My Sweet Cookie...

Four years ago today, one of my greatest dreams came true. I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and our family of four was complete. Today, we celebrated Cookie's birthday in the company of her friends and our family with a rock 'n roll/Hannah Montana/High School Musical party. My husband and I had so much fun decorating the pink guitar cake and preparing for the party. Seeing the smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes all day long was truly a gift. From the moment I woke up this morning, until now as I get ready for bed, my heart is filled with peace and joy. And it's days like today that give me all the energy I need to face the week --and months -- ahead. The best days are those when all you feel is happiness, and you don't think about --- well you know -- for a single moment.

Happy birthday to my Cookie! You are the things dreams are made of...

Today was more than a great day...it was amazing.

I Gotta Feeling...

Every day, Monday thru Friday, I hop in the car at the same time, turn on Track 5 on the new Black Eyed Peas CD, and pump myself up for another trip to the hospital for my daily dose of radiation. I Gotta Feeling. It's a fun song that puts me in a good mood, and it puts a smile on my face.

Saying "the hospital" over and over again sounds draining, so I have dubbed it "Radiation World" (RW for short). Sort of like the sister of "Cancer World" or CW, the pet name I have for my oncologist's office. I work in IT, so having lots of acronyms is how I roll. So far I have XRT, RW and CW. I'm sure there will be more by the time it's all said and done.

Today I finished my 9th dose of radiation (there will be 33-37 total). Most days, I just hop off the elevator, they call me back right away, and I'm in and out in fifteen minutes. The last two days they have been delayed and I have had to sit in the waiting room for twenty minutes. To me, sitting in the waiting room of RW is sometimes worse than the actual treatment. Being surrounded by cancer material, cancer pictures, and signs about "life with cancer" is more than I can take for too long. And, to be honest, it's occasionally difficult to be surrounded by sometimes very sick cancer patients. I don't look sick, I don't feel sick, I don't act sick, yet we all have the "same" disease. I give them a lot of credit because they are much braver than I was -- I never went out in public with an exposed fuzzy bald head. When I see that, it just reminds me of what I will have to face in a few short months when I go through chemo again. I really can't imagine that just yet, so I just keep my head buried in magazines such as "Woman's Day" and "Men's Health" and hope the time flies by so that I can get XRT and get outta there. It's my happy little world of denial, and of living for the moment and not fearing the future.

I meet weekly with my Radiation Oncologist, and today we had a nice visit. I really like her a lot...she's smart, honest, and has a great sense of humor. She's another one of my doctors that I not only trust with my life, but enjoy as a person. So far she is pleased with how my skin looks. And I'm nearly a third of the way through the treatments. I told her about my waiting room anxiety and she said, "Well, that's not you so just enjoy your health and read a good book."

I also spoke with my Medical Oncologist this morning on the phone. We had a conversation about my second opinion, and she will continue to research and review my chemo cocktail alternatives. In the mean time, I am not going to think about chemo...I'm not going to research chemo. I am going to cancel my daily appointment with Dr. Google and let the experts agree on the best protocol for me. When I have something to worry about or think about, I will. In the mean time, I am feeling great, and life is going along pretty normal. The kids are having a fun summer, and are sad to see it come to an end. It's been a great summer for us all (well, despite the whole cancer recurrence) and we are looking forward to an action packed fall filled with school, football, vacations, and healing.

Tonight my husband and I are heading out for a fun date on the town to take advantage of Restaurant Week here in DC. We have reservations at a wonderful restaurant we've been wanting to try, and my sister has offered to come hang with the kiddos.

I gotta feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night...

Radiation 101

Over the years, when a medical situation arises, I usually immediately turn to my favorite doctor, who is available 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and does not cost a dime. I am a firm believer that information is power, and in order to fight a beast you have to have respect of what the beast is, and an understanding of what armor and weapons you need to kill the beast. So consulting with this doctor before I meet with my specialists empowers me as an informed patient. With as helpful as this doctor is many times, this doctor has been known to misdiagnose, offer unnecessary worry and freak people out to no end. And, it offers images that are sometimes difficult to erase from your memory. 

I'm sure you know this doctor well...it's Dr. Google.

For some reason, as much as I've researched my cancer, treatments, chemos, surgeries, prognosis, etc, I have never looked to Dr. Google for details about radiation. Perhaps it's because I know so many women who have undergone radiation treatment, and I have heard of their sunburns and fatigue. I have listened to them vent about the tedious task of visiting the hospital every day for weeks on end. I suppose that was all I really needed to know.

