Any New Year's resolutions this year? I have come up with a good one for myself. Every year I have said: "This will be my year." Every year seems to get worse. So this year, my NY Affirmation is this: I can't control a thing that happens, but I can control how I handle it. So my resolution is to get my shit together, basically:
I will be sad when somebody gets pregnant, but I will remind myself that I wouldn't trade my life for theirs.
I will be sad if IVF doesn't work, but will remind myself that I'm moving forward. And regardless of the outcome, I am not doing this for nothing.
I'm going to take care of myself.
I'm going to try to forgive all the insensitive, ignorant people around me. It's not their fault they're not infertile too.
I will remind myself that The Hubby internalizes all this very differently than I do. I will not be mad at him when he doesn't join me in my sorrow.
I will not wallow in sorrow. Being sad is one thing, but no more weeks on the couch crying over this mess.
I'm throwing away my Victim Status and I'm going to kick some ass in 2008.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
The Pioneer
I met a woman in the bathroom at J’s company Christmas party not long ago. I was standing there washing my hands and I heard this lady at the vanity beside me sniffling and grasping for tissues off the counter. She had her back to me so I couldn’t tell if she was crying. I asked her if she was ok and she responded with the candor that you can only find in the ladies room after a couple glasses of wine: “Oh, I’m fine, I’m going through chemo and it makes my nose water.” She was almost laughing at herself, which took me by surprise. I mean shit, I can’t even get through infertility without tearing down the walls around me - and this lady is laughing over chemo. Before she even started her next sentence I had decided this woman was my new hero.
Without any prompting she started telling me her story – she had been battling colon cancer for years. When they found it the doctors told her she only had a few months to live, but she beat it into remission. In fact she spent several years toting her “Cancer Free” declaration. But it came back. And she said this was her last round of chemo – she wasn’t doing it again. And the cancer didn’t seem to be going away. She said she had heard about some experimental cancer trials going on at Johns Hopkins and she was trying to get enrolled in them.
Somewhere in the conversation I told her about my upcoming breast surgery. How scared I was. I told her about all the hormones I took for IVF and even though I thought I was ok, I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t created the perfect storm in my body for cancer.
We probably talked for 20 minutes in the restroom. I can’t begin to describe how incredibly wonderful this woman was. How sympathetic, how outright, how bold, how calm, how courageous. How comforting.
I have zero religious belief in me, but I’ll admit there was a split second when we walked out of the restroom that I expected her to disappear – perhaps my guardian angel arrived right as I needed her? It seemed too coincidental to be true.
But she didn’t disappear. She met her husband at their table and 5 minutes later I glanced over to see this woman breaking bad on the dance floor. My fucking hero.
I thought about her a lot after the party. I wondered how she was doing – but I had no idea how to get in touch with her.
I didn’t have to. About a week after my lumpectomy – she found me. J called me from work and said he had just gotten back from lunch and had this bizarre cryptic message left on his voicemail from some guy at work that he’s never even met saying his wife met me at the Christmas party and wanted to see how my surgery went. He had left her number. So I called her back.
She was on the phone with a doctor at Johns Hopkins when I called. I offered to call her back, but she told me to hang on. A few minutes later she was on the phone. Chemo had officially failed and she was in the midst of trying to get approved for the Johns Hopkins study.
They claim to have a possible “cure” for cancer. But this is in no means just popping a pill and waving a wand over you. The “cure” was discovered by accident. A few years ago a man came into the hospital with a very large cancerous tumor. However, he came in for something different – liver failure. During the course of treating him for liver problems, he contracted some strain of strep and died. When they did the autopsy they discovered that this form of strep had completely destroyed the cancerous tumor. It was completely gone.
So after loads of research, they took this strep bacteria, stripped it of the pieces that are deadly and injected it into the cancerous tumor of a 78 year old man who volunteered to be a guinea pig knowing he was about to die anyway. He died a few weeks later – but not from cancer. He provided them with a huge amount of knowledge about how this bacteria works – how it kills the cancer, but the treatment got the best of him.
