Friday, December 28, 2007

December 28 - Just freaky

I saw the wound care therapist and Dr. Shulman again yesterday. The left (cancer) side is closing up, although there are two small spots that look tenuous. I was pleased to see the general roundness of the central scar; I bet she can make that into a resonably normal areola shape.

The right (supposedly healthy) side is not cooperating. Actually, it's smaller than last week and the skin around the edges doesn't look so much like you can just wipe it off. However, it's still bleeding a fair bit, and I have to change the dressing about every other day.

I reported how I found a dent I could fit my pinkie into in the left breast over the weekend. I can still feel it, but it's not so externally noticeable now. I was freaking out when I found it, so I had Scott look at it. I thought I had popped something and it was leaking all the fluid out. He was wonderfully reassuring for about five minutes before he had to sit with his head between his knees and try not to hyperventilate or pass out.

Anyway, the doctor says it's just the scar tissue binding down on the tissue expander inside. She thinks there will be a lot more scarring on the inside (and obviously outside) because of the wound healing delay. She's hopeful this is temporary, but has no idea how long "temporary" is at this point.

Now I will go practice my own deep breathing and try not to think about foreign objects under the skin and bloody wounds.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

December 25 - Christmas Eve report

Christmas Eve was a little crazy - I had to run all over 3 cities to see all my patients for work and squeeze the wound care center into the middle of the morning. No big changes on that front. Still open, still bleeding, blah, blah, blah. I was trying to finish up everything before the family trooped back downtown for the Christmas Eve Service at church. That was incredible.

By the end of that (only 4:30PM!) the kids were basketcases. Seth even took a nap. We squeezed in the typical one-present opening and fast food and the evening was over early - like the kids were all asleep by 7PM. Probably because they all got up at 4AM.

Good thing... I'm TIRED too...

Thursday, December 20, 2007

December 20 - What's another word for...

I'm so SICK of wounds!

CAUTION: content may be graphic if you're the queasy type.

So, since Thanksgiving, when the surgery sites were practically closed, they have opened and scaled over and opened again so many times I'm starting to doubt my body's ability to make skin. Last week I saw another wound specialist, who removed all the dead epithelium (making the sites even larger appearing). She added a silver dressing again to "decrease the bioburden" (i.e. kill any lingering germs).

However, they're still bloody masses on the front of my chest. The depth to the wound bed filled in and granulated nicely, but the skin just can't seem to survive over the top of it. Skin is kind of important. Especially if you'd like to hold the blood in rather than drip all over. Then there's the whole cosmetic issue...

Today the doctor came down to the wound clinic appointment. Her first reaction was, "Hey, they look better... hang in there." Then I described what had been happening in the last three weeks. "Oh... well something isn't right."

After consulting the team (me, Dr. Shulman, my regular therapist Christine, and another co-worker whose name I can't spell...), she prescribed two weeks of oral antibiotic. There's no obvious infection, but at this point "it can't hurt." Christine also changed the dressing type and increased the wound clinic frequency to 2xwk.

Perfect. Right before Christmas. Good thing I'm not going anywhere.

I see Dr. Shulman again right after Christmas... I'll keep you posted.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

December 8 - Wound clinic update



From Thursday's visit. Picture not to scale. Yes, they're star and moon shaped. Cool, huh?

Monday, December 3, 2007

December 3 - Control Freak

Last week I got full medical release to go back to work. Yea! As in my real job helping homebound patients move better, not tour-guiding co-workers through the community or shuffling papers in the office. I guess I'm pretty independent; I don't like having a babysitter or having to be constantly accountable for my time on the job. I think I'm pretty efficient and responsible, and it feels so belittling to have to justify every minute of the day.

Dr. Shulman put it in a nice way: "I've never had a patient do so much for her own care." Yep, that's me. I pretty much fill out all the medical release stuff and direct the wound care and medication schedule on my own, with her for back-up of course.

This is probably one of my prominent weaknesses - my way of grasping for control of my situation (work, kids, schedules, husband, CANCER, home and community responsibilities). At least I'm beginning to recognize my freakish tendancy.

Maybe it's time to schedule those free massages at the Breast Care Center and chill out a little! As soon as I get the medical bill spreadsheet updated, school snacks packed, weekly menus planned, clean up the kitchen, send out Christmas cards, and complete all the requisite holiday decorating, cookie baking, shopping... Ha! I'll add it to my "to do" list.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

December 2 - Reminder

Just a quick thought now that the holiday shopping season is in full swing and philanthropy is fashionable. Remember you can help donate free mammograms by clicking on the The Breast Cancer Site. They'll record your visit once each day and they track the number of mammograms provided to underprivileged women daily.

Happy December!

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

November 27 -

I had all kinds of witty posts half-written in my head last week (picture football breasts below my smiley face), but we enjoyed time with friends in the mountains of Tennesee instead.

I'm having a love-hate relationship with this blogging thing. Partly because I don't want to harp on the same thing and no one needs this info anyway. Mostly because there isn't any news.

My chest incisions split open again - too much internal pressure from the expanders and the scar tissue inflammatory stage. So blah, blah, blah.
More wound care, more dressing changes, slower healing process, emotional toll...

Dr. Shulman said to throw out the calendar, timetable, planner - anything I might be hoping for - for a year. Depressing.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

November 18 - So tired

I've been wondering why I'm so exhausted all the time - still. I can take 2 naps a day without any difficulty sleeping at night. This doesn't feel normal. I don't remember my kids being able to run relay races around me for hours on end before.

Those who have "been there" are sympathetic and try to be reassuring. I spoke to my cancer buddy from the American Cancer Society Reach to Recovery program this week. We were "matched" because we were diagnosed at a similar age, live in the same area, and both have three kids. However, she had a lumpectomy and chemo/radiation. She describes fatigue, but more related to treatment than surgery. And she was so perky, I suspect she had a more get-up-and-go attitude to start with.

My aunt and mom both say the physical and emotional toll lasted for about 3 months after all the interventions were done, with occasional set backs for a year. And they didn't have jobs or kids to deal with at the time.

Just because it's to be expected, doesn't give me any more patience for myself. If I wasn't dragging so low, I'd give myself a kick in the tail! I'm going to lay on the couch for a while and practice breathing now...

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

November 14 - Jolly Jumblies

Yesterday I went to the plastic surgeon at her regular office for the first time in a month. Got 60mL of saline shot into each side through a 3 inch long needle. Ow.

She's promising I should have "something like boobs for Christmas". I guess that means we're getting back on track. Watch out... I might be BOB-BOB-BOB-sledding your way!

Sunday, November 11, 2007

November 11 - Adventures

This is how much better I am. Scott took off to California for a week to help his mom move and I'm holding down the fort (and frequently one or two children) alone. There's nothing smooth about regular life with work and three kids and a 91 year old gramma babysitter.

So the temperature dropped precipitously and the wind was whistling Dixie through the cracks in the windows. The local EMS guys came by with another friendly neighbor and helped take the 200 pound air conditioner out of the lakefront window. That helped!

Then we lost all power just because that's what happens in this neck of the woods. The kids and I had to get across town, but the automatic garage door had us trapped. So I called California for technical support, got the door manually released, but had to hold it up with both hands by myself. Still stuck.

So Seth (who's 8) had his first driving lesson. My toes, the mailbox across the street, and my screeching hysterical voice were all in danger of extinction for a few seconds. Future reference: point out the gas and brake pedals and gear shift, then reinforce that he does not need the gas to ease out of the garage. After shrieking back and forth in the Volvo wagon a couple times, he got the hang of it and we were both on an adrenaline high and on our way.

Last but not least, I freaked out and thought I had developed another tumor when I felt a hard lumpy area on my top left breast. My kind friend Shelly was here, confirmed the lump, then asked reasonably, "is there one on the other side?". Well, sure enough. Suddenly it hit me - I had found the input valves for the tissue expanders. Hmmm. I not only have a healthy dose of needless paranoia, but thin skin as well. Who knew!

See all the fun Scott's missing?

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

November 7 - Continued thanks

Just a quick note on the continued generosity of our friends, family and co-workers.

Just yesterday Ame gave me an envelope full of cash collected from Memorial Home Care people to buy groceries. We have gotten a few more freezer meals from friends. My dad sent money for new pink work shirts. My sister even sent her extra car payment check our way.

I wish I could say we didn't even need this kind of help, but with me not working up to full capacity yet and trying to pay off the medical bills, it has been a little tight. Like trying to squeeze orange juice from a Wheat Thin.

I'm thankful to God for continued provisions through all the wonderful people around us.

Monday, November 5, 2007

November 5 - Wheee!

Today was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. It's not me, I'm fine really.

On the upswing, it was my middle child's birthday today. He sat straight up in bed at 5:30 AM and announced in his best volume projected voice "I'm F-I-V-E now!". He's currently sleeping on the floor on my side of the bed, so I rushed to quiet him, but without success. He had the rest of the kids up within minutes.

