27 February 2010
Fresh Air
Wow! I just realized that I haven't been outside of the house since arriving back home Tuesday night after my surgery. No wonder I'm beginning to sense a bit of stir-craziness in my bones. Unfortunately, my mobility is not great, and according to my local news source my county is under a low level snow emergency. Crap! So leaving the house is probably not a good idea. My body would not be so happy with me if I slipped and fell. To give you an idea of my mobility levels, I can barely walk up and the down the stairs on my own, and I can't sit up in bed without assistance. Does anyone have any low energy entertainment suggestions?
26 February 2010
No Tubes!
Earlier this week, I underwent the first of what will probably be two follow-up surgeries to the DIEP procedure that I had in October. The procedure was outpatient. My arrival time was scheduled at 10am. Since I get anxious before any surgery, and am not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before, I felt it best if Brandon and I spent the night near the surgical facility (we live about 1.5 hours away so not being able to even drink water would have made really cranky). Thanks to Priceline, I was able to secure a room for $39 at the hotel closest to the surgical facility. After work, on Monday evening, we headed up north on I-71, checked into the hotel, ate some dinner, wandered around the local mall, and watched some Olympic Ice Dancing on tv.
The next morning, at 10am, I checked in for surgery. Luckily the insurance issues seemed to have been sorted out. The nurses dressed me in a surgical gown, hat, and footies (I did get to keep my penguin socks on underneath the footies). The IV was inserted with no problem. Brandon was then allowed back in pre-op area to sit with me while I waited. And then we waited. My doctor didn't finish the prior patient until almost 2pm. When Magic Fingers did stop by, he was apologetic and said there were no surgeries scheduled after me, so all of his attention could be focused on me. He then grabbed his trusty purple marker and proceeded to draw all over my torso to mark the areas where he planned to work. Brandon said, when the doctor was finished, that my chest and stomach resembled a jack o' lantern.
After the surgeon completed making his markings, the nurses came back, injected some sedatives to my IV, I kissed Brandon, and was out cold. The last thing I remember was lying on my bed and being rolled out of the room where I had been waiting. And then I woke up on the other side (of the room).
The surgical wing was practically empty. Almost everyone had left for the day. Even most of the lights were turned off. Kind of creepy. And none of the remaining nursing staff could answer many of our questions. I simply ate my Lorna Doones, drank some ginger ale, and was ready to go home. My recommendations for anyone having outpatient surgery: Don't be the last patient of the day.
Thankfully, my body seems to be doing ok. I'm sore. I have difficulty bending and picking myself up off the couch or bed. But I don't have any tubes, and having no tubes is a very good place to be.
The next morning, at 10am, I checked in for surgery. Luckily the insurance issues seemed to have been sorted out. The nurses dressed me in a surgical gown, hat, and footies (I did get to keep my penguin socks on underneath the footies). The IV was inserted with no problem. Brandon was then allowed back in pre-op area to sit with me while I waited. And then we waited. My doctor didn't finish the prior patient until almost 2pm. When Magic Fingers did stop by, he was apologetic and said there were no surgeries scheduled after me, so all of his attention could be focused on me. He then grabbed his trusty purple marker and proceeded to draw all over my torso to mark the areas where he planned to work. Brandon said, when the doctor was finished, that my chest and stomach resembled a jack o' lantern.
After the surgeon completed making his markings, the nurses came back, injected some sedatives to my IV, I kissed Brandon, and was out cold. The last thing I remember was lying on my bed and being rolled out of the room where I had been waiting. And then I woke up on the other side (of the room).
The surgical wing was practically empty. Almost everyone had left for the day. Even most of the lights were turned off. Kind of creepy. And none of the remaining nursing staff could answer many of our questions. I simply ate my Lorna Doones, drank some ginger ale, and was ready to go home. My recommendations for anyone having outpatient surgery: Don't be the last patient of the day.
Thankfully, my body seems to be doing ok. I'm sore. I have difficulty bending and picking myself up off the couch or bed. But I don't have any tubes, and having no tubes is a very good place to be.