My friend from the restroom has volunteered to be the next in line for this experiment. And let me add that she has not only volunteered, she is doing so with the utmost enthusiasm. She is excited about a treatment that she may very well die from.
As I type, she is going through preliminary tests that will decide if she is qualified for this experiment. And her biggest fear is that she won’t. She is scared because (in her words) if she is going to die anyway – she wants to go out knowing that she has provided doctors and researchers answers that might keep somebody else from going through her same ordeal.
She wants to be a pioneer in the medical field. She wants to be the one that kicks cancer’s ass. She wants to be the one that saves lives. She wants to be the hero. She wants to move forward instead of waiting for the next bad thing to happen to her.
And she is. She’s already a pioneer – she’s conquering life’s hardest obstacles with enthusiasm and courage and a beautiful positive spirit. She’s also a hero. And I know just from the short time I spent around her, there’s no way this woman is just my hero.
Without any prompting she started telling me her story – she had been battling colon cancer for years. When they found it the doctors told her she only had a few months to live, but she beat it into remission. In fact she spent several years toting her “Cancer Free” declaration. But it came back. And she said this was her last round of chemo – she wasn’t doing it again. And the cancer didn’t seem to be going away. She said she had heard about some experimental cancer trials going on at Johns Hopkins and she was trying to get enrolled in them.
Somewhere in the conversation I told her about my upcoming breast surgery. How scared I was. I told her about all the hormones I took for IVF and even though I thought I was ok, I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t created the perfect storm in my body for cancer.
We probably talked for 20 minutes in the restroom. I can’t begin to describe how incredibly wonderful this woman was. How sympathetic, how outright, how bold, how calm, how courageous. How comforting.
I have zero religious belief in me, but I’ll admit there was a split second when we walked out of the restroom that I expected her to disappear – perhaps my guardian angel arrived right as I needed her? It seemed too coincidental to be true.
But she didn’t disappear. She met her husband at their table and 5 minutes later I glanced over to see this woman breaking bad on the dance floor. My fucking hero.
I thought about her a lot after the party. I wondered how she was doing – but I had no idea how to get in touch with her.
I didn’t have to. About a week after my lumpectomy – she found me. J called me from work and said he had just gotten back from lunch and had this bizarre cryptic message left on his voicemail from some guy at work that he’s never even met saying his wife met me at the Christmas party and wanted to see how my surgery went. He had left her number. So I called her back.
She was on the phone with a doctor at Johns Hopkins when I called. I offered to call her back, but she told me to hang on. A few minutes later she was on the phone. Chemo had officially failed and she was in the midst of trying to get approved for the Johns Hopkins study.
They claim to have a possible “cure” for cancer. But this is in no means just popping a pill and waving a wand over you. The “cure” was discovered by accident. A few years ago a man came into the hospital with a very large cancerous tumor. However, he came in for something different – liver failure. During the course of treating him for liver problems, he contracted some strain of strep and died. When they did the autopsy they discovered that this form of strep had completely destroyed the cancerous tumor. It was completely gone.
So after loads of research, they took this strep bacteria, stripped it of the pieces that are deadly and injected it into the cancerous tumor of a 78 year old man who volunteered to be a guinea pig knowing he was about to die anyway. He died a few weeks later – but not from cancer. He provided them with a huge amount of knowledge about how this bacteria works – how it kills the cancer, but the treatment got the best of him.
My friend from the restroom has volunteered to be the next in line for this experiment. And let me add that she has not only volunteered, she is doing so with the utmost enthusiasm. She is excited about a treatment that she may very well die from.
As I type, she is going through preliminary tests that will decide if she is qualified for this experiment. And her biggest fear is that she won’t. She is scared because (in her words) if she is going to die anyway – she wants to go out knowing that she has provided doctors and researchers answers that might keep somebody else from going through her same ordeal.
She wants to be a pioneer in the medical field. She wants to be the one that kicks cancer’s ass. She wants to be the one that saves lives. She wants to be the hero. She wants to move forward instead of waiting for the next bad thing to happen to her.