So Skyler had a great day, with orange cupcakes, an attendance award at school, presents and whatever he wanted for supper.

But we also found out a long-time Johnson family friend, JoAnn, passed away from metastatic breast cancer. She has been struggling with advancing disease for several months, but this is still a sad loss for all who knew her. She has three successful grown children and many loving day care kids from her business left behind.

Then there are all the other little bumps that happen to those we love around us. Scott sells a car on Ebay at a great profit. Yea! A friend has to fire another friend at work. Boo. My older son is reduced to tears over the unfairness of cake distribution. Ummm... life isn't fair.

Holding on tight and trying to keep my supper down!

Saturday, November 3, 2007

November 2 - Medical update

I saw the doctor yesterday at the wound care center. She brought her 18 month old daughter dressed up as a plastic surgeon - complete with a marker and a giant syringe of "Botox". Dr. Shulman believes in early career influences like me... "train them up in the way they should go" and all that. Adorable.

Anyway, we're down from 4 gaping wounds to 2 bloody, centrally located patches, which is great. I only have to go to the wound care center once a week for continued evaluation and monitoring. The doctor will start filling the tissue expanders a little more next week.

I asked about the weird sloshiness and shape, but she said that was normal with the tissue expanders and it's only an intermittant stage. She said she'd "break all that up and re-shape it in the next surgery". Sounds painful to me...




So I'm stuck with triangular boobs in my armpits for the next 6 months or so, which is apparently "normal" at this stage.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

October 31 - Spooky

Here are a few weird things going on right now: phantom nipples and sloshy chest.

I love the crisp, pungent air this time of year. The temperature has dropped, the leaves are falling, the humidity is gone. The mornings are dark and frosty. My chest is one of the first indicators of the seasonal change. True, I have holes where nipples are supposed to be, but apparently my brain still reads chilly exposure as nippin' weather.

And apparently the skin has stretched a little, because when I leaned over to get the wet clothes out of the washer this weekend, I could hear and feel the gurgling in my chest. The doctor says the barely-filled balloons are folded over inside me. They tend to gather in my armpit. I sound like I've had 4 big glasses of water, sloshing around every time I bend over or roll. Eeeeww.

Happy Halloween!



Wednesday, October 24, 2007

October 24 - BCA II

I got great news today. Well, actually awful news, but something I've been waiting to hear. A friend of mine named Karen found out about my current journey from her son, read the blog and thought she should get checked. She has Stage 2 breast cancer and, in a whirlwind of tests and suggestions over the past three weeks, she has already started chemo.

Whenever something traumatic happens, people are inspired to look for deeper meaning in life or a silver lining. I sort of thought I should be doing this as well: getting in touch spiritually or treasuring my time on Earth or something profound. But that's not really in my nature.

Mostly, the last three months have been just uncomfortable and inconvenient.

So, I've been waiting to hear that at least the people I know are learning something from my experience. Beyond the pink billboards and smiley commercials, people should know that cancer is real and scary and much more common than we think. Something like one in five women will get breast cancer. Men with breast cancer in their family have an 8% increased chance of getting it too.

Karen is a nurse, around my mom's age, and she totally knows better. However, she admitted to only doing self-exams about twice in her life and having mammograms...(quantity unknown).

Breast cancer is one of the "lucky" ones that is actually treatable, especially if you catch it early. If it runs in your family, you should do monthly self-checks, annual breast exams, and mammograms 10 years before the onset of cancer in your family. (Which I found out after I was diagnosed.) If it doesn't run in your family, you should do monthly self-checks, annual breast exams and mammograms yearly from age 40 on. I don't think all the pretty pink ribbon hype is clear on this.

So, while it sucks that I know someone else going through the trials of cancer treatment and recovery, I'm glad she caught it and is able to move forward from here.

And that's what I have to say about Breast Cancer Awareness.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

October 23 - Surgery scars

Thought everyone might be getting tired of the word "wounds", although the surgery areas aren't really closed yet. However, I wanted to write down a few thoughts since this is still the major medical concern.

Most importantly, things are healing up nicely considering the depth and yuckiness from two weeks ago. My P.T., Christine, estimates it will still probably be a couple months before we have full re-epitheliazation (new closed skin) and real scars. I am so thankful for my co-worker and friend, Rose, who took her day off and a debridement kit to come assess the situation initially at my home on October 12th. She helped really get things on the right track.

I continue to be very pleased with my care team. Dr. Shulman messes up some of my pre-conceived ideas about plastic surgeons. First of all, they're not all in it for the big bucks. (Although I'm sure she's doing well supporting her stay-at-home husband and young child.) She is committed to providing practical and compassionate care. Also, they don't all look like Barbie or McSteamy. Check out this link for a quick peek and her references: http://www.plasticsurgerycenter.net/credentials_shulman.html.
I'd recommend her to anyone.

I continue to be thankful for all my co-workers. They are making the transition back to regular working hours - i.e. no naps - easier by bringing in family dinners to take home on work days. Last week Ame made a full Thanksgiving feast, Judy made the best chicken soup ever and brownies, and last night Sharon G. made a yummy steak and potatoes supper complete with homemade apple pie and ice cream.

The best part of being back to work is feeling a little more productive. The worst part is how tired and achy I still am. Even with frequent task and position changes, I was never cut out for office work.

But today is my day off. So I think I'll take that afternoon nap.

Monday, October 22, 2007

October 22, 2007 - Wound Care

What's wrong with me? I know it's all in my mind. I should be able to tunnel through this mental wall that springs up in front of me when I see an open wound. Logically, I should be able to look without my head becoming a helium-filled latex orb while my legs remain cemented to the floor with lead.

It must be that I know it's on a person and it's not natural. Kind of like some of those pictures in National Geographic. The guy pulling a loaded wagon using hooks stuck in his back, or the lady who looks like a duck-billed platypus with the metal plate in her lip. I can't look at those either. Don't even get me started on House.

Maybe it's because of what it represents. Pain. I hate to see someone hurting. Especially when there's such an obvious physical manifestation of the pain. When Mel has a migraine, my eyes don't roll up into my skull and I don't collapse, jerking with spasms. Probably because I can't see the head ache.

Maybe it's a skin thing. What is it about skin? I like skin. Skin is good. But for some reason, when skin is split open, it triggers a switch that opens the dam holding back this reservoir of chunks waiting on the other side.

Having shared that, I'm happy to say Melisa has been going to the Wound Care Center at Memorial for the past week. Last Tuesday she saw Dr. Shulman who suggested we hold off filling the tissue expanders until the wounds have healed for a couple of weeks. She sent Mel to the Wound Care Center, claiming they have all the good gizmos and voo-doo to speed up the healing process.

It's been a relief for Mel (and me) not to be burdened with changing the wound dressings twice a day. Now she's supposed to have the dressings changed a few times a week by the PT at the hospital. In a couple of weeks we'll see how she's healing, and probably start expansion again.

Other than dealing with open wounds, Melisa has been doing fantastic. She started back to work last Tuesday. They've been so good to her there. I'm amazed at how supportive, understanding and giving they are. In my opinion she couldn't work for a better place.

They've been keeping her busy in the office, making sure she doesn't over do it. Telling her to take it slow and heal. It shows how much they value her. She's not just a number. Large corporations are typically selfish and make decisions based SOLELY on the bottom line. I understand you need to make a profit to stay in business. But I also understand, like Memorial, that if you treat your people right they'll stay. That's a lot cheaper in the long run than having a high turnover rate.

When we saw Dr. S last week, she prescribed some more Percocet for Mel. She'd been having trouble sleeping just using over the counter pain killers. The Percocet did the trick. She's actually to the point now where she's made it through the last two nights without prescription pain meds. Either the tunnel's getting shorter, or the light at the end is brighter. Regardless, we can now see the light there and we're moving towards it. Slowly.

I'll keep you posted.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

October 17 - "Vacation" is Over

I guess my first clue should have been when Naomi came straight downstairs at 5 in the morning to "snuggle with Mommy" two days in a row last week. Skyler was next, coming straight to me for help going to the bathroom at 6AM. For those who don't know my home layout, I have been sleeping on a spare bed crammed in an unfinished storage room in the basement since surgery. I normally sleep with Scott in a second floor loft room, and the kids share a room on the main floor. I moved downstairs because of the multiple nightly visits we get from small people with sharp elbows and wiggly knees. Scott's a heavy sleeper, so I'm usually the nighttime/early morning parent.

I also had my first day back to work yesterday after a long morning at the doctor. Actually, Dr. Shulman's visit was pretty short. She took one look at my chest and wrote an order to be seen that morning by the wound care team at the hospital. Then I spent the next 25 minutes trying to complete my legal medical leave paper work correctly with her staff. The wound care physical therapist was very kind, using local lidocaine to decrease the pain before digging. She also switched the types of dressings to poly-mem foam and gauze, which she is scheduled to change 2-3xwk. Yea! No more twice daily blubbering sessions in front of the mirror with a butter knife.
This does set the healing process back quite a bit, because it may be a month or more before the wounds close, and we don't want to put more stress on the area by adding any more saline till after that. So I'm looking at probably 4 more months of light duty (office work vs. physical therapy) and at least weekly doctors visits. Sigh...

