So I talked with the general surgeon yesterday

It was a quick visit -- so this will be a quick post. Dr. Abell was very nice and quite informative.

The basics are that:
- he also agrees with the plastic surgeon that its more likely than not that I will need radiology after the mastectomy;
- this surgery will only take 2 hours and only require an overnight stay at the hospital;
- I will definitely lose my entire left breast and a small portion of my underarm area;
- recovery is expected to be pretty easy and pretty fast;
and finally;
- I will not likely have my reconstruction for at least 6 months, more likely a year from now.

He told me yesterday that he was going to do all that he could to have my surgery scheduled for sometime in the next two weeks. He was true to his word because I just got off the phone with his office and the surgery has been scheduled. Although I've been very open during this whole process, I'm not going to put the actual date of teh surgery here (at least not right now) because I really need some privacy around this situation.

My emotions have been all over the place lately and I don't want to bombard anyone else with my stuff at the moment. I am very grateful for everyone's response to my post "how does it feel to be you". I learned a lot and had a lot confirmed for me. Basically that this is difficult for everyone involved -- no matter how slight the involvement is perceived to be. There's just nothing easy about cancer.

I'm gonna try to get back to my nap. The surgeon's office woke me up with their call... so I need to get some more sleep and process this new information.

what's it like to be you?

Yesterday in chemo, I had a chance to talk to my oncologist for a few moments. We weren't scheduled to meet, but he was at the cancer center during my chemo time... so we chatted. He had communicated with the plastic surgeon and had news for me.

It seems that the plastic surgeon is very concerned that I will need to have radiation after my mastectomy. If that is true, then I am not a candidate for immediate reconstruction after my mastectomy. The hitch is... they won't know if I'm a candidate for radiology until they perform the mastectomy and they perform the pathology exams on my tumors.

So... I won't know when I'm wheeled into surgery if I'm going to come out with one breast or two. I can have the reconstruction immediately only if I don't need radiation; only if they can remove all of the cancer with surgery alone. I meet with the general surgeon on Tuesday; hopefully he can better explain to me what will happen when I go into surgery.

I did not want to ever wake up and have to look at myself with one breast. I never wanted to see my body deformed that way. This process has been so hard to handle and the one thing that I could hold on to has been taken from me. Hearing months ago that I could go into the mastectomy surgery and come out with a replacement breast -- made me feel that this would be okay. But once again, my stable ground has been shaken and I just don't know. Of course, I came home from the hospital and crawled into bed; curled into the fetal position and cried myself to sleep.

So, that brings me to my question this morning... what is it like to be you? I know how crazy and emotional and sad I am... but what does it feel like to be a friend, or a relative... or even a passing stranger with a friend who is going through something this devastating?

I read an interesting message last night on a cancer newsletter where someone was praising the cancer caregivers (that would be you) for having the strength to be there beside their loved one through all the ups and downs of cancer treatment. The person actually wrote that they would prefer to be the patient to being the caregiver because at least the patient is (in some way) able to "do" something about the situation whereas the caregiver is basically helpless and resigned to sitting on the sidelines.

Is that how you feel? I have to ask because my mind cannot focus right now on the possibility of waking up in a couple of weeks with just one breast.

Was I so looking forward to the reconstruction because I still cannot fully accept and believe that I have cancer? I think so. I wake up often and think that I'm living someone else's life; or I'm in a dream. I look at myself in the mirror and I still am not comfortable with the bald head that looks back at me. And so on. I just want to know if you feel as unsettled and weird as I do.

Leave comments and tell me what it feels like to be you -- in this part of my journey.

~Nic

Merry Christmas!! Blessings are everywhere you look...

Its Christmas! Can you believe it?

This year has flown by... the last 6 months have been a blur for me. Doctor visits, hospital trips, needles, needles, did I mention needles?? lol... and lots of medication.

But its Christmas. :) How beautiful is that?

When I was told back in July that I had cancer, I did not know whether I would make it to Christmas. Everyone around me had far more faith than I did -- all I knew is that the boogeyman had finally found his way to my door. And I wasn't sure that I would be able to beat him.