And she is. She’s already a pioneer – she’s conquering life’s hardest obstacles with enthusiasm and courage and a beautiful positive spirit. She’s also a hero. And I know just from the short time I spent around her, there’s no way this woman is just my hero.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Pathology report just came back...
...and no cancer cells were found. So relieved!
We're going out for a celebritory dinner tomorrow night (still a bit under the weather tonight).
NOW I can start getting excited about NCIVF.
Alright - off to thank my Lucky Stars.
We're going out for a celebritory dinner tomorrow night (still a bit under the weather tonight).
NOW I can start getting excited about NCIVF.
Alright - off to thank my Lucky Stars.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Greetings from Percocet Land!
My surgery went really well. The doc thought the tumor was about the size of a grape - they ended up pulling something out of me the size of a golf ball. Ga-rooossss!
It'll be about a week for the pathology report to come back, but the doctor said he really doesn't think it's anything to worry about - he said it looked like a "fibrous mass gone crazy". Gotta love those hormones.
As far as scarring goes - he made the incision right along the edge of the aerola, so once it heals, it shouldn't even be visible. And even though he pulled out such a huge hunk of mess, there was very, very little puckering (and really I can't see it in the mirror, only when I look down at it...and the dr said he expected even that to fill out eventually). I was shocked at how "normal" it looked.
My other concern was breastfeeding. The incision starts at around 12:00 and goes to 6:00 - it wasn't supposed to be that big, until he realized how big the tumor was. So basically I've lost half of my milk ducts on the left side. But he said that it should still work from one side when the time comes, just won't produce as much.
The really weird part of the whole thing - yesterday when I woke up I kept having this shooting pain right in between my breasts (no where near the incision). Dr said it was probably some nerve damage. I had absolutely no feeling in my left breast. So all the parts that should've hurt felt nothing. Instead I was having stabbing sensations in my chest and my left arm is sore as hell (like I had slept on it all night). It was kind of hilarious (well, I was laughing at everything on the drugs).
As of this afternoon I have gotten back most of the feeling (which means I've had a lot more percocet today!), but relieved that I will have sensation once it's healed.
I was a total nervous wreck going into the surgery. I lost it when I was filling out the registration form and right under my name was written: "Left Breast Lumpectomy". Freaked me out. But I can't even begin to describe how wonderful this doctor was - and all his staff. Quickest, most painless IV I've ever had - and I've had a lot lately. I think IV-insertion is my new way of ranking doctors. :) Everybody was so comforting. I woke up in recovery with a lady shoving ice chips in my mouth (god love her). The doctor probably spent 20 minutes just talking to us and answering questions before they even hooked me up to anything. Everbody was so patient and caring. These people are getting a thank you letter from me. For such a scary experience I felt very safe.
And my incredible husband has waited on me hand and foot since I got home. He had to go into work a few hours this morning for meeting he couldn't miss, so he called in one of my girlfriends to sit with me for a few hours (percocet and lots of stairs don't mix). He even did a load of laundry this morning just so I'd have my most comfortable bra to wear. What a good man he is.
The only stitches I have are internal - they'll dissolve. The incision is held together with surgical glue and then something on top of that that kind of looks like cloth-tape stuff. That stays on until I see the doc again (sometime next week), then they take it off.
The doc is a bit concerned about the timing of our Belize trip. He said the "out of the woods" for infection date is about 3 weeks. We leave for Belize in 2. I won't be allowed to go swimming (anything wetter than a shower is out). Which is a bummer, because I was signed up for scuba diving (was going to be my first time!). Oh well. He said he was just worried about medical care in a foreign country in case something should happen. But I'll take my chances...I need Belize after all this.
So glad to have all this mess over with. Getting excited about our NCIVF consultation next month.
Happy Holidays to all.
It'll be about a week for the pathology report to come back, but the doctor said he really doesn't think it's anything to worry about - he said it looked like a "fibrous mass gone crazy". Gotta love those hormones.