I'm disappointed in the delayed healing and how I didn't get anything productive or amazingly fun done at home in the five weeks I've been off. Seems like such a waste of paid time off! I would have rather gone to Hawaii. It would have been cheaper too. (I'm not even getting started on the medical bills rolling in daily!)

Well, back to the old grind.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

October 14, 2007 - BCA

Everyone seems to be jumping on the Breast Cancer Awareness wagon. Ford has a BCA Mustang advertised with Kelly Clarkson's BCA line of clothing (which is refreshingly not dorky). I was smacked in the face by a complete display of pink ribbony things in Bed Bath & Beyond. You can buy gobs of things that donate money to the awareness of breast cancer. The weird thing is that people seem to be aware of Breast Cancer Awareness, but not so aware of the actual threat of breast cancer.

You had breast cancer? Oh, wow. That is just terrible. My dog once had an ingrown toenail. Let me tell you all about it BLAH . . . And they proceed to barf their story all over you.

I think many people consider breast cancer to be one of those easy cancers. Like CliffsNotes cancer, diet cancer or 1/2 the cancer with 0% trans fat. You're so lucky it isn't REAL cancer. Oh, let's bip in there and skip-a-dee-doo-da-day all those naughty little cancers. We'll sing about marshmallows and sunshine and wish the little evils away. Then we'll hocus pocus some Care Bear band-aids on the ouchies and tomorrow you'll be new. Yea!

I'm sad to say, that was also me. But I'm not clueless anymore. Neither is Mel. She thought after a month she'd at least have B cups and be PTing the heck out of everyone. In contrast, she's spreading Silvadene like mayo over her wounds, spending infinity in the shower and waking up with her new boobs in her armpits.

It's been a month since surgery. Only a month, but let's review. A mastectomy is essentially a complete AMPUTATION of the breast. If you have it done to both breasts, that's obviously two mastectomies. And it's not just that. When cancer's involved it entails a scooping out of the insides. In my opinion, you should scoop ice cream. You should scoop a story. You should never scoop things from your body. It's painful, it's weird, and it sucks. Mel will back me up on that.

Fortunately, because of how early the cancer was discovered, she doesn't have to face the additional trauma of chemo or radiation therapy. As unaware as we were about the seriousness of breast cancer and the agony of recovery, we were at least aware enough to get immediate medical attention.

No one should have to go through what she's battling. But if you're aware and prepared, it's a battle you can win. There are throngs of women with the scars to prove it. Tonight as I was holding my wife and struggling with the reality of our life, I couldn't help but wonder. Why her? It's not fair. She's suffering. She's in emotional and physical anguish. She doesn't deserve this.

But then I thank God because she's alive. And she's recovering. And I know a year from now the pain won't be completely gone and her wounds won't be completely healed, but every day she'll be a little bit better. And she does deserve that.


Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Shout out to the peeps

OK, I think Scott is falling behind with the multitude of thank you's and funny updates. So, I've compiled a brief, non-descriptive, uninteresting list. I'm sure I've forgotten several someone's... please don't be offended. I'm really grateful and continually overwhelmed (even when I'm not hormonally off-balance) for what you all do!

Thanks to Kathryn for the taco stuff, that was ingenious. Thanks to Judy for the groceries and all the household chores; my mums survive because of you. Thanks to Harry for the awesome crock pot stew which miraculously arrived (via Ame) while I was napping. Thanks especially to Shelly for all the support and picking up and feeding Naomi after preschool. Thanks to Grammy for the great bakery goods - eclairs are our favorite. Thanks to Carrie for the pizza/macaroni. Thanks to Stacy for the full fledged meal - very creative and the cookies were gone the next day. Thanks to Sharon G. and Tom for their kind words and continued offers of help. Thanks to Minu and Dad for the bean dip and cards - we're happy to win at Rook anytime. Thanks to the Michaels and Meyers and our new friends the Jakes for a great evening and the funniest spring break story of all time. Thanks to whoever sent all the paper plates and plastic ware - brilliant! Thank you to whoever sent the beef noodles and the yummy cake tonight. Thank you for the new scented lotions - I'm reserving their use until the wound issues clear up, mostly because of the whole associated-smells thing. I'll have to change shampoos, soap and deodorant, too.

Ame deserves her own paragraph because not only has she coordinated meals for the family and deliveries over the last month from work, but she also spent several hours around the house tonight. She brought extra dressings so the Kotex are on hold for now. She made my house look festive and Halloweeny despite my paltry decorations and actually got Scott to wash the sheets. That girl is amazing!

See, we've been pretty busy, and despite what my doctor thinks, I am eating quite well.

Thanks.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

October 9 - Today

Today started much like yesterday ended - tired, sore, and more tears. I think I hid it better from the kids, though. Helps that the bus comes before the sun comes up.

Went to see Dr. Shulman, the plastic surgeon, first thing as scheduled. I almost made the medical assistant teary too since I couldn't stop blubbing. So after my sob story, we all decided to wait another week to "pump up the volume". They removed the tapes and stitches (hallelujah!), and have changed the wound care regime. Now I have 2x daily Silvadene goop to put on both sides, and Dr. Shulman said I could cover it with sterile pantiliners. Weird. I'm sticking with regular medical dressings till I run out. She also gave me a rx for Percocet, the stronger pain medicine, because that's the only thing that seems to work at night. During the day I get away with occasional Tylenol or Advil, so I'm really feeling much better overall. I did get a limited work release, so as soon as the medical leave people approve it, I'll be back at the office at least a few hours at a time, probably Tuesdays and Thursdays.

After picking up the prescriptions and a few groceries, I was pretty much worn out and gloomy again. I slept half the afternoon. Thank you to all for your continued comments on the blog, calls, cards and all the great food and supplies. Scott has a whole list of specific "thank you's" and his humorous narrative on the last week's activities, so look for more info soon.

Tomorrow will be better...

October 9 - Yesterday

Yesterday was a great day! I drove for the first time. Granted it was with a huge pillow between my chest and the seat belt, and probably at granny speed. Parking is still a little tricky, involving 6 point turns. Anyway, I took my 3 year old to preschool, which is big in the me-doing-something-functional department and the yea-Scott-doesn't-have-to-do-everything arena. I went for a little walk, then had the afternoon to rest when Scott took the kids to the lot.


I took a shower, which is still a tiring, weird-feeling contortionist activity because of the nerve damage on my chest, back and arm pits. Then started the daily wound cleaning. I thought things looked a little gushier than usual, so I used an extra sponge and looked close in the mirror to check for signs of infection - and promptly lost it. As in heaving, uncontrollable sobs in a heap on the floor. For half an hour - I'm not exaggerating.

What would trigger such a gut emotional reaction in my otherwise rational and practical self? Stretch marks. Yep, silly little scars that indicate rapid skin stretching. Harmless, faded pink tiger stripes. And on the lower half, so not even in the cleavage area. Still.

Oddly, for me, I needed to talk to someone about it, and didn't want anyone to tell me rationally how petty I was being. You know, "at least the cancer's gone and you're not going to die", or anything. I called my aunt, who also had breast cancer in her 30's and happens to be a women's psychologist. So I cried for another hour and she said all the right stuff. I was better for a minute, but called Scott to warn him about the hormonal emotion zone at home just in case. Then I took 2 antihistamines and tried to sleep it off.

Well, the short nap did not even out the hormonal tears every time I opened my mouth, but we got through kid bed time. Then I cried through a re-run of House and an admittedly sad chapter of the book I'm reading (History of Love). Over the course of the next 4 hours I took Valium, Tylenol, Benadryl, Vicodin and Ambien to try to sleep. I was so incredibly sore - probably from all the sobbing - that I was up all night anyway.

Yesterday may have been the day the machine broke down. I'm sending it back for robotic repairs emergently!

Saturday, October 6, 2007

October 6 - Occupational advantages

Why working in a rehab profession helps recovering from major surgery make more sense:

1. I only pick my own doctors based on if they are supportive of therapy and have responded to my professional requests within a reasonable time in the past.

2. I already know the anatomy and physiology - although I had forgotten how closely tied the tummy muscles and chest muscles work together to, say, get out of bed.

3. I already know that if it hurts if you don't move and it hurts if you do move, you might as well move it sista!

4. Working with occupational therapists has given me cool toys like a long-handled pink scrubby thing. It's the only way to reach my own back in the shower at this point, which still involves some awkward yoga-like positioning.

5. I know the difference between staples and stitches. Although at the moment I'm not thrilled with the 3 inches of thick, poky, blue fishing line sticking out of either end of the incisions.

6. I also know that, while it makes me a little queasy to think about, next Tuesday when they yank those pull-cords out, my chest will not flop open like sushi souffle.