24 February 2010
Survived Surgery
Later this week, when I'm more coherent I'll write about my day of surgery, but I did want to let you know that I am at home and recuperating. The surgery seems to have been successful, and thanks to my pain medication, I'm feeling pretty good. :)
21 February 2010
Yarn Shopping
Yesterday, Brandon and I drove to the town of Wooster for a Saturday afternoon get-away. Wooster is a lovely town about an hour north of where we live, with cute shops and a few organic/local food-themed restaurants. A delightful vineyard is on the town’s outskirts, so we even stopped for a glass of wine on our way into town. Our destinations in Wooster were a yarn store, a music equipment store, and a bakery/restaurant for dinner. Because we got to town soon before closing time for the yarn and music stores, Brandon and I went our separate ways to visit our respective shopping destinations.
My store of choice was the yarn store. As I wandered among the colorful yarns of varying textures, I couldn’t help but overhear different conversations. The owner of the store seemed to be cultivating an environment where one felt comfortable to discuss any and all topics.
The first conversation I overheard was between the store owner and a woman about my age, maybe a little older. The customer was looking at patterns for infants. She had recently been through the adoption vetting process, and had been approved. Now all she had to do was wait, and make plans to knit a “welcome home” gift for the baby. Since all conversations about babies and adoption make me a little teary, I became misty eyed as I listened to the two ladies chat.
The second overhead conversation was between two ladies as they knit the world’s largest sock (an ongoing project at the store). Their discussion was about family, ailments, hospitals, and psychology. One of the women chose the moment I was standing near the table to reveal her cancer history. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer at 36 or 37 (she looked now to be in her 60s or early 70s). At some point many years ago, she had surgery to remove her ovaries. About two years ago, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Her story yesterday afternoon was about the experience of learning that one’s cancer has metastasized and the treatments that followed the new diagnosis. If you have ever been diagnosed with cancer, the fear of learning that your cancer has spread or returned is a nightmare that haunts all visits to the doctor. I could barely contain my sad emotions as I overheard this one woman’s very personal story.
I quickly chose 2 skeins of sparkly blue/gray Borocco yarn, paid for the yarn, and scurried out of the store when I began sobbing. With nowhere to hide, I spotted a nook in the front of nearby bank. I tried to stop crying, and the cold cement seat in the nook helped a bit. Since I have decided to not take anti-depressants, I do need to get better control of my emotions. Luckily Brandon soon wrapped up his shopping and was able to console me. We then went to eat our delicious dinner. I had a goat cheese and spinach salad with crab chowder. Brandon had a goat cheese and sausage pizza. For dessert, Brandon chose bananas foster and I had a Belgian chocolate crème. It was a day that deserved a dessert finale.
My store of choice was the yarn store. As I wandered among the colorful yarns of varying textures, I couldn’t help but overhear different conversations. The owner of the store seemed to be cultivating an environment where one felt comfortable to discuss any and all topics.
The first conversation I overheard was between the store owner and a woman about my age, maybe a little older. The customer was looking at patterns for infants. She had recently been through the adoption vetting process, and had been approved. Now all she had to do was wait, and make plans to knit a “welcome home” gift for the baby. Since all conversations about babies and adoption make me a little teary, I became misty eyed as I listened to the two ladies chat.
The second overhead conversation was between two ladies as they knit the world’s largest sock (an ongoing project at the store). Their discussion was about family, ailments, hospitals, and psychology. One of the women chose the moment I was standing near the table to reveal her cancer history. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer at 36 or 37 (she looked now to be in her 60s or early 70s). At some point many years ago, she had surgery to remove her ovaries. About two years ago, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Her story yesterday afternoon was about the experience of learning that one’s cancer has metastasized and the treatments that followed the new diagnosis. If you have ever been diagnosed with cancer, the fear of learning that your cancer has spread or returned is a nightmare that haunts all visits to the doctor. I could barely contain my sad emotions as I overheard this one woman’s very personal story.
I quickly chose 2 skeins of sparkly blue/gray Borocco yarn, paid for the yarn, and scurried out of the store when I began sobbing. With nowhere to hide, I spotted a nook in the front of nearby bank. I tried to stop crying, and the cold cement seat in the nook helped a bit. Since I have decided to not take anti-depressants, I do need to get better control of my emotions. Luckily Brandon soon wrapped up his shopping and was able to console me. We then went to eat our delicious dinner. I had a goat cheese and spinach salad with crab chowder. Brandon had a goat cheese and sausage pizza. For dessert, Brandon chose bananas foster and I had a Belgian chocolate crème. It was a day that deserved a dessert finale.