Honestly speaking, I think his kryptonite must be tears and prayers... because that's all I've had in my arsenal for months. But whatever it has taken to beat him off, its working... my tumors are shrinking, I'm preparing for surgery and by the time its warm again on a regular basis, I should be back to full speed. That is awesome. I am humbled and happy.

I want to say thank you to everyone who has said a prayer, thought a kind thought for me, done a favor, sent a gift or a card, or just listened to me whine and cry through all of this. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. Its not quite over, there will be more tears shed and more prayers needed... but the halfway mark is looking quite good to me right now.

Its Christmas and because of the economy it seems like a more dismal Christmas than usual. Well, it seems that other people are more dismal this Christmas. I am pretty upbeat (minus the past 3 days) and happy. Its Christmas! (Imagine me doing one of the dances that the Peanuts gang does during their Christmas special... head down, feet jamming!)

Its Christmas. I have friends and family who love me, who think about me and who share this load with me (as much as they can). I can't buy all the gifts and trinkets I want, but... I know that if something happens in the middle of the night and I call out, somebody will hear me. That is so priceless for me right now.

Usually at Christmas I'm pretty down. I tend to get caught up in a mental game of "I remember"... and it usually centers on all the friends and relatives who have passed away and how much I miss them. This year, I didn't get down. I got excited. I got happy. The same friends and relatives are gone but now I feel them with me. I can recollect good memories and smile, instead of feeling sad.

I've had some AMAZING friends (including those related to me) over the years. Beautiful, wonderful people... who for reasons I don't know... were not destined to see Christmas 2008. But what I realized recently is that each of them left so much with me, just by being themselves fully and freely... that I think I'm a better person for having known them and shared time with them.

One good friend who comes to mind is Kyatta Sullivan. Keke passed away about 15 years ago... and I can see her smile, and hear her voice like we talked yesterday. I realized last weekend, that Alandria reminds me of Keke. Same bubbly spirit, same creative passion, similar looks too. I missed Keke something SERIOUS when she passed. We were so young, we had so many dreams and plans... we were just kids really, hitting our stride (lol) in our 20's. And then poof... she was gone. And all I had for years and years were questions. Her death changed me in ways that I could not have imagined at all. But now I feel like her spirit for life, her energy for sharing her gifts to the world are part of MY future. I don't know why it took so long for me to get that... but I have it now. I can't sing like Ke could but I can do other things and the main thing I can do is be a good friend, a good relative to everyone in my life.

I know that many of us are sad, scared, depressed this year. But please, I beg of you... to lift your eyes up just a bit. We live in a beautiful world. We are surrounded by blessings everyday. Big and small. If you're able to read this blog, you're more blessed than most people in the world. I know it gets hard out here... but there is nothing that any of us is going through that we can't handle. God has given us so much, so much to be thankful for. So much laughter and joy. So many reasons to be thankful. Just so so much.

I am blessed. I do have cancer but that's only for a short time longer. No matter how scared I get, how many tears I shed... I am very blessed. And you are too.

Merry Christmas!!


~Nic

The consultation about my breast reconstruction surgery...

I am in tears. Big, fat, hot tears. I'm not used to this much reality in my life.

I won't even go into detail about the ghetto broad at the reception desk who conveniently "forgot" to check me in for my appointment... even though I got there almost 2 hours early (had my times mixed up). Although she tried to ruin my day... her part in the tragedy is really minimal.

First, let me say... the plastic surgeon is really nice and she seems to be really on top of her game. I see why she's rated so highly and is so very busy. With that said...

she scared me to pieces.

The procedure that she and I agree would probably be best is the TRAM flap. I won't explain it here, but its a pretty intense procedure that uses the fat from my belly and some of my abdominal muscles to create a new breast. Its one thing to know that and another to hear that the procedure takes 12 hours to complete.

12 hours. Half a day.

To me, that's a very long time to be under anesthesia and lying with my body open and people digging and cutting on me. I didn't cry at the office, but I am certainly crying now. Afterwards, I will be in intensive care to recuperate from the operation. ICU... that's where my dad was last summer after his aneurysm. I don't want to be there.

There's more to add... but I'll have to do it later. I'm so freaked out and scared right now, all I can do is cry.