Last week, after a very restful week at the beach with my husband's family, and three weeks after my surgery, I headed to the hospital to begin my 6.5 weeks of radiation. (The medical abbreviation is XRT.  One of my smart friends used that an email to me; I had to Google it to verify what she was referring to, and since it makes me feel smart, I'll start referring to it that way as well!) Anyway, I get to keep my hair, I don't have to take any steroids, I don't need a port, and there are no toxic chemicals going in my veins.  This seems like a walk in the park in comparison to the chemo I endured last fall. But I will not underestimate the burns and fatigue they tell me I will have in a few short weeks.

The first couple of days there was still "planning" going on. Listening to the techs and the Radiation Oncologist talk about degrees and angles and positions made me realize these were the folks that were head of the Math Club in school! And they are the ones who loved

 getting new protractors as back to school supplies. Thank goodness for that! They referred to "the physics guys in the back" and I really started appreciating what an exact science XRT is. So, I turned to Dr. Google to get an understanding of it. 

Here's an excerpt from breastcancer.org...

"Radiation therapy uses a special kind of high-energy beam to damage cancer cells. These high-energy beams, which are invisible to the human eye, damage a cell’s DNA, the material that cells use to divide. Over time, the radiation damages cells that are in the path of its beam — normal cells as well as cancer cells. But radiation affects cancer cells more than normal cells. Cancer cells are very busy growing and multiplying — 2 activities that can be slowed or stopped by radiation damage. And because cancer cells are less organized than healthy cells, it's harder for them to repair the damage done by radiation. So cancer cells are more easily destroyed by radiation, while healthy, normal cells are better able to repair themselves and survive the treatment."

Thanks, Dr. Google. Many of my loved ones have asked about XRT, the process, what it's like, etc., so here goes. Every day for 6.5 weeks, I visit the hospital at the same time. I check in, head back and

get changed from the waist up in to a hospital gown, and my techs meet me to take me back to the room. I hop on this table, put my arm in the "arm stirrup" as I affectionately call it, and lay still as a statue for 15 minutes. (Yes, this is my exact table. I took the picture after XRT today!) They use lights and angles and tatoos to line up the machine exactly as the physician designed during my planning. The techs leave the room and I hear a few buzzes and clicks, and they come back in to do it all over again for the other two positions.

At first, I was a little shy about two men up close and personal with my right breast, with their faces inches away from it, drawing on it with a Sharpie pen. Then, I saw a man in the back area with his gown on, undressed from the waist down. Suddenly I realized that these XRT techs see many body parts in a day, and my boob is the least of their worries. And I get to keep my knickers on. Thank goodness for small things.

Now that I'm getting to know my XRT techs, I am starting to ask my Discovery Channel Interactive quesitons, which seems to make them chuckle, shake their head, or roll their eyes. "So, I can't see anything, and I can't feel anything, and I can't smell anything. Aside from hearing a few clicks, how am I supposed to know it's working? How do we know that something is coming out of this machine?" Apparently the computers let us know, and there are a bunch of quality assurance measures they do weekly. Fair question, no?

It is a tad cumbersome to go to the hospital every single day, but I am so blessed that I live close to the hospital, my office is only 3 miles from the hospital, and the appointment is only 15 minutes in and out. Just a week in to it, I'm already appreciating the welcoming smiles of the reception staff and nurses, and I don't even have to tell them my name when I check in. I even know the parking garage attendant by name, and every day he offers a smile and a dose of positive thinking. Today he offered "Hakuna Matata" and informed me that means "no worries." If only he knew how many times we have watched the Lion King with my mom and son! And for that reason it made me smile even more. Apparently Hakuna Matata is the best cure. I think he's on to something.

I have 6 XRT treatments down, 27 to go. I can do this. 

The Backstory...

The last 13 months have proven, without a doubt, that you never know what a day may bring. However now, more than ever, I appreciate the gift that each day is. I can't really reflect on that time right now, since I have spent so much time moving on with life and putting the "Big C" behind me. It's all still written down in Scarlett's Journey, and some day I will go back to read it and reflect. But, for now, that is just a part of my story...a chapter in the middle of my book of life.

The last six weeks has been a new whirlwind. On July 2, 2009, my family and I had a quiet day of reflection, for it had been one year since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I was living my "cancer free" life, growing my hair, getting my body back in shape, and finding a new "normal." I had just had my six month check up with my oncologist, and all was good. We all took a deep breath, and my husband and I decided to get away for a night in beautiful St. Michaels.

