Hi Everyone:
It’s been one year today since I received the call from the physician telling me I had tested positive for breast cancer. I hate that guy. As I sit here to update you on my progress I am reflecting on the past year with a multitude of feelings. Relief is one, I’m relieved that I survived the illness and the process, anger that I got breast cancer in the first place, sadness for my loss and resolve. Resolve that I am done with this disease forever.
It’s been quite a year, and again I thank you all for being by my side and supporting me through what was the crummiest year of my life. On one hand I can’t believe that it’s been a year already and on the other hand I can’t wait for 5 more to pass to put this experience further behind me. Some of the events are so fresh in my memory and others are a complete blur. I’m going to chalk those up to the pain killers. I’m torn. I don’t know if I want to remember so clearly how I felt during the process or if I want my brain to protect me and block out the memories. Maybe something in between?
Even though I’ve been given the clean bill of health, I still battle on. The last three months have been particularly difficult. In July I was so excited to get the remission news and congratulations from everyone, that I really didn’t look any further than that. To hear that I was not sick any more was the best news any one could have ever given me. But after the news had worn off and life was back to normal, I realized that there was still this aftermath to deal with. Every time I looked in the mirror I was reminded that I was a breast cancer patient and no words and no passing time was ever going to change that. I still have to take the “cancer be gone” pills and I still have to look at these scars every day. No one ever talks about that part.
I realized that no matter how much time passed by that I will never be able to get away from the breast cancer. Most of you can walk away any time you want and never have to give a second thought to breast cancer. It does not have to affect you at all if you don’t want it to. How lucky that makes you. I honestly hope this is the closest you ever get to it. I don’t have that luxury, I do have to live with it. Over the last three months I have been trying to come to grips with that and change my attitude on how I feel about it.
Today I look at the scars and see life’s battle wounds, I’ve got plenty of those. Some that you see and others that you don’t. Don’t we all? I’ve realized that I am still the same person that I was before the cancer, I just have a new and unique experience under my belt because of it. I am still working on healing completely from the breast cancer, physically and emotionally, and I expect that it will take much longer than my patience will allow. I still have a long way to go with the reconstructive surgery too. I’ve run into a bit of a road block. As you know, I’ve had my implants in for just under 6 months, and they’re doing great. The rest, well, not so much.
In August I had the next step in reconstructive surgery done, nipple reconstruction. The right one turned out great, the left one…fell off. Yup, the damn thing fell off just like a baby’s umbilical cord. Gone. Now I can find a lot of humor in that, I mean let’s face it, it is funny. How many people can say that their left nipple fell off? I don’t imagine that number to be too high. I’m also very frustrated and sad that it fell off. Mostly because I don’t want to go through the surgery again and I don’t want to have to wait another 6 months before I can do it.
The surgery kind of freaked me out. I was awake during the procedure, which lasted about an hour. Even though I could not feel the surgery itself, I could feel the tugging of my skin and I could hear the cutting of my skin. Not a big fan of either of those things. Thank God J.R. was there with me, holding my hand and keeping me calm. If he wasn’t there I think the Dr. would have had to peel me off the ceiling. They really need to set up a wet bar in surgery or pass out Valium at the door. I guarantee I will be heavily medicated with something during the next procedure. Bacardi, Valium, paint thinner, what ever it takes.
So now I wait for another 6 months for my skin to heal and to be evaluated for another procedure. I can’t have the tattooing done until this part is complete, so that gets pushed until late next year. In the meantime, it’s been suggested that I get my one nipple a prosthetic friend. I’ll let that one sink in. I swear to God they actually have a store that sells stick on nipples. And from what I hear, it’s not just breast cancer patients that use these things. I’ve not been to the store yet, but curiosity will get the better of me and I will go check them out. The jokes are just writing themselves aren’t they?
Some good news now, my hair is coming in quite well. It’s very interesting actually. It’s gotten curly, especially in the back. The rest of it is wavy and as nice as those two things sound, when your hair is only 3 inches long, it poses sort of a problem. I’ve been using a good bit of gel to keep it calmed down, otherwise it gets all puffed up and square and I look like a cross between Frankenstein and Ronald McDonald. I really wish I was kidding about that. When I wake up in the morning one side sticks up higher than the other and I have that Gumby thing going. Six months from now when my hair is twice as long I think I will look like Annie or Leo Sayer, not sure which but in either case I’ll have to take up singing for a while. I should probably learn the words to “The sun will come out tomorrow”.
I just had my next 3 month follow up with a bone scan, chest x-ray and blood test and everything came back negative, so that’s great news. I expect to hear those words each time I go to the oncologist. Something I am experiencing though is heart palpitations. They started right after I finished chemo. If you remember, the chemo was administered through a port which was tapped into a vein that lead to my heart, from there my heart pumped the chemo into my body. Typically there is some damage to the heart during the chemo process which is why you get a heart test before and during chemo to track any change. My oncologist is adding a cardiologist to the staff so the next round of tests will more than likely include some barrage of heart tests.