As far as scarring goes - he made the incision right along the edge of the aerola, so once it heals, it shouldn't even be visible. And even though he pulled out such a huge hunk of mess, there was very, very little puckering (and really I can't see it in the mirror, only when I look down at it...and the dr said he expected even that to fill out eventually). I was shocked at how "normal" it looked.
My other concern was breastfeeding. The incision starts at around 12:00 and goes to 6:00 - it wasn't supposed to be that big, until he realized how big the tumor was. So basically I've lost half of my milk ducts on the left side. But he said that it should still work from one side when the time comes, just won't produce as much.
The really weird part of the whole thing - yesterday when I woke up I kept having this shooting pain right in between my breasts (no where near the incision). Dr said it was probably some nerve damage. I had absolutely no feeling in my left breast. So all the parts that should've hurt felt nothing. Instead I was having stabbing sensations in my chest and my left arm is sore as hell (like I had slept on it all night). It was kind of hilarious (well, I was laughing at everything on the drugs).
As of this afternoon I have gotten back most of the feeling (which means I've had a lot more percocet today!), but relieved that I will have sensation once it's healed.
I was a total nervous wreck going into the surgery. I lost it when I was filling out the registration form and right under my name was written: "Left Breast Lumpectomy". Freaked me out. But I can't even begin to describe how wonderful this doctor was - and all his staff. Quickest, most painless IV I've ever had - and I've had a lot lately. I think IV-insertion is my new way of ranking doctors. :) Everybody was so comforting. I woke up in recovery with a lady shoving ice chips in my mouth (god love her). The doctor probably spent 20 minutes just talking to us and answering questions before they even hooked me up to anything. Everbody was so patient and caring. These people are getting a thank you letter from me. For such a scary experience I felt very safe.
And my incredible husband has waited on me hand and foot since I got home. He had to go into work a few hours this morning for meeting he couldn't miss, so he called in one of my girlfriends to sit with me for a few hours (percocet and lots of stairs don't mix). He even did a load of laundry this morning just so I'd have my most comfortable bra to wear. What a good man he is.
The only stitches I have are internal - they'll dissolve. The incision is held together with surgical glue and then something on top of that that kind of looks like cloth-tape stuff. That stays on until I see the doc again (sometime next week), then they take it off.
The doc is a bit concerned about the timing of our Belize trip. He said the "out of the woods" for infection date is about 3 weeks. We leave for Belize in 2. I won't be allowed to go swimming (anything wetter than a shower is out). Which is a bummer, because I was signed up for scuba diving (was going to be my first time!). Oh well. He said he was just worried about medical care in a foreign country in case something should happen. But I'll take my chances...I need Belize after all this.
So glad to have all this mess over with. Getting excited about our NCIVF consultation next month.
Happy Holidays to all.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tomorrow
...is the day. I'm strangely, not nervous. The calm before the storm, I suppose. J's been traveling for work - he comes home tonight and I made him promise to take me to the movies. No better distraction than that.
In other news, Aunt Flo showed up today, that evil bitch is kicking my ass right now. That aside, I was supposed to start charting a new basal body temp chart today and I completely forgot. I mean it's been 4+ years...I'm a bit out of the habit. I was hoping to have it to take with me when we go for our consultation next month. It's probably not a big deal that I missed today, but it will most likely be thrown off by tomorrow's surgery and the painkillers for the next few days...my lack of sleep for the next week while I'm uncomfortable as hell. Then it's off to Belize (like I'll remember to do it there). Hmmm...screw the damn BBT...this is a bad rep month....I've got enough to contend with.
Bring on the pain killers.
In other news, Aunt Flo showed up today, that evil bitch is kicking my ass right now. That aside, I was supposed to start charting a new basal body temp chart today and I completely forgot. I mean it's been 4+ years...I'm a bit out of the habit. I was hoping to have it to take with me when we go for our consultation next month. It's probably not a big deal that I missed today, but it will most likely be thrown off by tomorrow's surgery and the painkillers for the next few days...my lack of sleep for the next week while I'm uncomfortable as hell. Then it's off to Belize (like I'll remember to do it there). Hmmm...screw the damn BBT...this is a bad rep month....I've got enough to contend with.