We had a fun evening planned, and I hopped in the shower to get ready. The soapy water fell down my chest, I was thinking about what a fun night it was going to be ... until I felt something--a tiny pebble--in the exact same "2 o'clock" spot in my right breast where the cancer was a year ago. I froze, and my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. I touched it again, and then quickly moved my hand away. Touched it, and again, moved my hand away quickly. As the shower water rained down on me, the tears of fear immediately started to fall. I don't know what benign feels like but I know what cancer feels like, and this felt like cancer. But how? Last summer I had a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction -- there was no breast tissue there. And I had just finished chemo 7 months ago. Wasn't that supposed to kill any floating cells? I was not going to let it ruin my evening with my husband so I collected myself and got out of the shower.

When I got out of the shower, my husband said, "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." I said, "I just felt something in the shower. I'm sure it's nothing." But minutes later I dialed my breast cancer surgeon and begged to be seen ASAP that week. The earliest they had was Thursday, and it seemed like an eternity.

At last Thursday arrived, and it was great to see my surgeon. Not only do I trust my surgeon, but I really like her as a person. When she felt the tiny pebble she said, "Oh this little thing? Let me get the ultrasound." Minutes later, she came in with her ultrasound machine and took a look at my little tiny lump. Her initial gut reaction was that it was just fluid, and for a minute my mind was at ease. As she got out a large needle to carefully extract the fluid, my heart raced as I laid as still as statue. But I could see the look of concern grow on her face. "This isn't fluid. We should biopsy it." What? Seriously? Tears rolled down my face as I held back the sob. How is this happening...again? She put a STAT rush on it so I could have the results by the weekend.

It was Friday, July 10 around 5 pm, and I hadn't heard any results. Finally, the phone rang, and I had to walk outside to my front yard to get cell reception. "Hi." My body started to tremble as I heard her friendly voice. "It's cancer. I don't know what to say." I didn't either. My husband looked over and saw the calm but constant tears flow down my face as I listened carefully, and he came over to hold me. She had discussed the results with my oncologist, and she was convinced it was a local recurrence. But, to be sure, they had to schedule a PET scan, and immediately started talking about the imminent surgery and radiation that were in my future. There has to be a reason this is happening. I kept reminding myself of that.

Fast forward through that dramatic week. Thankfully, the PET scan came back clean. Thank God it had not spread. There was a last minute opening in the OR, so my surgeon was able to squeeze me in for a partial mastectomy (who knew that was possible after you already had a mastectomy!) and anxillary dissection 1.5 weeks after I received the news. Fortunately I was able to keep my implant in tact. She removed all of my lymph nodes in my right arm...14 total...all clean. I healed pretty quickly after my surgery. I think my body has been through so much in the last year, this was a breeze in comparison. So, in the midst of a shocking diagnosis, we kept getting good news and answered prayers. Technically I'm back to cancer-free living.

The treatment plan for now is 6.5 weeks of radiation. Because this is such an unusual situation, there are a lot of different opinions as to whether I need chemotherapy again. I wish cancer could be treated with a clear end cure. Like when you break your leg, you have a cast, the bone heals and you don't have to worry about your broken leg anymore. Because I am only 37, the doctors want to throw the kitchen sink at me just to be safe. The chemotherapy protocol/cocktail/timing/decision is to be determined. I will be getting a second opinion next week to determine my final treatment plan. I would really prefer not to endure chemo again, but as my dear friend told me, "It's better to have chemo a second time than cancer a third." Perspective. And, I look in the eyes of my ~4 daughter and ~7 year old son, and know they need me around. So I will do what I have to do to ensure a long life with my family.

Overall we're doing fine. We have been enjoying the summer and not letting the "Big C" take over our lives. I am feeling strong again, and am finally back to my pre-surgery workouts. I want to keep my body strong to ensure it can make it through this next battle well.

This should not be happening, but it is. And as I read recently, you can focus on your problems or focus on your purpose. I choose to focus on my purpose. As crazy as this sounds, I have already touched the lives of many with my story, and if I can help people out there, then it offers peace and purpose.

I have an amazing family and circle of friends and a lot to life for. We can do this. Time to dig deep, people. Time to kick the beast once and for all. Every morning I wake up in my home, next to my husband, and hear the laughter and receive the hugs and kisses from my children, I give thanks for all that I have been blessed with.

And no matter what happens today, I'm alive, and that makes today...A Great Day.