there was another "something" inside my body uninvited.

I feel fine. Now, people around me are saying that I'm not fine. But I feel okay.

I'm moody.
I'm cranky.
I'm sensitive.
I burst into tears at the dumbest things and the most inopportune moments. I worry that my boyfriend will grow tired of me and my drama. I am worried that my email groups will disappear. I am afraid that something will go wrong and I'll end up shriveled and small and unable to complete any of the things that I've finally gotten in my head and my heart that I want to do.

I feel angry. I might not be able to have kids. THAT's not fair.

I've finally said, yes, I think I could be a good mother and a good wife and I want that family... and now I'm faced with a treatment that could save my life but end my options of having another life.

I just don't know what to feel anymore. I'm currently waiting (it seems that I do a lot of that now) to hear from another doctor, an oncologist, to discuss my possible treatment options. I just want to know how soon I can start chemotherapy. The sooner it starts, the sooner its over. And I want all of this to be over... soon.

If you see me on the street and I don't seem to want to talk -- I probably don't.  Its not personal, I'm just overwhelmed right now. I want to write all the stories and poems and scripts I ever dreamed about. I want to go to all the countries I've fantasized about visiting.... I feel like my days are getting shorter. And I can't stop it.

I've read other cancer survivors blogs... and well, I'm not that upbeat all the time. I am cranky as hell right now. I don't feel that I'm any more or less worthy of being stopped by cancer... but I do feel like... once again, the timing just sucks.

And then there was Freddie...

http://amzn.to/1TjTNb2

[Update 8/2015: In hindsight, it was definitely a journey to getting diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008. Although I met with a lot of doctors, many of whom I have long since forgotten, I remember that everyone was very kind and extremely helpful during this early stage of the journey. I appreciate that so much. Not every patient has the good fortune of dealing with compassionate doctors and staff along the way. This insight into the specifics of learning that the lump I felt was cancerous will hopefully help another sista (or brother) realize that they are not alone on this journey.]

Second post of the blog... and it is a doozy

Okay... so after my boyfriend felt the lump too, I had to find a doctor and quick. Of course, with my new health insurance (that came with my new job) I needed to find a new doctor. And I couldn't find anyone who was accepting new patients.

Why aren't any doctors accepting new patients?!

I checked with my social group to see if any of those ladies had a recommendation -- nada. I checked with a few more people. Even went as far as to call my cousin in Georgia to get his input on a particular doctor here in DC. But... go figure... she too wasn't accepting new patients.

*sigh*

Forever grateful for Dr. K

So, I called on one of my faithful best girlfriends and started wailing... she recommended her doctor highly. And naturally, I believed her because over the years I had heard her mention how much she liked Dr. K. I made my appointment for a physical for 2 weeks later. I felt good. I was being proactive.

Then... I got into the shower one day and my boobie looked BIGGER. Freaked me out. I went to work frantic, and I called Dr. K and asked if I could come in that day. Two hours later... another man told me that ... yes, there is a lump and I can feel it too.

Dr. K is a wonderful doctor. Very kind, very straight-forward and he listens. I wasn't looking for a male doctor but I was happy I found him. He felt I needed a diagnostic mammogram and sonogram right away. Right away turned out to be about 10 days later. So, I had to stumble through the 4th of July weekend as though nothing was on my mind -- even though I was a foggy mess.

I asked my boyfriend to take me to the radiologist (which I didn't even have to ask, he was planning to go all along). And I thank God that he was there. We were both pretty frantic. While Dr. K wasn't scary in his comments, he definitely made it clear that something was wrong and we needed to get everything checked out immediately.

Wait... a mammogram? I'm not 40 yet!

At the first radiology center... I received my first mammogram and my first sonogram. Since I don't have children, I'd never been a witness to looking inside my own body through a machine and seeing something there. It is a very odd feeling. The mammograms were uncomfortable.

Can anyone build a machine that doesn't have to mash your breasts against inflexible plates while you stand with your arms contorted behind you as you don't breathe? (it messes up the film -- I breathed twice, now I know its a no-no)

Mammograms are awful. There is nothing nice that I can say other than that. I have fairly large breasts so the fact that I was so very uncomfortable made me uneasy as I thought of my smaller chested friends. We've got to come up with something better. QUICKLY! Smashed body parts are unacceptable.

Freddie shows up for the camera

I was amazed watching the sonogram. It was amazing looking at the inside of my boobie. The images reminded me of the ocean... and then suddenly there was this black "thing" floating in my sea. The lump didn't have a name until I saw him on camera. Suddenly, the tune from "SuperFly" started playing in my head....