This will be quick...

Its the middle of the night... or very early in the morning... depends on your perspective. I am wide awake... and I wish I weren't.

Its a few days after chemo... and I am in pain. Not quite misery, but quite uncomfortable. I am aching in my bones, my joints ache really badly. My fingertips and toes are still numb/tingling and I just want to rest. But it doesn't seem to be for me tonight.

I have an appointment in the morning to see the plastic surgeon. Things are going to move pretty rapidly from this point, I'm guessing. Dr. Siegel, my oncologist, wants/needs for me to be in surgery for my mastectomy by the first week of January. Not sure how that's going to happen but I'm sure it will work out somehow.

Unfortunately, time is not on my side... or rather... time has gotten away from me. It seems that the general surgeon that I've been consulting with and talking to since this entire journey began, is not available to do my surgery now. She is booked until the end of January. That won't work for me. So, Dr. Siegel's office has made arrangements for me to consult with Dr. Abell, who happens to be Dr. Lee's boss. (interesting huh?)

The plastic surgeon I am meeting with later today, Dr. Lenert... also happens to work under Dr. Abell as well. So, it is my strong hope that all of these doctors can coordinate with Dr. Siegel to get me into the operating room in a timely manner. I truly do not want to go through another dose of chemotherapy. I don't fully understand the details, but it seems important/critical that I am in surgery not longer than 2 weeks after my final chemotherapy.

One good thing... Dr. Siegel did a breast exam on Thursday and it seems that my primary tumor (Fred, the big one...) has shrunken considerably. When this ordeal started, Fred was the size of a golf ball (maybe a little smaller). Now, it might be about the size of a pea (maybe a little smaller). Dr. Siegel was extremely pleased with the shrinkage. I was too. At this point though, I'm so ready to be done with this that I am happy with every little bit of progress... no matter how tiny the step.

I mentioned to Dr. Siegel that I was experiencing some insomnia and he prescribed ambien. (rolling eyes) So many folks gave me dire warnings about using ambien... "it will knock you right out"... "make sure you're laying down when you take it"... blah blah blah.

You know that those doggone pills don't hardly work on me, right? They take hours to kick in, and then only allow me to sleep for a couple of hours. And I do mean... two.

Since it is so late, I won't take any tonight... I'll just suffer through tomorrow somewhat sleepy. I'll rest when I get home.

...so, that's all for now folks. I'll update you on the next steps once I get home from my doctor's appointment.

~Nic

Well... another night before chemo

Tonight is the night before my last taxol infusion. I'm excited about the last chemo (well sort of, I'll still be getting regular herceptin treatments) and I'm also freaked out. The last chemo means that in a couple of weeks, God willing, I'll be going into surgery to have my cancer removed. I keep trying to tell myself that losing my breast is secondary to getting rid of the cancer... but its not working. I keep thinking (and overthinking) about losing my breast and having a "fake" one put in its place.

I don't know how other folks handle this, or how any of you would handle this if you were me... but I feel like I'm a total and complete mess. I have cried so much this week -- I've been unable to take or return phone calls. Honestly, between you and me... this is hard. I thought that I would be feeling so much better about this by now. We're close to halfway through this thing. I have gotten comfortable with the language of cancer; how to broach the topic with strangers and old friends (not that I'm handling that all that well either); how to cope with the various and many physical changes/side effects that I go through every week... But I have not gotten comfortable with the notion of losing my breast. I'm just as angry about it now as I was back in August when I was told it was best that I have the mastectomy.

I pushed for a lumpectomy but its a no-go. I tried to be cool with that. I realize that my cancer is positioned in a way that saving my breast is not possible. I have tried to be cool with that. But now... its close to 2/3 weeks away and I'm realizing that I'm still not cool with losing a part of me.

Women undergo plastic surgery every day, willingly and at great cost to improve their looks. Women undergo plastic surgery every day, willingly and at great cost to correct a medical problem. Why can't I program my mind and my emotions... to willingly accept that this is necessary for my life? I feel like I'm being punished and I can't figure out what I've done wrong.

Keep me in your prayers... please. Its been a hard, hard week.