Bring on the pain killers.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Jittery, skittery...
Less than a week left before my surgery. I’m getting really nervous. Today has been particularly hard. J leaves on Monday morning to travel for work – he’ll be gone Monday – Wednesday. My surgery is Thursday. This weekend we’re traveling out of town to visit my grandmother. I have a hundred things to do between now and next Thursday:
* Christmas shopping. I haven’t done any. I will probably be too sore after surgery to do any. Christmas with my fam is Dec. 22nd. Crap. As I mentioned before I have decided not to tell any of my fam about surgery…so somehow I’m going to have to hide this. Let’s see, breast surgery + seeing family for the holidays = lots of very painful hugs.
* My brother is coming in from CA, the day after my surgery, so I have to fit in seeing them. Them and their stupid fertile abili-ties.
* Immediately after Christmas, we leave for Belize. There’s no way I’ll be recovered enough for a bikini, so I’m not even packing one. The airport we’re flying out of is 4 hours away – so we still have to figure out logistics for that trip.
* We have yet to get a Christmas tree. We’re supposed to fit that in tonight before we get together with some friends for dinner. I have no idea when / if it will be decorated. In fact, I’m much less enthused to decorate it now that I’ve learned my in-laws will no longer be staying with us for the holidays:
* My mother-in-law (in attempt to try to make things easier on us) suggested we stay with them xmas eve, that way we don’t have to buy food right before we leave for vacation. Ha – like I was going to cook. Isn’t Papa John’s open on Christmas Eve? Very sweet of her, really. But with all the running around we’ve been doing (and lots more to come). Not to mention my complete lack of time/space to heal from impending surgery, I was really looking forward to sitting on my ass, on my couch, sipping my own very spiked eggnog. Now we’ll be living out of a suitcase, driving, hauling the dog around, and well, NOT sitting on my ass on my couch.
* Monday I have my blood work at the lab. Call me a wimp, but I get so nervous about having blood taken I could throw up. I can almost handle the surgery better– at least I’m asleep for that.
* Speaking of “handling the surgery” – did I mention I’m a nervous wreck? No? Oh. Well, I am. I want to jump in my canoe, ship off to sea and resurface in 5 years with amnesia. J, how does Panama sound to you? The drive to the hospital next Thursday is going to suck. I can see me grabbing the wheel out of J’s hands and trying to flip a U.
* Boobs. What is it with boobs and why are they so important? I’m not a vain person unless I’m having a particularly good hair day – so why am I spending 99% of my day freaking the fuck out over how I’ll look after this is over? Hell, our sex life has already taken quite the beating over it. Just the thought of what’s to come – and the huge mass of crap in me is enough to make me not want to be touched right now. How the hell am I going to feel when I come home beaten, bruised, stitched, carved and ultimately – scarred? My girls are in their prime for god’s sakes. There are topless beaches I have yet to conquer.
* The Big C: Why in god’s name am I freaking out over my boobs when there’s a much bigger and obvious threat hanging in front of me?
* The Two Week Wait. Hey, remember all those posts of me bitching about the 2 week wait after IVF to see if you’re pregnant? Ahhh, those were good times. From everything I’ve read (again, I was too deer-in-the-headlights to ask my doctor questions), it’s a 2 week wait after surgery to get test results back. The (new) Two Week Wait – damn the irony.
* The Six Week Wait. Honestly, I found the lump on Halloween. Can we just get it the fuck out of me already? It’s the second week of December for God’s sakes. Put me out of my misery.
* Whole Mess of Crap. I’ll just leave this little asterisk for all the other mess of gunk I’m currently forgetting to freak out about, but I’m sure I will later. That’s the thing about me freaking out – my brain can only handle so much at one time. For instance, this morning I was in such a haze that I brushed my teeth, but it took me 20 minutes to realize I had forgotten to use toothpaste. I feel like an Alzheimer's patient right now. I’m constantly repeating myself, re-asking questions and spacing out. Cooking dinner has turned into a mammoth project, which has ended with me being in tears twice now. Apparently operating more than one stove burner at a time is simply more than I have the capacity for.