"Freddie's dead...
That's what I said.... "

So right at that moment, I named the primary tumor Freddy. Honestly, 'cause I wanted Freddy to die. One of us had to go... and it wasn't going to be me.

I left the office stunned. I could barely speak. I barely heard the radiologist's comments about the mammogram results and the sonogram. But I do recall that she said something about cancer. She was concerned with the size, she was concerned with some microcalcifications... but all the rest is a blur. My boyfriend claimed that he understood what she said. But I really didn't.

Cancer? Me?!

We left... I called my mom when we got outside and then we went to lunch. At the time, I felt fine. I wasn't upset, just blank. By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, we both were sobbing. Well, I was sobbing, he was just misty.  (We know that men don't cry)

We had just started dating. Just started thinking about a future... maybe kids, a house in the city -- not the suburbs... and now we had to step back and think about cancer, surgery, maybe more. It seemed wild and outrageous. But that's where we were.

I called Dr. K the next day -- he was a little frantic with me. He had spoken to the radiologist and felt I needed to see a surgeon right away to discuss options and lumpectomies. He gave me the name and number of a surgeon he highly recommended and I tried to make that appointment. As God worked it out, that surgeon was on vacation so I was assigned to another surgeon in the office, Dr. Lee.

Dr. Lee... finally someone who may understand how I felt

I felt good. A woman doctor was what I wanted. Unfortunately... I couldn't get in to see Dr. Lee for another 12 days. When we finally met -- I was a basket case. I took my mother this time. Dr. Lee was supposed to give me a biopsy (small needle) in the office that day -- which is why I brought reinforcements. However, after she examined me -- she determined that I needed more radiology and a different type of biopsy. A core needle biopsy (big needle).

Dr. Lee really knows what I'm going through. She is about my age and a breast cancer survivor as well. But of course, she was going on vacation right after my appointment. (bummer) Her office got me an immediate appointment (like 7:30 am the next day) at a different radiology center. There I got my first MRI and another mammogram.

The MRI was painless. I just laid down on a table, put my boobies in some holes/cups thru the table and was pushed into this big machine. *shrug* I listened to the radio while I was in there but that was it. I could feel something warm on my skin -- and I vaguely recall being injected with something that tasted like metallic salt water in my nose.

How do you function with news like this rattling around your brain? 

I had not slept at all the night after my visit with Dr. Lee which was the night before the MRI. I had to go home afterward, just to sleep. The not knowing and the anticipation for each appointment was really killing me. Things were moving rapidly and slowly at the same time. If it wasn't DC in the summer, it probably really would have gone too fast for me to understand and comprehend. As it was... the wait between appointments (about a week) gave me just enough time to digest what was happening and what people were telling me about my body.

The core biopsy was rather upsetting. First, they wouldn't allow my boyfriend to come back into the room with me. I really needed him there. Second, the room was hot and uncomfortable. Third, this time, watching the sonogram wasn't fun at all. I couldn't feel it but watching a really long needle going into and out of your breast is unsettling to say the least.

Did I mention Ted? 

I did learn/see that Freddie had a small buddy near by. I named him Ted. Since he was like a mini-version of Freddie. This time... it was "Fred and Ted's excellent adventure" even though I know that wasn't the name of the movie... that's what played in my head when I saw the little lump beside the bigger one.

When the procedure was done, Dr. P (he gave me the biopsy) explained to me what he saw on the MRI and how he and some of his colleagues were very concerned (I have heard that word more times than I can count now... it has become a scary word for me) about my prognosis for cancer.

Sick of hearing "very concerned"... just tell me what is going on.

At this point, I'm at my 5th appointment in a two and a half/three week period, seeing my 4th doctor and I am TOTALLY freaked out. My blood pressure had to be through the roof because all I kept hearing was "cancer" and "very concerned". My family was already stressed out -- like I said, my dad just had an aneurysm Memorial Day weekend. And now... every few days another doctor is saying... "we're very concerned" with what is showing up on the film.

Anyway... back to Dr. Lee (by phone)... because now I'm frantic to know what the heck is going on. Of course, I can't reach her because she's on vacation and she never picks up her phone. Ugh. Dr. P told me that he would call me as soon as the results of the pathology report came back from Georgetown Hospital -- probably in 3 days.

Two days later... news I didn't want.

He called me in two. Early in the morning. Like 9:00 am.

Scary.

I am sitting at work, choked up with tears... listening to this kind man say that the pathology reports show that my Freddie is cancerous. He tells me to get in touch with Dr. Lee immediately and that he would be trying to reach her as well... I finally get her on Friday. I talked to Dr. P on Wednesday. I took Friday off from work as a vacation day because I was simply fried.