7. Painting your nails becomes a functional activity, including sustained stretching of nerves and muscles (Ouch!), an endurance test (who has time for this on a regular basis?!) and energy conservation training (I think I need a nap now).

8. I work in a caring profession, with lots of wonderful, empathetic and supportive people. They've watched people recovering for years, and are good at reminding what to expect and when to slow down. Thanks all!

I'm going to lie down now... Mel

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Is it October already?

We thought that you may have missed our more regular postings, so Scott and I are catching up today. Scott felt that my last note (Sept 22 - What Surgery Feels Like) may have been a little raw and negative, so I'm hoping to keep my attitude in check this time. No promises. Sometimes I'm a bit sarcastic - it's genetic.

Physically, I've made a lot of improvements. I'm weaning off the heavier prescription meds, using them mostly to get more comfortable rest at night. I still have a tight band of numbness around my chest that makes deep breathing difficult, and occasional sharp stabs especially along the left side where the lung drain was and along the sternal borders on both sides. It is uncomfortable to rest my arms at their sides because my armpits are numb. I hunch up and walk around like a football player with a shortened left arm. Weird. The back of my left arm feels like the funny bone keeps getting bumped. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ow!

The toughest part is emotional. I'm not comfortable being emotional - more of a get up, get it done, suck-it-up-and-move-on kind of person. (That's why I'm such a great encouragement to therapy patients, right?) I'm good with empathy and patience for a couple days max. Soooo... I'm stuck. This is taking WAY longer than I planned. I adore all the help and support we're getting - we couldn't function as a family without it (and sometimes it's still sketchy, like Skyler's homework not getting done and none of the three school fundraisers being even acknowledged). But I feel guilty, and weak, and so incredibly tired.

My kind friend Tammy reminded me yesterday of the spiel I give post-surgical patients all the time. "Your body's been through a major trauma, it often takes 4-8 weeks to get your energy back. You'll find swelling and odd sore places off and on for several months and may even have times of fatigue 6 to 12 months later. This is all typical of the process... yada yada yada." But most of those people are at least over 70. Shouldn't I sail through in at least half-time? I'm only 33! (Of course, my mom says I've been this age since I was 3... maybe that's having some effect.) Sometimes, in darker teary moments, I envy those patients. They're often retired, living in a paid-for home with a supportive retired spouse, worrying about getting back to the library book club or golf course. Ah, the golden years... (anyone in geriatrics knows I'm kidding.)

Enough about me. I'm too tired for any more whining. Hope all is fantastic with all our family and friends. Mel

October 2, 2007 - Gory Details

This past week has been a blur of activity. I was going to touch some of the highlights, but opted for gently massaging them instead . . .

WARNING - NASTY DETAILS ALERT: On Monday last week Mel decided I should be her wound care specialist. Hello. That's a recipe for disaster. I've seen what the surgery sites look like, and it doesn't bother me. But last week she started worrying about a couple of spots and talking about eschar (that's Greek for "yuck") and debridement. I wish I had a picture of my face when she first showed me. I think I covered my eyes. It was a gut reaction and I felt bad afterwards because I was worried she thought I couldn't look at her. It wasn't that at all. Luckily she knows me and knows my aversion to anything involving blood/guts/puss/needles/etc. so she wasn't offended by my reaction. I think she giggled, but she may have been high from the meds and the position she had to hold her head to point out the problem areas.


The first spot she was worried about was ringed in red and had a nice milky center. Hold on. I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it. She was asking me to remove the whitish-yellow center using a pair of sterilized tweezers, while I was trying not to faint. I did my best. Unfortunately, my best debridement is worse than no debridement at all. I couldn't get any of it off and decided the proper solution for all parties involved would be to defer this job to the nurse. There was another much bigger area that had blistered up and was filled with juice that looked like root beer without the fizz. I had developed my sea legs by now, so I popped that thing like I would any blister - eyes closed and chomping with the tweezers. That time Mel was the one who almost fainted.

Just to be safe, Melisa called the doctor and we went to see her last Tuesday morning. She said everything looked as expected and was healing nicely considering there wasn't really enough skin on the left (cancer) side to start with. I also got her to prescribe Mel some "Knock It Off" and a bottle of "Quit Trying To Do Everything". She's been terrible at taking those for the last several days. But don't worry. I'm on it.

This past weekend was awesome for me because my brother, Jeremy, was visiting from Washington. We got in some good quality brother time playing Halo 3 and Wii. We also spent a lot of time at my Dad's with the kids, so Mel got some good rest after over-doing it a bit last week.

This morning, we had another appointment with Dr. Shulman. It was the much anticipated and historic visit where she started filling the tissue expanders. Instant boobies. The Right Side has healed more since the surgery, so it got the full 60cc and triumphed with today's Best in Show. The Left Side is the one with the afformentioned wounds. It received 30cc and still came in with an Honorable Mention. Don't give up on the Left Side yet. It's a fighter and this battle isn't over. I'm confident it will give Righty a run for it's money. Mel's just hoping for an even tie.

October 2, 2007 - Melons


Last week Melisa got a surprise care package from Lara (her sis) and Josh (her sister's new husband) with Aunt Beanie's help. It was crammed full of assorted chocolate goodies, reading materials and wierd things to do like potato bonsai. However, the prize of this treasure chest was the miniature water melon and cantaloupe. Really. They sent her a brand new set of "melons". Apparently the "Milk Jugs" were too heavy. Thanks guys for that. You made us laugh!

On Sunday last week, Mel's friends from book club sent her home with a plethora (yes, I said plethora) of meals, goodies, gift cards and cake! Thank you Arin, Corrine, Michelle, Summer, Tania and Theresa!! Our next-door neighbors from Hungary also sent over a load of homemade applesauce and unique peach preserves. Interesting.

During the week, we enjoyed some killer blueberry coffee cake (among other delicious things like chicken pasta) from Cheryl. On Tuesday, Ame brought macaroni and ham with a cute card from Jenny. Sunday we had Papa John's pizza, apples, gourmet cookies, flowers and other goodies from Kim.

Already this week Adrian has sent over fruit and chili, and Judy bought soy milk. Sarah sacrificed her afternoon off to feed and care for our two youngest most energetic challenges, Skyler (4) and Naomi (3). She has one of her own and was kind enough to brave the chaos and give Mel some much needed rest. On top of that, she brought lunch she'd made. Thank you so much! You have no idea what a blessing you all are. The meals have been devoured with much cheering and celebration. My family sends their love and thanksgiving because they know that the alternative would have been an eternity of PB&Js and cereal. Oh, and toaster waffles. I make a mean toaster waffle now. Mel taught me.

By the way, Melisa wants everyone to know that she works for the best company in the world. No. She's not just saying that. The people who work for Memorial Home Care live out the vision and values of an incredible organization in the care they give for each other as much as their patients. She has had a choice as a physical therapist where to work, and has always "just felt" that MHC was the right place. Everyone has been so kind, understanding, helpful and concerned. Above and beyond what we could have ever hoped for. Thank you.

I thought people would start forgetting about us a week or two after Mel's surgery, and moving on with their lives. It's been exactly the opposite. You've blessed us more than we could have imagined or even asked for. And you won't stop! We love you for that. Thank you for taking care of us, and especially caring for Mel. She needs it and she deserves it, and she's lucky to have you.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

September 25, 2007 - Nutshell

Melisa is doing great!

(See. I used a nutshell this time.)

Sunday, September 23, 2007

September 23, 2007 - Play is Work

I love my kids. I love hanging with them. I love watching them interact. If you have kids you know exactly what I mean. You'll also relate to how much I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I get to go to work. Work is the new vacation. There's a few hours where all I have to do is work. Phew. That will be easy.

It isn't that taking care of the kids is hard, it's just constant. Unfortunately I'm more of a sprinter than a marathon runner. For example, my idea of a good time is let's play Playmobil for an hour, then let's sleep for three! I don't know about your kids, but mine don't speak that language. They think, let's play Playmobil for an hour, then let's play Lego, cars, build a fort, draw, play Play-Doh, take the couches apart, leave everything as it is, then go outside and roll in the dirt. There's so much to do, and so little time! I don't remember play being this much work when I was a kid.

Now that Melisa is on "vacation" I can see how much of her I'm not. There are so many pieces of our day's puzzle that she's responsible for finding and placing. I have an entirely new appreciation for her. I remember the day of her surgery. When I finally got to see her she was still groggy. Yet somehow, in the few minutes we had together, she wanted to make sure Mom and Charlie went to Skyler's open house at school and reminded me about Seth's open house the next day, and don't forget the library books, and sign the daily planner, etc., etc., etc. I don't remember that stuff five minutes after I've looked at the calendar. She's barely lucid, and more on top of it than me. She's amazing. But you already knew that.