As if the chemo hadn’t caused enough problems for me, another long term side effect no one ever talks about is a change in eye sight. That’s right, chemo changes your vision. For me it changed my ability to read any thing closer than the end of my drive way. I had my eyes checked three months before my diagnosis and was fine. I had my eyes rechecked last month and now require reading glasses. Terrific. The change to my vision in one year was so drastic the Dr. was amazed. Now if I could just find one of those chains for around my neck, the transformation to middle age would be complete.
And so life goes on. I’m pretty tickled to still be among the living. Today is my milestone. Today marks the day that I am done with cancer. I’ve given one year of my undivided time and attention to it, and quite frankly that’s all that it’s going to get from me. I know I still have follow up appointments and surgeries to deal with but I’m done letting this define my life. I’d like to go back to being just Jen again, wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend and employee. I’m done with being a patient.
So as the day goes on, I will remove the lovely gifts that you’ve all sent me from my home and car and place them in my cancer box with all of the letters, cards, e-mails, breast cancer pamphlets, my journal and test results that have been my life for the last year. I will place it in the attic where I’m sure some day I will want to reopen that box and revisit the experience. But for now, I’m done.
Tonight we will be having a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant (Forepaugh’s of course) to acknowledge the end of a battle and to celebrate Steph’s 20th birthday. Unfortunately she will always have to share her favorite day with one of my crummiest. So thank you all again for your love and support, I really do appreciate it. This will most likely be my last blog entry; unless something really significant or funny happens. I wish you all well and hope that you are having a great day!
Love to you all,
Jen
It’s been one year today since I received the call from the physician telling me I had tested positive for breast cancer. I hate that guy. As I sit here to update you on my progress I am reflecting on the past year with a multitude of feelings. Relief is one, I’m relieved that I survived the illness and the process, anger that I got breast cancer in the first place, sadness for my loss and resolve. Resolve that I am done with this disease forever.
It’s been quite a year, and again I thank you all for being by my side and supporting me through what was the crummiest year of my life. On one hand I can’t believe that it’s been a year already and on the other hand I can’t wait for 5 more to pass to put this experience further behind me. Some of the events are so fresh in my memory and others are a complete blur. I’m going to chalk those up to the pain killers. I’m torn. I don’t know if I want to remember so clearly how I felt during the process or if I want my brain to protect me and block out the memories. Maybe something in between?
Even though I’ve been given the clean bill of health, I still battle on. The last three months have been particularly difficult. In July I was so excited to get the remission news and congratulations from everyone, that I really didn’t look any further than that. To hear that I was not sick any more was the best news any one could have ever given me. But after the news had worn off and life was back to normal, I realized that there was still this aftermath to deal with. Every time I looked in the mirror I was reminded that I was a breast cancer patient and no words and no passing time was ever going to change that. I still have to take the “cancer be gone” pills and I still have to look at these scars every day. No one ever talks about that part.
I realized that no matter how much time passed by that I will never be able to get away from the breast cancer. Most of you can walk away any time you want and never have to give a second thought to breast cancer. It does not have to affect you at all if you don’t want it to. How lucky that makes you. I honestly hope this is the closest you ever get to it. I don’t have that luxury, I do have to live with it. Over the last three months I have been trying to come to grips with that and change my attitude on how I feel about it.
Today I look at the scars and see life’s battle wounds, I’ve got plenty of those. Some that you see and others that you don’t. Don’t we all? I’ve realized that I am still the same person that I was before the cancer, I just have a new and unique experience under my belt because of it. I am still working on healing completely from the breast cancer, physically and emotionally, and I expect that it will take much longer than my patience will allow. I still have a long way to go with the reconstructive surgery too. I’ve run into a bit of a road block. As you know, I’ve had my implants in for just under 6 months, and they’re doing great. The rest, well, not so much.
In August I had the next step in reconstructive surgery done, nipple reconstruction. The right one turned out great, the left one…fell off. Yup, the damn thing fell off just like a baby’s umbilical cord. Gone. Now I can find a lot of humor in that, I mean let’s face it, it is funny. How many people can say that their left nipple fell off? I don’t imagine that number to be too high. I’m also very frustrated and sad that it fell off. Mostly because I don’t want to go through the surgery again and I don’t want to have to wait another 6 months before I can do it.