Just NUMB

I could not do little things like remember to tie my shoes. Or remember to bring suitable work shoes with me to the office. I was walking through water... I could sort of hear sounds but I couldn't make out what people were saying to me.

I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer.

That's all I hear and see. I start looking at the whole world with the eyes of a dying woman. I try to take in everything -- even though so much doesn't make sense. People start flooding my memory that I haven't talked to in years. I start feeling frantic... I need a will, nah I don't. How can I prepare my parents for a life without me? How can I convince everyone that I'm okay even when I'm not?

I was a total mess for quite a few days. I told people around me, told my email groups, my family (finally) and my friends... and I tried to accept all the good wishes and thoughts that folks sent my way. I tried. But after I told it -- I wanted to hide and just rest in my boyfriend's arms in silence. That's all that I thought would make me feel better. Someone who loved me, holding me tightly, reminding me that right now, I'm still here. No words were necessary to convey that feeling... but words were what I received.

Sigh.

Well... now the journey starts

The hardest part so far has been listening to people tell me the stories about people in their lives who have either had breast cancer, or some other sort of cancer -- and now they are fine!

Those well-intentioned stories offered me no comfort at all. Which I know is the opposite effect that the story-tellers wanted. But it was hard to be encouraged when I know, all it takes is one person to be the exception to a rule... and I could easily be that exception.

Remember... "very concerned" has come out of the mouth of every doctor that I spoke to.

What does it mean? Am I dying or not?

.... Dr. Lee conferred with a few more doctors after she returned from her vacation and sent me to another radiology appointment to have a biopsy of my lymph nodes. From her review... there were more tumors that were of deep concern. One was on my chest wall (or very close to it) and of course, since my boobies are so large, it could not be biopsied with a needle. It would have to be surgically biopsied. And that presented a problem because the first tumor is close to my skin and positioned close to my nipple. All of that meant...

If she were to remove those tumors surgically... there might not be much breast left to save.

No boobie? Or no nipple? What is that???

I was devastated. As I said before... my boobies aren't the ones I probably would have picked off a shelf but I had grown comfortable with having them and I wasn't really ready to get rid of them. It wasn't going to work (in my mind) that I would have my breast removed and then replaced with a fake.

????

Hey sistagirl, Dr. R! 

Washington Radiology was booked so Dr. Lee arranged for me to meet with Dr. R of GW Hospital. She was an awesome sistagirl doctor. :) That made me very happy. I watched another tech sonogram my body... and this time I was better prepared for the mass that showed up in my ocean. The third lump is named Jim. As in "dammit Jim... I am only a doctor" (from Star Trek).

As soon as I saw that dark mass, I said to myself... "dammit Jim"... and that was the name.

The biopsy this time was more painful... or rather... it seemed more invasive. I was laying in an uncomfortable position, the machine was larger and louder that the first one... This was no longer an entertaining adventure. Dr. R was wonderful -- just like all the other doctors had been... though I could not imagine being more worried or upset... I was. My visit on Thursday with Dr. R wouldn't result in answers about cancer until Tuesday. So I did my best to smile and not worry until Tuesday morning.

I spoke to Dr. Lee on Tuesday instead of going back to GW to pick up my results as they had suggested. We chatted for awhile, and she told me that yes, indeed the tumor in my lymph node was cancerous too. This meant that the cancer had migrated... and it could be likely that the cancer is spreading or has spread to other organs. I asked her the stage and she said either 2B or 3A. She switched to 2B (in my memory) after it seemed that I was stuck at 3A. Either way... it might be bad now.

.... more to come.

First post about my boobies

January 2019:  It has now been over 10 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. So much has changed in my life and yet, I'm not far from the emotions of this period of my life. The fear of breast cancer is real, it's enormous, and it doesn't exactly go away. I am still NED (no evidence of disease) - also known as remission - but any day that could be different. If you are reading this now and you are a survivor or know someone recently diagnosed, I implore you to start reading this blog from the beginning. I ask that you take this emotional trip with me because it will help you to understand that you are not alone, your friend isn't alone. For some reason, even though breast cancer is one of the world's best-known cancers and millions of people have been diagnosed with this disease... it still can be overwhelmingly a lonely space. You are not alone. Not as the survivor or the caregiver. This blog was my voice for that time, letting the world know that I was here and that I had a story to tell.

Nicole.

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Let me start by saying... this blog is not intended to be pornographic or sexually stimulating in any way. It is a log of my emotional and physical changes and challenges of being diagnosed with breast cancer at 39.

I was diagnosed with cancer on July 30th, 2008.