So, an update. Melisa is doing fantastic. The pain is still there, but she's down to one Percocet every five hours instead of two every three to four hours. I can tell she's feeling physically a lot better because now she's concerned more with emotional things. Those are harder to overcome because you can't just take a Tylenol to fix it. I've been using a steady dose of love and hugs, and that seems to diminish the pain but doesn't take it away completely. It's probably a time thing and keeping her otherwise occupied. We had some great laughs with John and Shelly last night. Thanks for hanging with us, guys. And thanks for dinner! It was so much fun and we were laughing so hard, but I think Mel paid for it at midnight when she needed two Percocet again. She said it was worth it.

There are a few physical aspects that we're concerned about and going to call the doctor on tomorrow. If you're worried about Too Much Information, skip ahead . . . With the drainage tubes removed the fluid is building up inside. Her right side seems to be doing great, but the left looks more swollen than it should. I saw it and said, "Alright!" Mel disagreed, "No. It's not alright." There was also some weird looking scarring that we think needs to be checked. I'll keep you posted.

Before leaving, I want to say a quick thank you again to everyone. Every day we're surprised with gifts of food, company, cards, calls, emails, child care, etc. On Thursday, Linda brought us a delicious dinner. The roasted chicken was one of the best we've ever had! Thank you, Linda for taking the time to come see us and feed us.

On Friday Ame came with a ginormous pizza and then some. Luckily I've met Ame, or I'd think she was fictitious. I don't know how many times she's come bearing gifts, but I haven't seen her once. Mel assures me it was her. She's like a thief in the night, except she leaves stuff and it's during the day. Thank you, Ame. You've been amazing. Thank you for taking great care of us and coordinating meals for us from so many incredible people. We appreciate you!

Yesterday morning Mel's mom left. She's been such a tremendous help. I'll probably miss her the most because I have to do all the stuff she's been doing! Around lunch time I was wandering around in a daze like a bird that had just made unexpected contact with a window. I knew I should be preparing lunch, but couldn't decide where to start. My peripheral vision was becoming fuzzy. Fortunately for the occupants of our house, the doorbell rang and in walked Minu (my Dad's wife). She brought us a "snack" which instantly got renamed "lunch". See. I CAN make lunch. Anyway, we had a great visit with Minu, and she offered to bring lunch again today. We didn't want to be rude, so we said, "Please?" Thank you, Minu. You always cook for us, and we always love it!

This afternoon Mel got to spend some quality time with Arin and friends. She is so happy to just be doing some normal, fun things. Thanks for taking care of her, Arin. She loves spending time with you and it keeps her mind off things that are otherwise depressing.

Well that's the current news in a pumpkin shell. I'll try to use a nutshell next time.

_______________________________________

p.s. Sorry Ame. I totally butchered your name without realizing it. I fixed it, now that it's too late. :)

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Sept 22 - What Surgery Feels Like

Just so we're clear, I'm living on Percocet and prayers (with Valium for good measure thanks to the brilliance of my plastic surgeon) right now. So I may be a litle off. Plus it's fivo o-clock in the morning and I can't get comfortable to sleep. But anyway, many ask "oooh, how are you?" or say "you sound so great! you must be recovering nicely." And I probably am, each day it's a little easier to move, and I'm not snowed out on the couch or anything.

However, this is what it feels like...
They searched and found the biggest needle in the hospital and with cheery smiles pumped my left chest full-to-bursting of saline - like you would any turkey you were preparing to baste for the holidays. Then they carved OFF the right side of my chest. Dr. Poulin played his favorite banjo ditty on my brachial plexus (the nerve complex that comes off the spinal cord and down your arm) for half an hour, then they sewed the right side back on - INSIDE OUT! It looks yucky and it feels yucky. Plus it often feels like there's a growly momma gorilla sitting on my chest, and she doesn't want to move.

And sometimes I'm a little emotional about that.

So people pat my head and tell me it's normal and to be expected. I just thought you all might want to know that it doesn't really FEEL normal. So sometimes I might say something that's a bit off color or unkind. Sorry in advance... Sleep well...

Mel

Friday, September 21, 2007

September 21 - Moms are Gold

Just a quick note because Scott says people would like to hear from me. I don't feel like I have anything to say that's witty or even intelligent or helpful. I'm alive (yea!) and processing this whole surgery drama not nearly as well as I had hoped. My mother is the main reason I'm surviving. She has had to manage the household and take care of every little thing for me. I couldn't get out of bed or wash up or get a drink of water for days. She's amazing and I'm so glad she was available to help. I will miss her when she goes tomorrow, but I know her wonderful care and talents are needed in the next stage of her journey. She's driving to California to join her husband in their new home.



Thanks to all the great friends from Memorial Home Care who have supported us with meals and groceries this week so Mom could focus on me and the kids without getting too burned out.



More soon... Mel

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

September 19, 2007 - Hang With Me

I wanted to tell you a sweet little story first. But then I thought, "Naw. I'll wait 'til later. Give you something to look forward to." So now you have to wade through acres of amazing literary real-estate just to get to the story at the end. No cheating and skipping ahead. Get your boots on and start wading.

Yesterday was a great day. Melisa was feeling so much better. She had a couple of appointments, so I took the morning off and hung out with her. The first appointment was the much anticipated visit to Dr. Shulman, the plastic surgeon. We got there right at 9 and were ushered in almost immediately. If you ever find yourself in the situation where you need to make an appointment with the doctor, I recommend choosing the first appointment of the day. Unless you're a weirdo and like waiting.

p.s. Don't tell everyone this secret. We can't ALL be first.

The nurse proceeded to remove the bandages from the surgery sites while Mel's skin threw a tantrum. Apparently her skin had a master plan: We must bond with the tape indefinitely! The nurse said, "No." She must have kids. After a bit of coaxing and threatening, the bandages were begrudgingly released and Dr. Shulman came in.

There hadn't been much drainage from the surgery sites for the last day, so she decided to remove the drainage tubes. (Mel has been singing "Free Bird" ever since.) Throughout the process I used my vast knowledge of Lamaze and took deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth and I still almost fainted. Weird, because it didn't even hurt me that much and I wasn't watching. (Just because my hands were covering my eyes doesn't make me a chicken.) Mel handled it way better than I did. I know. You're not surprised.

Melisa has been kind of pushing it for the last few days. She's been frustrated that she can't be more mobile and do more. I've been trying to get her to knock it off and chill, to no avail. So I asked Dr. Shulman to please tell her it was okay to sit around and do nothing. Relax. Read. Rest. Let people do for HER. I think it worked. Dr. S told her to quit doing stuff and take the time to heal. Two weeks from now we're going back to see her, and she may let Mel start doing light duty things. At that time they'll also start filling the tissue expanders. A week after that they'll remove the stitches. From there it's just filling the tissue expanders every couple of weeks until the cleavage is at the appropriate level of awesomeness. The doc said there's a mixture of cocoa butter and vitamin E that you need to rub on the expanding area to avoid stretch marks. Ok. If I have to. :)

Our next appointment was with Genetic Counseling at 11. We got there a bit early, but they were able to see us right away and proceeded to cram thirty seconds of info into fifteen minutes. Here's your family tree. The blah blah one gene looks great, but there's a variance on the blah blah two gene. Which means we don't know anything. Could be something, but could just as easily be nothing. No one else with cancer in Mel's family tree has had testing, so until they do there's no way to know if the variance on the blah blah two gene means anything. Blah blah blah. That's how I feel about that appointment.

That evening, Amy played Santa Claus. Again. She brought frozen pancakes we can just pop in the toaster, special fiber treats from Cathy and dinner from Rose. I'm going to be spoiled! Thank you so much for dinner, Rose, it was excellent. And thank you Amy for taking the time to come over.

Today Melisa had an appointment with the Oncologist. I wanted to go so badly because they have a killer selection of Tootsie Pops there. Unfortunately Naomi's swimming orientation was this morning as well, so I opted to show off my farmer's tan (yeah, baby) at the pool while Elizabeth (Mel's mom) took Mel to the doc. News from the Oncologist? Melisa is COMPLETELY cancer free! She has no greater risk of developing cancer again than anyone else. Melisa - 1, Cancer - 0.

Diane called this evening to say she was on the way over and she was bringing dinner. She lied. When she got here she had to make THREE trips to bring everything in! Not only did she bring dinner, she brought groceries and supplies as well. Apparently her husband, Louie (sorry if I'm butchering the spelling!), is the culinary genius and the one responsible for this evening's feast. Thank you both, it was delicious! I managed to share some of the Capri Sun with the kids, but couldn't bring myself to part with the cookies. They arrived just in time. One more day and I would have been going through withdrawals. Have you met Diane? She didn't stop there. She also hung out for a little while talking with Mel and painting her and Naomi's nails. Thank you again, Diane and Louie. You are so kind and we appreciate you.

Alright. You're done wading. Here's the story I wanted to tell you . . . Tonight I was putting Naomi to bed. She said prayers, snuggled up with Pinkie and Blankie and had one last swallow of water. As I was tucking her in, she gazed up at me with her big green eyes and whispered, "Hang with me, Daddy." "What?" I responded. I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly. She wrapped her little arms around my arm and laid her head against my shoulder. "Hang with me, in my bed. I can move over." So I did. It was such a sweet moment. One I'll remember forever.