Watch for me on the news: "Woman's Head Explodes Due to Whole Mess of Crap"
Video at 11.
* Christmas shopping. I haven’t done any. I will probably be too sore after surgery to do any. Christmas with my fam is Dec. 22nd. Crap. As I mentioned before I have decided not to tell any of my fam about surgery…so somehow I’m going to have to hide this. Let’s see, breast surgery + seeing family for the holidays = lots of very painful hugs.
* My brother is coming in from CA, the day after my surgery, so I have to fit in seeing them. Them and their stupid fertile abili-ties.
* Immediately after Christmas, we leave for Belize. There’s no way I’ll be recovered enough for a bikini, so I’m not even packing one. The airport we’re flying out of is 4 hours away – so we still have to figure out logistics for that trip.
* We have yet to get a Christmas tree. We’re supposed to fit that in tonight before we get together with some friends for dinner. I have no idea when / if it will be decorated. In fact, I’m much less enthused to decorate it now that I’ve learned my in-laws will no longer be staying with us for the holidays:
* My mother-in-law (in attempt to try to make things easier on us) suggested we stay with them xmas eve, that way we don’t have to buy food right before we leave for vacation. Ha – like I was going to cook. Isn’t Papa John’s open on Christmas Eve? Very sweet of her, really. But with all the running around we’ve been doing (and lots more to come). Not to mention my complete lack of time/space to heal from impending surgery, I was really looking forward to sitting on my ass, on my couch, sipping my own very spiked eggnog. Now we’ll be living out of a suitcase, driving, hauling the dog around, and well, NOT sitting on my ass on my couch.
* Monday I have my blood work at the lab. Call me a wimp, but I get so nervous about having blood taken I could throw up. I can almost handle the surgery better– at least I’m asleep for that.
* Speaking of “handling the surgery” – did I mention I’m a nervous wreck? No? Oh. Well, I am. I want to jump in my canoe, ship off to sea and resurface in 5 years with amnesia. J, how does Panama sound to you? The drive to the hospital next Thursday is going to suck. I can see me grabbing the wheel out of J’s hands and trying to flip a U.
* Boobs. What is it with boobs and why are they so important? I’m not a vain person unless I’m having a particularly good hair day – so why am I spending 99% of my day freaking the fuck out over how I’ll look after this is over? Hell, our sex life has already taken quite the beating over it. Just the thought of what’s to come – and the huge mass of crap in me is enough to make me not want to be touched right now. How the hell am I going to feel when I come home beaten, bruised, stitched, carved and ultimately – scarred? My girls are in their prime for god’s sakes. There are topless beaches I have yet to conquer.
* The Big C: Why in god’s name am I freaking out over my boobs when there’s a much bigger and obvious threat hanging in front of me?
* The Two Week Wait. Hey, remember all those posts of me bitching about the 2 week wait after IVF to see if you’re pregnant? Ahhh, those were good times. From everything I’ve read (again, I was too deer-in-the-headlights to ask my doctor questions), it’s a 2 week wait after surgery to get test results back. The (new) Two Week Wait – damn the irony.
* The Six Week Wait. Honestly, I found the lump on Halloween. Can we just get it the fuck out of me already? It’s the second week of December for God’s sakes. Put me out of my misery.
* Whole Mess of Crap. I’ll just leave this little asterisk for all the other mess of gunk I’m currently forgetting to freak out about, but I’m sure I will later. That’s the thing about me freaking out – my brain can only handle so much at one time. For instance, this morning I was in such a haze that I brushed my teeth, but it took me 20 minutes to realize I had forgotten to use toothpaste. I feel like an Alzheimer's patient right now. I’m constantly repeating myself, re-asking questions and spacing out. Cooking dinner has turned into a mammoth project, which has ended with me being in tears twice now. Apparently operating more than one stove burner at a time is simply more than I have the capacity for.
Watch for me on the news: "Woman's Head Explodes Due to Whole Mess of Crap"
Video at 11.
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