20 February 2010
FYI OMG
Earlier this week, I learned about the OMG! Cancer Summit for Young Adults. The 3rd annual conference will be held on May 23, 2010 in New York on the campus of Pace University. The event sounds like a wonderful opportunity to meet other young people who share similar cancer-related concerns. The day-long event will offer networking opportunities and host different panel discussions. Panel topics of high interest to me are on fertility issues and living life after cancer, but also listed on the agenda are conversations on employment/insurance, sex & relationships, and social media advocacy. Well known names in the young person's cancer world, including Kairol Rosenthal, author of Everything Changes: The Insider's Guide to Cancer in Your 20s and 30s and Matthew Zachary, founder of I'm Too Young For This!, are highlighted as panel participants, I don't know if I will be able to attend, but I am most definitely considering it.
To learn more about OMG! 2010 go to http://omgsummit.org/2010/index.html. Registration begins on April 5.
To learn more about OMG! 2010 go to http://omgsummit.org/2010/index.html. Registration begins on April 5.
19 February 2010
Trauma at Target
Over the past year and half, health insurance has not caused me much stress. Exchanges with my insurance company have been relatively smooth, a few bumps but nothing major. Due to the ongoing nature of cancer treatments, a case worker was assigned to me so I have regular human contact which is handy whenever a potentially confusing issue arises. My case worker has been invaluable in my cancer/doctor/insurance journey.
With my next surgery scheduled for Tuesday, I needed a physical in order to be "officially" approved for the procedure. My now healthy body passed with flying colors. While at the clinic, I was shown paperwork with my insurance information, and it looked fine to me. How wrong I was.
About an hour after leaving the facility, I am shopping in Target, enjoying a stroll through the underwear section when my phone rings. Of course, I can't get to the phone in time, and soon receive a cryptic message from an employee at the facility telling me to have her paged when I call back and her work schedule for the next few days. I return the call immediately. Turns out the woman works in the billing department, and is calling my insurance companies to get approval for the procedure (which was done months ago by my doctor's office). Without going into too much boring detail, she tells me she couldn't understand my different insurances and that I had almost needed to pay the hospital $5000 before my procedure. But, after leaving me the message, she soon deduced that I had two insurance policies, and was on the other line with my primary plan. The entire conversation unnerved me since she seemed to have little understanding of what I assumed were basic insurance transactions. And she chided me for never telling my primary insurance company about my secondary. Since the issue of introducing my two insurance plans had never come up before, I don't know why I should be scolded for it now.
About ten minutes later, I remembered that the procedure had been pre-certified by my primary insurance company, so I called her back. In the meantime, she seemed to have gained a better grasp of the situation. But I was still concerned, so I called my case worker. My advocate could already see the report of the call, and assured me that all would be fine. Especially since I have a history of a malignancy (guaranteed coverage!) and the procedure is outpatient (no pre-certification is needed). Go case workers!
So in conclusion, twenty-five minutes later, I am still in Target. Through all of these conversations, I am wandering from the underwear wall into the sock aisle (good discounts), passing through women's wear, and finally sitting at a table in the cafe area. Yes, I was the annoying person talking about extremely private issues on a mobile phone in a public arena. In my defense, one of the reasons why I kept moving through various areas in the store was to be where no one else was shopping. Except that during my movements through the store, with a cart, a large Early Gray tea dripped large drops of brown liquid on the front and arm of a new white sweater. After wrapping up my conversations, I found all kinds of delightful products to ease my pain. Thank goodness for shopping therapy, I feel much better now.
With my next surgery scheduled for Tuesday, I needed a physical in order to be "officially" approved for the procedure. My now healthy body passed with flying colors. While at the clinic, I was shown paperwork with my insurance information, and it looked fine to me. How wrong I was.