Thank you for that. I've been able to spend so much time with my family these last couple of weeks because of you. Not having to deal with much of the mundane, and just being able to focus on being a husband and father has been an incredible blessing. Thank you for taking care of us. And thank you for letting me hang with my family.

Monday, September 17, 2007

September 17, 2007 - Sleepy Time

I can't believe it's been four days since my last post! Apparently being home is busier than I expected. At the end of every day, I place the blog on one scale and sleepy time on the other. Sleepy time's been winning. Obviously. Sorry about that.

Melisa is doing so well. I know she doesn't feel like she is, but I notice the difference. On Friday, 9/14 she had the pain catheters removed. Since then she's been managing pain with two tablets of Percocet every 4 hours, but you can tell when it's been 3-4 hours. She starts looking uncomfortable and moving around less. Otherwise, she's been up and around much more than I would be.

On Saturday I took the boys out for the day to entertain them (and me) and run errands. We were walking out of AutoZone when a guy in a baseball cap stopped me and asked if I was Miles' husband. I wracked my brain. I had been totally preoccupied and wasn't paying attention. Did he say, "Miles' husband, or my ex-husband?" I was caught off guard and rather than ask him to repeat the question, I said, "Nope" and continued to my car. Suddenly I was struck by a small glimmer of recognition in the dank and musty recesses of my cluttered mind. I thought maybe he looked vaguely familiar. Then Seth asks, "Did he say, 'Are you Mel's husband?'" Crap! I went running back into the store and sure enough, it was Harry. Sorry Harry. It was great to see you, and thanks for covering for Melisa.

That evening my Dad and family came by bearing gifts of cake and stimulating conversation. I know Mel appreciates all the visits. It's nice to have some bursts of human interaction when you've been wrapped in a medicated cocoon of darkness for most of the day.

Sunday the home care nurse came, checked Mel's vitals, and changed her bandages. She'll probably be having the drainage tubes removed this week, which will be nice. I imagine it's kind of confining having miles of tubes wrestling with you through the night. Speaking of wrestling, I took the kids out to the zoo and mall for a big part of the day. So I missed the visit from Amy, which I heard was a party. I'm not surprised and she didn't come empty handed. One of our walls is a kaleidoscope of the cards she brought. Mel is lucky to have such a neat variety of caring, compassionate people to work with. Thanks for coming by Amy.

Our house is layered in flowers and cards. It's kind of nice. Mel's mom has been a godsend, watching kids, cooking, doing laundry, keeping Melisa company. She leaves on Friday, but we already have people asking how they can help. Thanks for keeping in touch and checking in. I'll try not to be such a stranger but if you don't hear from me for a couple of days, you'll know sleepy time won.

p.s. I came home today to a FEAST! Thank you so much Tammy and fam. You're amazing. Not sure how you squeezed us in, between being taxi service and feeding the rest of the county. THESE chocolate chip cookies are MINE. :)



Thursday, September 13, 2007

September 13, 2007 - Home

This is going to be a quickie. I just wanted to let you know that we got home today around 7pm and Melisa is doing fantastic. Way better than I expected.

This morning we were kind of in limbo, hoping the doc would give the go-ahead for us to leave. Fortunately, as the agony of waiting was about to engulf and suffocate us, Dan and Arin stopped by! Thanks for taking the time from your crazy schedules and daily commitments to come see us, guys. It meant a lot and it's always nice to see a familiar face when you're in such a foreign environment. Plus the Peanut M&M's made me feel much better!

At around noon, Melisa noticed fluid dripping from her IV site. Not yummy. We called a nurse STAT (which she didn't appreciate, her name was Donna), and she promptly removed the IV from it's naughty location. We were in the "Going Home Today" mode, so rather than stick another IV in, we asked if Melisa could just start taking antibiotics orally. The doc gave two thumbs up on that proposal.

Freed from the chains of captivity, Melisa proceeded to run slow laps (very slow, more like slow walking) around the hallways. She was still in a lot of pain, but it was being better managed. The doc came by around a half past nap time. If' she'd come at four, she would have caught me with my mouth agape and drool slipping out the side. Anyway, she said Melisa was good to go and we proceeded to prepare for departure.

Mel currently has 6 tubes coming/going from her person. There is one tube going to each surgery site that delivers a constant measured dose of pain medication. There are also two tubes coming from each surgery site that deliver fluid to a pouch on either side of her. These little pouches need to be emptied of their fluid several times a day. That's my job. Those of you who know me, know that I've nearly fainted when giving blood. It's not the pain so much, or the blood. I think I just start thinking about the fact that there's a foreign object INSIDE ME sucking the juice out. Normally I am pretty squeamish around medical blood-and-guts type stuff anyway. But somehow my mind/body goes into survival mode and switches off the gag/barf/faint reflex when it needs to. Fortunately, that reflex is switched off and I was able to empty one of the pouches after minimal instruction. Yes. I can pour liquid into a cup. Save your applause.

After a few final instructions and a small tower of prescriptions, Melisa got dressed and we made our escape. When we got home, she rested on the couch and spent some time with her Mom, Charlie and the kids while I went to get the prescriptions filled. I got back and Mel was ready for bed, so we transferred her downstairs. She's moving around so well, needing only minimal assistance. As she was getting into bed, I asked if she was happy to be home. She gave a big, genuine smile, and said, "Yes." I'm glad they didn't send her home yesterday, but today she was ready. She's resting peacefully right now, and I'm content knowing the worst is over. Thank you for your prayers. They're obviously working!

This ended up not being a quickie. Sorry. The good news is you can stop reading whenever you want and it won't even offend me. Unless you tell me. Then I'll be ticked.

In hindsight, here's a small list of things not to do when caring for someone fresh out of surgery.

DON'T:
  • Forget the Insurance Card
  • Call "dibs" on the bed when the patient is in the bathroom
  • Eat a Garlic and Onion Ham Sandwich in the patient's room
  • Take a walk using the IV stand with rollers that don't rotate - it's a drag. Ha Ha. I crack me up.
  • Faint
  • Bug the hospital staff - they don't think you're funny.
  • Bring the Camaro to ride home in

I'm sure there's more. That was just off the top of my head. See you tomorrow. Probably.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

September 12, 2007 - Paper Cuts

I got a paper cut one time. Right on the end of my finger. All of a sudden everything I did involved using that finger. It was constantly in the way, burning, aching and throbbing. I was miserable and irritated that something so insignificant could have such a big impact on my daily life. Now, as I see what Melisa is dealing with, it makes the little things seem inconsequential. A lot of petty irritations that were affecting my life a week ago don't carry as much weight anymore.

My problems diminish in importance when I see how much it hurts my wife just to blink. She's dealing with things like taking 20 minutes to go to the bathroom (the bathroom is 5 feet away), which is something that would normally take 30 seconds. It is going to be a lengthy journey to recovery, but I can already see improvements.

This evening, bathroom trips are taking about 3 minutes with minimal walking assistance. Mel is getting past the 1000 mark on the little breathing doohickey thingamajigabobber (last night she was just barely past 0). She's down to pain pills every four hours instead of IV every two. She's much more alert when she's awake, and she seems in good spirits.

They are keeping her overnight again. Dr. Shulman is supposed to be back tomorrow around noon to see how she's doing and probably release her. I actually feel like tomorrow she'll be ready. She looks great and it's encouraging to see her in a good mood. Having the pain manageable has made a huge difference.

Claudia wrote us a neat email today. She pointed out that the worst is over. Melisa is cancer free! Now we can focus on healing, celebrating and moving on. I like that. Especially the celebrating part.

I'll talk to you later on. Probably after I get Melisa home tomorrow. In the mean time, thank you again. I'm staggered by the way you love us and are taking care of us. From our family, to our friends, to people I hardly know. It blows me away that even though you have your own challenges and lives to deal with, you're taking the time and making the effort to be a part of ours. I'm glad no one else is in the room right now and Melisa is sleeping, because it makes me cry just thinking about it. I don't know how else to tell you. Thank you.

September 12, 2007 - Helpless

It's hard to sit here, helpless, and look at someone you love who is so miserable. I wish I could fix it. Make the pain go away. Something. All I am is in the way. Nurses coming in and out, tripping over my feet. It feels like one of those little plastic puzzles. You know the ones with the sliding numbers from 1 to 15? You scramble the numbers and then try to put them back in order. That's what we're doing. We shuffle about the cramped room, trading places, trying not to trip over the myriad tubes and cables.

Last night, I finally got to see Melisa around 8:45. She had been in recovery for more than two hours. When I got to her room, she was in a lot of pain and pretty groggy. I spent about 45 minutes with her, made sure they gave her some more pain meds, and went home. Everyone was sound asleep, so I joined them.