The surgery kind of freaked me out. I was awake during the procedure, which lasted about an hour. Even though I could not feel the surgery itself, I could feel the tugging of my skin and I could hear the cutting of my skin. Not a big fan of either of those things. Thank God J.R. was there with me, holding my hand and keeping me calm. If he wasn’t there I think the Dr. would have had to peel me off the ceiling. They really need to set up a wet bar in surgery or pass out Valium at the door. I guarantee I will be heavily medicated with something during the next procedure. Bacardi, Valium, paint thinner, what ever it takes.
So now I wait for another 6 months for my skin to heal and to be evaluated for another procedure. I can’t have the tattooing done until this part is complete, so that gets pushed until late next year. In the meantime, it’s been suggested that I get my one nipple a prosthetic friend. I’ll let that one sink in. I swear to God they actually have a store that sells stick on nipples. And from what I hear, it’s not just breast cancer patients that use these things. I’ve not been to the store yet, but curiosity will get the better of me and I will go check them out. The jokes are just writing themselves aren’t they?
Some good news now, my hair is coming in quite well. It’s very interesting actually. It’s gotten curly, especially in the back. The rest of it is wavy and as nice as those two things sound, when your hair is only 3 inches long, it poses sort of a problem. I’ve been using a good bit of gel to keep it calmed down, otherwise it gets all puffed up and square and I look like a cross between Frankenstein and Ronald McDonald. I really wish I was kidding about that. When I wake up in the morning one side sticks up higher than the other and I have that Gumby thing going. Six months from now when my hair is twice as long I think I will look like Annie or Leo Sayer, not sure which but in either case I’ll have to take up singing for a while. I should probably learn the words to “The sun will come out tomorrow”.
I just had my next 3 month follow up with a bone scan, chest x-ray and blood test and everything came back negative, so that’s great news. I expect to hear those words each time I go to the oncologist. Something I am experiencing though is heart palpitations. They started right after I finished chemo. If you remember, the chemo was administered through a port which was tapped into a vein that lead to my heart, from there my heart pumped the chemo into my body. Typically there is some damage to the heart during the chemo process which is why you get a heart test before and during chemo to track any change. My oncologist is adding a cardiologist to the staff so the next round of tests will more than likely include some barrage of heart tests.
As if the chemo hadn’t caused enough problems for me, another long term side effect no one ever talks about is a change in eye sight. That’s right, chemo changes your vision. For me it changed my ability to read any thing closer than the end of my drive way. I had my eyes checked three months before my diagnosis and was fine. I had my eyes rechecked last month and now require reading glasses. Terrific. The change to my vision in one year was so drastic the Dr. was amazed. Now if I could just find one of those chains for around my neck, the transformation to middle age would be complete.
And so life goes on. I’m pretty tickled to still be among the living. Today is my milestone. Today marks the day that I am done with cancer. I’ve given one year of my undivided time and attention to it, and quite frankly that’s all that it’s going to get from me. I know I still have follow up appointments and surgeries to deal with but I’m done letting this define my life. I’d like to go back to being just Jen again, wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend and employee. I’m done with being a patient.
So as the day goes on, I will remove the lovely gifts that you’ve all sent me from my home and car and place them in my cancer box with all of the letters, cards, e-mails, breast cancer pamphlets, my journal and test results that have been my life for the last year. I will place it in the attic where I’m sure some day I will want to reopen that box and revisit the experience. But for now, I’m done.
Tonight we will be having a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant (Forepaugh’s of course) to acknowledge the end of a battle and to celebrate Steph’s 20th birthday. Unfortunately she will always have to share her favorite day with one of my crummiest. So thank you all again for your love and support, I really do appreciate it. This will most likely be my last blog entry; unless something really significant or funny happens. I wish you all well and hope that you are having a great day!
Love to you all,
Jen
5 comments:
Here's to the last entry....I'm glad you're packing up the cancer momentos. On with life.
Thinking of you! Kari
Jen,
I can't believe that it has been a year! That's easy for me to say. Although this has been the toughest year of your life, I think you are a truly remarkable women. Not only for going through what you went through, but for taking us with you on this journey that you were forced to take. I wish you a healthy 2008.
Hi Jen:
My husband,John, works with your friend Julie Koch. I read your blog after I was diagnosed in June and you were an inspiration to me. Thank you for that. I didn't have the chemo or radiation, but I did have the bilateral mastec. w/ tissue expander reconstruction July 31st. I get my implant exchange Nov. 6th & can hardly wait!!! Anyway, thank you for your idea about the cancer box!! I will plan to put all my cancer memories in a box just like that when this is done for me!! Best wishes for your continued good health!
Kate Finch
Hey Jen,
Thank you for this blog and for sharing your experience with those of us who have also been through it and for those in the future because I will be recommending this blog to all I know in the cancer world so that it can continue to inspire all of us to keep going strong with a very large chunk of humor along the way. Thanks again from all of us survivors
Post a Comment