~Nic

I went to brunch on Saturday... and pictures were taken

Trying to look cute. Feeling like Uncle Fester.

I have been wanting to take some pictures during this process. Well, what I wanted was to go to a photographer and have some portraits taken.

While I feel hideous right now, I did want some pictures to remind me of this time in my life. But my vain side wanted them to be done in the best possible way -- full makeup, lots of energy... that sort of thing. Rather modelesque, if you will.

I got half of my wish this weekend.

At brunch, a couple of the ladies had their cameras and they snapped a few pictures of the group -- which included me. With my bald head and my bald face (no makeup).

My brunch pals are so gorgeous!

Now, I see my face every day -- just like you see yours every day. And, for the most part, I know what I look like. However, because I don't interact with many people on a regular/daily basis, I did not know what I looked like in relation to other people. Typically, the only people I see in a week are my parents, other patients at the cancer center (and most of them look bad)... and the medical staff at the cancer center.

I haven't seen myself in relation to other beautiful black women in months. And when I saw the pictures... I was mortified.

Disclaimer: I am not fishing for compliments. I promise you. I am being honest about what I saw when I looked at myself compared to healthy, normal, beautiful and made up sistas.

I looked sad and pitiful. I am pale. So very pale. My eyes look sad and heavy. My eyebrows are definitely thin (compared to their normal jet black thickness). My poor little head... lol. It's so small... I mean, I suppose that I look okay to be in the midst of a battle like this. But I don't look so great to me.

Remember... it was my goal to make cancer look good. lol... I'm failing at my job.

I posted the pictures to my facebook account and many people commented that they liked the pictures, liked my smile...etc. However, I do not see what they see. It's possible that my mind has become warped and I have a distorted image of myself. It is very possible and highly likely. But I am vain -- have been for a long time. And I don't like not looking and feeling cute. Silly I suppose... but as a woman, being pretty is important to me.

I've been squeamish about wearing makeup. Very scared about putting anything on my skin right now. But I may have to change that perspective because I can't continue to go out in public looking like Uncle Fester. It's not fair to the public. They don't deserve that.

Earlier this evening, I got really sad looking at that picture of myself and reading the kind comments that people left me on facebook. I can't explain it to you, but I cried for awhile... it made me really sad that I could not see myself as pretty anymore.

I will have to figure out a way to get past seeing myself as a monster. Not sure how at the moment... but I'll figure something out. I don't think that this is just a makeup issue.

Last week (maybe the week before)... I was at chemotherapy and I decided to walk down the block to grab something to eat when it was over. While waiting for my order at the Wendy's counter... a random guy (black, older) made a comment that he liked my haircut. Had I not been so tired, I would have laughed. Instead, I just looked at him like he was crazy and said thanks.

Haircut? Puh-lease!! I am bald. I'm not Grace Jones trying to make a statement or be bold. I'm going through some stuff right now and this look is what I'm stuck with. I hate it. I have gotten to a place of being comfortable about my bald head that I don't always wear my "indoor" hat when I go out in public. I do wear a winter hat because it's cold outside but that's it. Basically, the hot flashes required that I get over covering my head because I was afraid for people to look at it. Hot flashes are also the reason why I don't wear wigs. I have two... they will never be worn -- well, maybe for Halloween next year. But they won't be worn while I'm going through this. I can't take the heat.

I have heard a few people say that (or something similar) they like bald on me, or it's good that I wore my hair so short because it makes my baldness less shocking. I don't know how to deal with that. I do understand what they are saying, but it feels totally different to me. Even though, I wore my hair very, very short -- it is still shocking to me that I have NO HAIR at all on my head. It still makes me wonder (when I look in the mirror) where my femininity has gone.

I think that my lesson for the week is... I need to start wearing makeup again when I go out in public. Even if it doesn't make any difference to people who know me, or random strangers on the street -- maybe it will make me feel better about myself.

I really hope it will help me not see a monster when I look in the mirror.

~Nic

Twas the night before chemo...

Well, its the night before chemo... again... and I'm a little anxious... again. But today was a pretty good day so I'm in a good mood. I fell asleep earlier today... so I'm awake pretty late. That's not unusual lately. I haven't been sleeping too well this past week. Averaging about 3 or maybe 4 hours of sleep each day (if I'm not taking tylenol pm) and that's usually in little 30 min - 1 hour naps.