Not to be a wimp, but 7:30 came early! Breakfast for kids, clothes on, hair brushed and we're out the door. Three kids, three different schools, but it's nice to be able to spend a little car time with them. I missed them last night. They all seem to be doing great. I think it will sink in more when mommy comes home. It's been such a relief for me having Elizabeth (Mel's mom) and Charlie staying with us for a week. Gives me the chance to be with Mel and not have to stress.

I got to the hospital around 9:30am. Melisa looks much better this morning, although she's still in a lot of pain. Her throat is very dry, so it's difficult for her to talk, but we've been able to chat a bit. Right now she's resting peacefully. Shelly just dropped by with a bushel of love and a bag full of magazines. You should have seen Mel's eyes light up! Thank you for coming, Shelly. She's received so many emails, blog notes, cards, prayers and phone calls in the last 24 hours. Thank you so much for caring about her and helping me take care of her.

I'm not sure yet if they'll keep her another night. I'll write more later on as soon as I know what's up.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

September 11, 2007 - Twin Towers

Before I start, I wanted to send props out to one of our good friends (I'm not going to mention any names, but it rhymes with JAMI). She made the observation that September 11 is the day the Twin Towers came down. What are the chances of that! Mel and I thought it was hilarious and appropriate to our situation, and wanted to share it with you. The difference between the Twin Towers in NYC and the ones here, is that these are being rebuilt! Thanks, Jami, for keeping us smiling through this!
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Today dawned cool and beautiful. The sky was clear and the humidity had all but disappeared - at least temporarily. There was no obvious sign that today was going to be life changing, momentous and tragic. It makes you wonder what kind of crap people deal with on a daily basis and no one knows about it. All the people we pass who are dealing with their own set of challenges, and there isn't even a storm or tornado to acknowledge it.

I was thinking about that on my way to pick Mel up from work this morning. She crammed in three patients on her way in to surgery. She's amazing. If it had been me, I would have milked the whole week getting "ready" for surgery, taking off as much time as possible. Not her. She's way more responsible than me. Anyway, it's been a blur of activity getting prepared for Mel to be off for a few weeks. The preparation has paid off, and this morning on our way to the hospital we were content in knowing things are in order.

We arrived at Memorial Hospital around 11:45 this morning. We checked in and were directed to floor 7. Mel got to be weighed and have her temp and B/P taken (LUCKY!), then we were discarded in room 4. It's too bad there is so much sitting around time. The longer you sit, the more time you have to dwell on the impending doom. And I forgot the gin cards. Shame on me. Mel was presented with some suggestive and well-cut-for-someone-else hospital gowns as well as a pair of booties and some knee-high stockings. I must confess, the knee-highs looked pretty hot. I may have to invest in a pair of those for her. Wait. Is that too personal?

The IV specialist came in, and after examining the lines on the back of Mel's right hand and checking the alignment of the stars, Mel was hooked up to an IV for antibiotics. The wheelchair arrived soon after and we were escorted through the hospital's labyrinth to the ultrasound area. As we were waiting at the next stop, I noticed Mel's temples and forehead looked kind of red. She said she was getting itchy. Turns out she was slightly allergic to the antibiotic! A dose of benadryl later, and she was relaxed and happy. They proceeded to inject some type of nuclear radioactive goop into the area of her suspect (slightly enlarged) lymph node so the doc would know what to look for during surgery. I was in the waiting room down the hall, watching some ridiculous "Athletes and Their Dogs" show. Good thing I had my book.

Once again, we found ourselves winding through the endless maze of hallways in the bowels of the hospital. After what seemed like thirty minutes, but was probably two, we emerged into the surgery staging area. Mel was transferred to a bed, and Dr. Shulman showed up. She marked where Dr. Poulin was supposed to cut, using what she called "artsy" lines. I guess that's as opposed to "engineery" lines. (Hers had shading.) A little bit later, Dr. Poulin came in to talk to us. He went over the procedure again and checked the lines Dr. Shulman had drawn. After he left, Mel was relaxed and catching some rest while I wrestled with the stupid dividing curtain. Every time someone opened the door, the curtain was all up in my business. I don't have a problem with intimacy, I just don't like unsolicited caressing. Especially by a curtain.

2:30p - The anesthesiologist and nurse came shortly after the doc left. They confirmed that Mel was who she said she was and proceeded to excuse me from the area. Before being banished, I gave Mel a quick squeeze and kiss and was promptly ushered out.

2:45p - Right now, I'm sitting in the surgery waiting room. It is much more comfortable than I expected. I grabbed a quick sandwich and I'm using one of their three internet stations.

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4:00p - Dr. Poulin just stopped in to tell me that the surgery went perfectly. Everything looks great and the lymph node is clear of any cancer! That was quick, about an hour. Dr. Shulman is now working her magic and should be done in a couple of hours.
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Ok. THAT was a surprise! I'm sitting here, typing, minding my own business, when a couple shows up acting like they know me. Actually, they do! Mark and Kem somehow took the time out of their crazy schedules to show up and keep me company while I waited for Mel to get out of surgery. Thanks guys for stopping by! The time goes a lot faster in good company.

While Mark and Kem were here, Dr. Shulman came in (6:15p) to tell us that surgery was done and Mel is in recovery. She said the surgery went great, and took some time explaining everything she did. If the pain is under control, Mel should be ready to go home tomorrow evening. They may keep her another night if necessary. I'm anxious to see her, but they said it will be about an hour and a half. (If you want technical information about everything done, you'll have to talk to Mel later on. That information waved bye-bye to me about 30 seconds after it left the doc's mouth.)

I am overwhelmed at the outpouring of love we've received from everyone. I've gotten about 15 calls today alone. You are amazing, and I can't tell you how much it means to me. Yes, this is a sucky situation. But it's been the best case scenario of a sucky situation. We're blessed that it was discovered so early, and fortunate that it never reached the stage where it was life-threatening.

I am hopeful, grateful and relieved.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Love/Help

Many of you have asked for suggestions for help we may need as a family after my impending surgery. In fact, we have already gotten several thoughtful cards and emails and tons of prayers. My work colleagues at Memorial Home Care put together a fantastic care package including activity sets for the kids and an ergonomically correct “bed desk” with books and magazines and sweets for me. Yes, I’m hogging the chocolate. And several friends have already juggled kid care during medical appointments and so I could get some housework done. My book club women are coordinating some family meals – super easy heat-and-eat. (Scott’s great at a lot of things, but still calls me to figure out how to boil water.)

All the out-pouring of help reminds me of the lessons of the 5 love languages. For those of you who don’t know, that’s the theory that there are 5 essential ways that people express (and in return feel) love. They are (1) Physical touch, (2) Words of affirmation, (3) Quality time, (4) Gifts (receiving), and (5) Acts of service. Everyone has a primary love language. Learning this revolutionized my marriage – but we still have trouble speaking each other’s language sometimes. Scott speaks – literally – words of affirmation. Which is pretty much like Greek or Egyptian to me. (You want me to say what? About that? Every day?! Ummmm… ok.) I relate better to acts of service – so anything someone else offers to do (so I don’t have to) is especially thoughtful and well received. (This is where doing dishes can become foreplay.)

Thus we get stuck in the “help” suggestion department. I want to take offers of any help, like meals and household chores, because that makes me feel really valued and loved. Scott feels this is silly and will make people think he can’t handle stuff on his own. Of course he can get groceries and water the plants and vacuum, dress, feed, bathe and drop off/pick up the three kids, bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan… But I don’t think he has to do it all for me to know he loves me and is in control.

So… I guess any ideas you all have will be great, and we’ll have to tell Scott a lot how awesome his is and what a great job he’s doing holding down the fort. Any comments on his blog are good too. He especially likes to know who has read it and what you think. I expect he'll post more interesting stuff soon. I hear they have free wifi at Memorial Hospital.

Thanks for all your help! One day till surgery….

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

September 4, 2007 - I'm Curious

Today was "Meet the Plastic Surgeon Day". During the weeks leading up to this appointment, I hadn't given it much thought. Just figured it would be a nice, informative meeting with the doc. What I wasn't prepared for was The Waiting Room. I'm reminded of the cafeteria in high school. Every eye upon you. "Please, Lord, don't let me trip and spray Wham Surprise* and Stripples** all over the Goddess in front of me."

Mel's appointment was at "1:50p". I say that with quotes, because I'm not sure why they even give you a time. You're going to spend the day there anyway, they should just tell you to come in the morning and they'll fit you in eventually. Pack a lunch! Bring the fam! Let's make a day of it! Sorry, I digress.

I entered The Waiting Room at approximately one thirty and change. Sure, every eye was on me, but I'm used to that. I sauntered over to the magazine rack, deftly thumbed through the Better Homes & Gardens and People, and settled on a more masculine Travel magazine. I chose a seat with some breathing room and proceeded to wait for Mel and try to read. I didn't realize how hard that would be.