About an hour after leaving the facility, I am shopping in Target, enjoying a stroll through the underwear section when my phone rings. Of course, I can't get to the phone in time, and soon receive a cryptic message from an employee at the facility telling me to have her paged when I call back and her work schedule for the next few days. I return the call immediately. Turns out the woman works in the billing department, and is calling my insurance companies to get approval for the procedure (which was done months ago by my doctor's office). Without going into too much boring detail, she tells me she couldn't understand my different insurances and that I had almost needed to pay the hospital $5000 before my procedure. But, after leaving me the message, she soon deduced that I had two insurance policies, and was on the other line with my primary plan. The entire conversation unnerved me since she seemed to have little understanding of what I assumed were basic insurance transactions. And she chided me for never telling my primary insurance company about my secondary. Since the issue of introducing my two insurance plans had never come up before, I don't know why I should be scolded for it now.
About ten minutes later, I remembered that the procedure had been pre-certified by my primary insurance company, so I called her back. In the meantime, she seemed to have gained a better grasp of the situation. But I was still concerned, so I called my case worker. My advocate could already see the report of the call, and assured me that all would be fine. Especially since I have a history of a malignancy (guaranteed coverage!) and the procedure is outpatient (no pre-certification is needed). Go case workers!
So in conclusion, twenty-five minutes later, I am still in Target. Through all of these conversations, I am wandering from the underwear wall into the sock aisle (good discounts), passing through women's wear, and finally sitting at a table in the cafe area. Yes, I was the annoying person talking about extremely private issues on a mobile phone in a public arena. In my defense, one of the reasons why I kept moving through various areas in the store was to be where no one else was shopping. Except that during my movements through the store, with a cart, a large Early Gray tea dripped large drops of brown liquid on the front and arm of a new white sweater. After wrapping up my conversations, I found all kinds of delightful products to ease my pain. Thank goodness for shopping therapy, I feel much better now.
16 February 2010
Hat Free Zone
Last winter, I always had my bald head covered with either a cranial prosthetic or hat. I didn't want anyone to see my hair-free head. Not even Brandon. The idea of being bald made me unhappy and uncomfortable, the reality was even worse. A hat became a symbol of hiding. Now a year later, it is winter again, and the ice and snow show no signs of relenting. And I don't want to wear a hat.
I know hats are good for you. A hat keeps your body warm. And warm is good. Very good. But I still don't want to wear a hat. Hopefully, many years from now and after many therapy sessions, I will overcome my remaining psychological issues pertaining to chemo (so I apologize to you, those who read this blog, for the continuing chemo-related posts).
The reason why I choose to wear a hat this winter is so I can remain healthy for my next surgery. I don't want any pesky winter ailment holding me back from getting my next surgical procedure. Someday I will be normal again. I will wear a hat because I want to wear a hat, and I won't have another surgery on the horizon.
I know hats are good for you. A hat keeps your body warm. And warm is good. Very good. But I still don't want to wear a hat. Hopefully, many years from now and after many therapy sessions, I will overcome my remaining psychological issues pertaining to chemo (so I apologize to you, those who read this blog, for the continuing chemo-related posts).
The reason why I choose to wear a hat this winter is so I can remain healthy for my next surgery. I don't want any pesky winter ailment holding me back from getting my next surgical procedure. Someday I will be normal again. I will wear a hat because I want to wear a hat, and I won't have another surgery on the horizon.
13 February 2010
Surgery Scheduled
My first of two followup surgeries for my DIEP procedure has finally been scheduled. I will go under the knife on February 23rd. When I last saw Magic Fingers (my nickname for my surgeon), he said this surgery should only take a couple of hours. Compared with the 15 hours of the last one, two hours is nothing.
Now begins my mad dash to complete all the half-finished projects at work. Plus I will need to find time some day this week (exact time and date are TBD) to go to a doctor, have a not very invasive physical to determine if my body can withstand surgery, and get some blood drawn. A chance exists that I may get to go to my local doctor, but with the scheduling being so last minute, I worry that I won't be able to make an appointment with enough time. Sometimes my doctor's office can be difficult when making appointments, although it seems ever since I entered into the world of breast cancer, I get some preferential treatment. My local doctor was diagnosed with it last year, and I wonder if my file has been tagged because I've been able to get an appointment fairly easily, and sometimes when I am not even sure if the office is open for business. If I can't see the local doctor, I will probably be making a day-long trip to Cleveland.