I mentioned the insomnia to the doctor last week at my chemo session and its a side effect of the chemo. Its not one of the side effects that many people get -- something like 14% of patients suffer from insomnia. So I guess that makes me special. I hope that same ratio doesn't stick to me when it comes to me surviving this treatment. Currently, in my age bracket, 83% of breast cancer patients survive their treatment. That means that 17% don't. I don't want to be special that way.

I've been pretty moody and a little erratic this week. I'm blaming the lack of sleep for it. Though I know that's not the only reason. Probably not even the primary reason. I have been thinking about some pretty emotional stuff from my past... on purpose.

A few years ago, I started writing a novel. I had gotten pretty far along and then I was stuck. And I mean, stuck tight. I could not move that stupid story forward no matter what I tried to do. Finally, I took some advice from a writing book and put my book away. The advice was to put away whatever you're working on for awhile... just lock it up and forget about it... and then pick it up weeks, months... years later when you no longer can remember much about it and usually the distance that has grown between you and the work will allow you to see the work differently, more clearly and you will be able to fix and/or finish the story.

So... I put away my story... and actually I started a separate story about 2 years ago I think. I never liked that second story. I now want to return to the first story and finish it... but its gone. It got lost in my moving shuffle from my last apartment. I only have one short chapter -- and its not even a real chapter, its maybe half a chapter -- to work with. My heart is heavy that the story is gone. I've looked everywhere online that I can think I may have stashed some or all of it... but I can't find it at all.

Digging into my emotions from my past is scary. There's a lot of stuff that I have pushed away and forgotten because it was painful and I needed to move beyond it. Now, I need to tap into it in a controlled way so that I can put these words to paper. I think that as emotional as I've been these past few months... its about to get worse. Hopefully you won't notice that. I will try to remain balanced as I go through these next few months of treatment and surgery.

I can tell you this... trying to type with this neuropathy in my fingers is interesting. The tingling/numbness is slowing down my typing. Whereas before the neuropathy my fingers only looked like they had been bruised (the chemo has discolored my nail beds -- a deep purple)... now they feel like they have been slammed in a door too. My toes too...

I have no idea what sort of side effects I can look forward to after this session. I had thought (before I started) that the herceptin treatments would be a cakewalk... just some hormone treatment and I'm good. But its been causing more side effects than the other medication that is killing the cancer and shrinking the tumors.

Either way... I'm hoping that tomorrow goes quickly and has no reactions. But now that I am thinking about it, I think I will throw my benadryl in my bag just in case.

I hope that you're doing well this holiday season. I know that everything is scary right now... so much is unknown and changing... jobs, housing, banks... you just don't know if you're standing on firm ground or sinking sand. But my hope and prayer for all of us is that whatever we're facing... we stand firm in knowing that God has prepared us for the going through. And He is there for us to reach out to Him and hold on as we move forward. That's what gets me through these days, even when I'm crying and I'm scared -- which is actually every single day -- I keep reminding myself that God has me. And he's prepared me for this -- even if I can't see it. No matter what happens, I've been prepared for this.

Lately my tears are in preparation for my surgery. I keep wondering how I will view myself with my reconstructed breast. But I know -- even if my heart hasn't caught up yet -- I know logically that I am not my breasts. My beauty as a person and as a woman is not attached to my breasts. But I am mourning the loss -- can't lie about it. And I am definitely worried about how I will feel about myself after I get up from the operating table.

I don't meet with the plastic surgeon for another week or so. My anxiety is building slowly... which is why I'm allowing myself to feel the fear and to cry the tears so that I don't have a melt down when I go to see the plastic surgeon. I want to slowly release the emotional steam... so that it doesn't build up to epic proportions and cause some real damage.

... its really late so I'm going to lay down for a few hours before I go to the hospital. Please continue to pray for me -- I really can feel the power it is giving me. Without your prayers, I just don't know where I would be.