Turns out, I'm curious. Why are these people here? The guy with the nose was a no-brainer, but there was also a man there with his teenage son. Across from me was a grandmother, mother and pre-teen son playing Nintendo. Next to them was a mother with her daughter, about my age (21 for future reference). We were all sitting there in The Waiting Room like a bowl of mixed nuts. Each one with their own shape and flavor. Whenever a new specimen arrived, we'd all gawk and wonder what they were in for.

Mel entered The Waiting Room around 1:40p and walked the gauntlet. She's so confident and focused, I don't think it even fazed her. On top of that, she had paperwork to do and probably didn't notice my inappropriate musings. At 2:15p we were finally ushered into the exam room. At 2:32 I made the idiotic comment, "Hey, if they wait 18 more minutes, it will have been an hour!" They waited 18 more minutes.

Dr. Shulman came in and gave a play by play of what to expect before, during and after surgery. I'm not terribly excited about the whole thing, and neither is Mel. Obviously it's necessary, important and life-saving. At the same time it's inconvenient, sucky and nerve-wracking. As the day of surgery gets closer, I can tell Mel is more and more anxious. I can't imagine the anticipation of something so invasive to look forward to. She's strong, and I know everything will turn out for the best, but I ache for her. I wish I could do it for her. But the doctor assures me that's impossible.

So, with one week to go, Melisa is working more than ever in preparation for the time off she needs to take. All three kids are starting school this week. My business is officially moved and opens tomorrow. And everything seems to be falling into place. God has a plan. I'm still trying to figure out what it is. But we're here for the ride and we'll see where it takes us. As we take the time to be still, and listen, we'll figure where that is and be better off for it.

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* Think beef gravy on toast, but weirder and yummier somehow.

** Fake bacon made out of ??

Friday, August 24, 2007

August 24, 2007 - We Pick You

Tonight Melisa and I spent the evening with some close friends. We had dinner together, which consisted of some Grandma's Kickin' Chicken (What's Up?), beans, and salad. It was delicious. Personally, I chased that down with some caffeine-free Coke. Yeah. That's how I roll. (Obviously I have a very discerning palate.) Desert was amazing. Carrot cake straight out of a magazine, and chocolate chip cookies that should have been all mine. But I shared them anyway.

I was reminded of how blessed we are. Between our caring family and devoted friends, we have an incredible support system. I've noticed that people who care about us won't take our crap and they frequently know what we need better than we do. I learned a great lesson tonight. If you want to stay comfortable and happy, make less friends. But if you want to be uncomfortable, stretched, and pushed to your full potential, surround yourself with friends. Real friends. The kind who aren't afraid of you. The kind who know you and love you anyway. The kind who will tell you to quit being a baby, put your pride aside and let them help you when you need it. Ouch, that hurts. (In a good way.)

We've been overwhelmed by your concern and compassion. We get at least one call or email a day from someone who is just checking in on us. Family. Friends. Acquaintances. Strangers. Ok, maybe that guy wasn't waving at me. The hug did feel a little awkward. But you've been amazing.
You've offered meals. You've offered childcare. You've offered financial support, tech support and emotional support. No strings attached. Just a full-on outpouring of you.

My pride's aside, and we need it. So, to all our family and friends: Thank you! If we had to pick, we'd pick you.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Normalcy

Mel's 2 cents...


So for the first month reading or discussing the details just made me nauseous - like for days. My mom thought I had morning sickness AGAIN. So not funny or possible. However, now I have almost three whole weeks without doctors' appointments or tests (I've had 13 since this all started) and it doesn't feel so personal and freaky. I've also been hesitant to describe things, because Scott is so great at it. Thank goodness he has been kind enough to keep people updated. He is such a talented and amusing writer. I still haven't read all the posts, but I am reminded by Scott's commitment and insightful descriptions how truly blessed I am.

Anyway, for the next two weeks I'm pretending nothing is really wrong. It's a return to the normal crazy pace of life: getting three kids ready for three different schools, working two jobs, juggling household chores, volunteering at church and trying to be supportive as Scott gets ready to move his business closer to home. Suddenly I love just being normal.

I guess that's what will keep me busy and distracted. With faith and the kindness and generosity of our wonderful family and friends, we'll get through to the other, healthier side...

more then.

Monday, August 20, 2007

August 20, 2007 - Ribbons


Ribbons. I've never been crazy about them. Sure, I like the ones you weave in your hair and the one tied around the old oak tree. I'm talking about the infestation of ribbons plastered all over our country. Vehicles, antennae, shirts, etc. etc. etc. I don't relate.

I've never been in a group that had a ribbon and I don't think of my car as a billboard for all things important. I don't have fuzzy dice. My honor student didn't beat up your honor student. And I don't have to Visualize Whirled Peas if I don't want to. When I feel strongly about something, I engage in conversation with someone. Someone who knows me. Or I post it on a blog so I can get it out of my system. You're welcome.

I guess I've always felt like the people exhibiting their ribbons were doing it for attention or a need to feel like they belonged to a worthy cause. I'm not one to wear my emotions on my sleeve, my antenna or my bumper. Like I said, I've never been in a group that had a ribbon. Until now.

Perspective is an interesting thing. I'm amazed how my strong opinions can be changed in a heart-beat. What I realize is that most people aren't decorating their lives with ribbons for the reasons I thought. It's more of a camaraderie thing. Just a little something to say, "Hey, I've been there. I feel your pain. If we were walking down the street, I'd high-five you and give you the secret ribbon handshake." It feels good to belong to a club. To know that we're in it together. Kind of like wearing a Cubs hat.

I haven't completely changed. I'm still not going to get a ticket speeding my way to the ribbon store. But at least now I understand. I feel the love. And it's good.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

August 15, 2007 - Tests

I know it seems like I've been slacking at regular updates for the last couple of days, but I have a good excuse - I didn't feel like it. Or my fingers were tired. I had to wash my hair? You know me, I'm such an emotional roller coaster. Actually I was kind of waiting to have some accurate info to post.

DISCLAIMER: I wasn't there. Shame on me. I was upset, too, because I love going to the doctor. Anyway, the following information is based solely on an interview with the Subject (Melisa, my wife. Please don't tell anyone I called her the Subject.) and is by no means to be taken as 100% fact. I tend to exaggerate, embellish, and otherwise destroy perfectly good information. This is strictly my interpretation of events that may or may not have happened. I wasn't there and can't prove them. If anything seems fictitious, it probably is. Or isn't. Who knows?

Last Monday (8/13), Melisa went to have the CAT Scan done. She was offered, and accepted with great anticipation, a 44 oz Big Gulp of red Kool-Aid with some delectable oral contrast sprinkled in. After about an hour they started her on an IV and took a couple of pictures. Then they spiced up the IV with some cocktail that makes your hands and head hot. As an added bonus, your privates get hot and it feels like you're peeing. (I've had that dream.) They took a couple more pictures and were done. Isaac, the Specialized Radiologist Tech who did the tests, went to school under Bob (Mel's Dad) while he was teaching PE at Andrews University (Berrien Springs, MI) in the 80's. It's one thing to pee in front of somebody. It's another thing to pee in front of someone who knows your Dad. Good thing she didn't actually pee.

On Tuesday (8/14), Mel met with Dr. Ansari, the Oncologist. It was a quickie appointment to discuss some of the recent tests he had ordered. He said the bone scan was normal. The CAT Scan was also normal except for one lymph node on her left side. He said it was normal and a comparable size to her other lymph nodes. However, the radiologist considered it suspicious because it is 1.1 cm (dilated and fully effaced - just kidding). The surgeon, Dr. Poulin, is going to be in that area anyway, so Dr. Ansari is going to have him take it out during surgery. Melisa is scheduled to go back to see Dr. Ansari in about a month.

Today was good times at Genetic Counseling. Much blood was taken. Family trees were rustled through. Information was permeating the air: Who had what diseases? How old were they when they were diagnosed with those diseases? How old were they when they died? Who let the dogs out? You know. Important stuff like that. I guess they're looking for mutations on the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes. No. I don't have a clue what that is and neither do you. Because if you do I guess we can't be friends anymore. I don't need the grief of you thinking you're better than me now, plus I don't like hanging with people who speak Acronym. Anyway, the chances of her having these mutations are between 10% and 15%. People who are positive have increased likelihood of ovarian cancer. Ultimately, these tests provide a risk analysis for ovarian cancer and information on what direct family members need to be checked for. The results of the tests are pending, and I'll keep you posted.

This afternoon the offices of Dr. Shulman and Dr. Poulin called to schedule surgery. We're on for the afternoon of Sept. 11. Until then there are some more blood tests scheduled, but otherwise a bit of calm before the storm.

Thank you for all your emails, calls, comments and messages. I've had several people tell me they didn't know what to say. Really, there's not much too say. Other than THAT SUCKS! But just knowing you care and are there for her makes all the difference. I tell her, "I'm sorry" and "I love you." That seems to ease the pain a little. If for some reason you can't be more creative, you're welcome to steal my lines.

On that note, have a great day and I'll keep you posted as soon as I feel like it again.