I need to stop stressing about work, but I've got a lot to do in a very short time. And this time it is not because I am procrastinator (which I am). If this surgery were happening over the summer, I would not be as nearly stressed as I am today. I work at a college, so my stress levels vary depending upon the semester cycle. Since spring break is only a couple of weeks away, students are needing midterm assistance. I've got a library instruction session scheduled for early this week. Each one of these sessions needs to be custom tailored to the class, and even more specifically, to the assignment. Ack! Plus I am one of the main planners for an event for the campus which is scheduled for right after my surgery, which means I've got a lot of work to do before my surgery. Some of the work can be delegated but it does look like I'll be going to work today, on Saturday, so I can begin the week being partially organized. Boo!
Now begins my mad dash to complete all the half-finished projects at work. Plus I will need to find time some day this week (exact time and date are TBD) to go to a doctor, have a not very invasive physical to determine if my body can withstand surgery, and get some blood drawn. A chance exists that I may get to go to my local doctor, but with the scheduling being so last minute, I worry that I won't be able to make an appointment with enough time. Sometimes my doctor's office can be difficult when making appointments, although it seems ever since I entered into the world of breast cancer, I get some preferential treatment. My local doctor was diagnosed with it last year, and I wonder if my file has been tagged because I've been able to get an appointment fairly easily, and sometimes when I am not even sure if the office is open for business. If I can't see the local doctor, I will probably be making a day-long trip to Cleveland.
I need to stop stressing about work, but I've got a lot to do in a very short time. And this time it is not because I am procrastinator (which I am). If this surgery were happening over the summer, I would not be as nearly stressed as I am today. I work at a college, so my stress levels vary depending upon the semester cycle. Since spring break is only a couple of weeks away, students are needing midterm assistance. I've got a library instruction session scheduled for early this week. Each one of these sessions needs to be custom tailored to the class, and even more specifically, to the assignment. Ack! Plus I am one of the main planners for an event for the campus which is scheduled for right after my surgery, which means I've got a lot of work to do before my surgery. Some of the work can be delegated but it does look like I'll be going to work today, on Saturday, so I can begin the week being partially organized. Boo!
06 February 2010
"Humor in Medicine"
I assume if I mention The Onion, America's Finest News Source, you are aware of the satirical newspaper/website. If not, I'm sorry. Actually I'm not sorry, you should know what it is.
A while back, I was trolling around on The Onion's website and came across this humorous story about a breast cancer run. Enjoy!
A while back, I was trolling around on The Onion's website and came across this humorous story about a breast cancer run. Enjoy!
04 February 2010
Fuzzy Brain
Recently a thought occurred to me: the popular children's rhyme about Fuzzy Wuzzy is a metaphor for chemo. Hair loss is only one of many side effects. A fuzzy or muddled brain is another. At times I wonder if my short term memory is gone forever. Sometimes when participating in a simple conversation, I will forget my thought. I often can’t remember what was said minutes before (by me or my conversational partner). Even as I write this blog entry, I am forgetting my thoughts mid-sentence and then sit at the computer waiting for the thought to return.
Now I know what you are thinking. You think “I forget things.” True. You probably do. Before chemo, I too would forget what item I sought in the living room or my truly brilliant reply within a conversation. But this sense of forgetfulness is a constant presence, whether I am at work or at play. At times, I worry that I’m forgetting something really important. In fact, right now, I know I had a “bigger picture” point to make in this blog entry but sadly it is escaping me at the moment.
Now I know what you are thinking. You think “I forget things.” True. You probably do. Before chemo, I too would forget what item I sought in the living room or my truly brilliant reply within a conversation. But this sense of forgetfulness is a constant presence, whether I am at work or at play. At times, I worry that I’m forgetting something really important. In fact, right now, I know I had a “bigger picture” point to make in this blog entry but sadly it is escaping me at the moment.
03 February 2010
Betsy Update
Tonight Betsy climbed into my lap and snuggled with me for the first time since the surgery. She can be such a sweet little kitty when she wants to be. Oh happy day!
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