~Nic

I fell out in the kitchen the other night... scary

*Update April 2015: When this incident happened, I was starting my 4th month of chemotherapy and just getting started on my year of hormone infusions (Herceptin) which is administered intravenously just like chemo. I was bald, tired, weak... I had lost about 30 pounds. Coping with the side effects of chemo was tough and really surprising. But one thing was certain, I was 5 months post diagnosis and I still did not really understand or accept that I had a very serious illness. I just wanted my life back. I had no idea that my life would be forever different.*

I fell out in the kitchen the other night...it wasn't pretty

So, it's Sunday night and I'm trying to get a little something to snack on. I heat up an enchilada and just as I'm getting the sour cream to put on top.... I start feeling really, really dizzy.

I never lost consciousness and I was aware that I was falling... but I couldn't stop myself from hitting the floor. Once again, my voice failed me... and I couldn't (or wouldn't) shout out to let my mom know that I was falling out. She was watching tv in the family room -- just across the way. And it wasn't until I was laid out on the floor for a few moments and I realized that I couldn't get myself up, that I spoke to her and asked her to get my dad from upstairs.

Yes, I know that's crazy but that's how it happened

You know... it is amazing to me, that even in the midst of something pretty major happening to my body, I still have these worrisome thoughts of not upsetting folks or disturbing them. I think I need to call my therapist so we can discuss it. I can't put myself first, even in this illness.

At any rate, my mom started screaming at my dad to come and help me and while I was woozy down on the floor... I was trying to stay connected to the scene. After he helped me up and got me a warm washcloth for my face... I refused to go to the hospital.

It seemed illogical to me to go to the hospital simply because I was woozy. I was still breathing, nothing was bleeding... so I figured I was okay. Maybe just tired, or hungry or something. When I called the boyfriend to let him know... he wanted me to go to the hospital too. But I just didn't want to spend hours and hours in the emergency room when they probably wouldn't know what was wrong with me (like before) and I would just be sitting there taking up space. I just wasn't trying to end my holiday weekend that way.

Again... in hindsight, this seems so reckless. But I had so much guilt about being sick and needy. I tried my best to cope with everything that I could without including other people unless I simply could not stand the pain any longer. If I could tolerate it in any way, I did.

I decided to call the oncologist's office on Monday when they opened, to let them know what happened and to see if this was something that was expected or if it was unusual. I finally talked to the nurse today, after she talked to my oncologist.

And... once again, my logic is totally wrong. I should have gone to the hospital on Sunday night, and if it ever happens again, that's what I will do. Its all so foreign. I don't know how to handle being sick.

The problem is that I haven't come to grips with having breast cancer. 

I was just sitting here thinking about how I feel like a visitor in my own body. I know that I have cancer. I know that I'm in chemotherapy. But I feel... like Nic. Nic who is totally healthy and doesn't have to worry about whether or not something is major enough to warrant a trip to the hospital to be checked out all the time. I know that people don't pass out all the time, but it happens enough that most folks don't have to go to the hospital for it. You get up, you get a warm or cold compress for your head or neck... and then you take it easy for awhile. That's it. It doesn't require a team of ER doctors to check you out.

But now I know... that for me... it does.

Last night I stumbled on a video on Google video ... about transitioning from being a cancer patient to a cancer survivor. It was a good video and I really had not thought about what it will be like when all this treatment is over and I'm back in the real world again. You would think that life would resume as usual... but what's usual isn't usual anymore. Normal healthy people can get a small fever and keep doing their normal activities. I can't do that. However, that just doesn't compute in my head.

I keep trying to understand how I'm different now. And how to reconcile that I am different and none of the standard rules apply to me the way that they used to.

I'm sure that Dr. S will take a few moments to chat with me on Thursday when I go for chemo. And I don't know what to tell him. I fell out in the kitchen. I never lost consciousness... and it never occurred to me that this was something drastic that I needed to go to the hospital for.

It never occurred to me.

I think I keep trying to make chemotherapy this very small part of my life. And it keeps letting me know that it is a huge part of who I am right now. I keep trying to retain a piece of me, that's still "me". And it feels like "me" is shrinking more and more every day.

Today is one of those days... where I'm just left to wonder, who am I now? How much of me has been changed because of breast cancer?

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