Damn. Dammit. Shit.

10 weeks, 1 day.

That's how long I carried this last little one.

We had the positive pregnancy test in the beginning of December and I felt really good about it.

I got those immediate, dark confirmation lines a few days before I was even due to miss my period.

I have the inability to ignore those pregnancy tests sitting under our sink and that was the last one.

I didn't even feel compelled to buy more, I already knew because of the total and complete exhaustion I felt that I was absolutely pregnant.

I put a Big Brother shirt on Peanut the next day and waited for daddy to notice what it said.  We celebrated with more reserve then we would have before the first miscarriage.  We'd feel better when we saw that little beating heart on the monitor during the first ultrasound.  Still we were excited, despite my aversion to meat and my waves of nausea.

A day before the 8 week mark we sat in the doctors office.  I shifted with a crunch, crunch as I sat on the paper-covered examining chair.   I tried to cover my freezing legs with a sheet and ignore the nervousness I was suddenly feeling.

The midwife and trainee came in and chatted through the preliminary questions.  They knew that after the last miscarriage I would be eager to get through this and tried their best to hurry.  She commented on how fast my heart was beating and I gave a nervous laugh.

When the ultrasound started we all looked at it in silence.  I couldn't see anything inside the yolk sack.  

My mind flitted back to the first appointment with Peanut where at 6 1/2 weeks we saw the little flicker of his beating heart.  I held my breath.  Then we saw the little blip of the baby as they tried to maneuver the ultrasound wand to get a better view.  The sack was measuring 7 only weeks and there wasn't a heartbeat yet.  We were told that at this stage in development the heartbeat could show up any day.  There was still a chance.

We walked out of the office in a silent daze.  This was not how I had envisioned the visit going.  B left for work and I headed to the lab to get my blood drawn.  Over the next week we kept track of my steadily climbing HCG levels with great hope.  The levels looked so good they bumped up the next appointment for an ultrasound.

A little over a week later we sat in the waiting room for far too long.  It was the first time they had run late like this and B had to leave for work as I sat waiting in the examination room.   As soon as the ultrasound started I knew it wasn't good.  Although the baby looked a little bigger she still couldn't find a heartbeat. They sent me down for more blood work and an ultrasound in radiology where the machines are more sensitive.  I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for results from various tests and reading the same few pages of my book.  The midwife cried with me when she told me that the baby didn't make it.  There was no heartbeat, the yolk sack was an abnormal shape and despite the rising HCG levels the pregnancy had failed.  She told me I had gone through too much in my young life and gave me my options.

I sobbed in the parking lot as I called B at work.  Again.  Here I am again, sitting in the parking lot, calling B at work to tell him that we lost the baby.  Again.  I sent a message to my mom to tell her and let her know that I would pick up Peanut later.  I needed to go home and sleep, I was so tired all of a sudden.  A little Taco Bell therapy and a nap.  B came home early from work and we talked about moving forward.  I felt better by the evening.  I'd known for a week this was a possibility.

A week later at 10 weeks my body wasn't showing any signs of a natural miscarriage and I had decided not to wait on it.  I looked at the prescription I had picked up and read the direction on how to take the medication.  Insert both pills into your vagina 3 hours before surgery.  I read the directions again.  You see, the pills were the same ones I took during the last miscarriage only I had taken them ORALLY.  These weren't suppositories, these were just plain ole pills and there was no applicator.  I sent the doctor a message and called the nurse.  "Are you sure?  I stick these, up there, with my finger?", I asked.  She assured me that the pills can be taken orally or vaginally.  This is still odd to me.  I mean, they couldn't make the same pill a little more vagina friendly?   Who's with me?  I assumed I could then ignore the part of the instructions that said the medicine should be taken with food.  I hope.

The next day, after "taking my medicine" my mom took me to the surgery center after she came to pick up Peanut.  B was heading in from work to pick me up.  I sat in pre-op by myself and thought about how I could handle anything.  I felt calm as I read my book and listened to the woman behind the curtain next to me.  She was a nervous wreck and I felt bad for her.  I sat calmly as the doctor asked 100 questions regarding my breast cancer diagnosis and then what vein I prefer he use for the IV.  Doctors are always interested in my breast cancer history, it's seems like a fun learning case.  I was impressed with the lidocaine numbing shot before the IV (wrist and hand IV's always hurt a bit) and the awesome heating contraption they hooked to my gown.  I sat comfortably waiting for my turn in the OR.  I reclined in my bed and slipped into the world described in my book.

2 hours later I realized the lidocaine had worn off when I could feel how uncomfortable the IV was.  I had picked my favorite chemo spot, a nice vein in my wrist that usually didn't give me any trouble.  Apparently the vein was tired and he had to go in a little higher.  I sat with my hand hanging over the railing in hopes of relieving some of the pressure.  I tried to pull the IV back slightly but the tape did it's job and made it impossible.  I could feel the bruise forming.  It makes me laugh that I feel I can do things like adjust my own IV because that just can't be a good idea.

That cool contraption that was heating my gown was starting to feel like a personal torture device.  I tried to look around and follow the hose pumping in the hot air to it's source.  There was no luck.  I kept up a never-ending round of texts to my parents and B as I started to sweat.  I sent pictures of my stocking feet as I waited in bed.  I suspect that this is not normal behavior for a person but I blame blogging on my impulse to document everything.  I kept eyeing the red button that calls the nurse.

Does sweating in your dressing down give you cause to push the red button hanging next to the bed?  If I push the button are people going to come rushing in to save me?  How long can I stand the heat?  Is this for emergencies only?  It was at this point specifically that I wished desperately that B was with me.  Not because of the actual surgery or because of the emotional difficulty but because of the heat induced panic I was nearly in.

I envisioned them putting me on the operating table and talking about how they would need to wipe the sweat off my body before starting.  Nobody wants to deal with a sweaty hoo hoo and so I quickly pushed the button and looked around anxiously.  I'm sure I looked a lot like Peanut just after he's done something he knows he shouldn't.  The nurse came in and pointed out a dial that would have apparently controlled the heat.  This would have been good to know during the hour I sat in my own little piece of hell.  

It was close to 2 pm and I hadn't had anything to eat since the night before.  I tried to fan the sweat off my body.  A few minutes later a nurse came in to take me to the OR.  What is my name, when is my birthday, etc, etc.  She asked me to confirm name of the procedure I was waiting on.  Suddenly I couldn't remember what it was called.  In my mind I recalled my mom calling it a "dusting and cleaning" and I laughed at the thought of repeating that to her.  I'm here for a D&C and my voice sounded calm and easy.  Everyone looked at me as if I might break down into tears but there is something very familiar to me about being at the doctor.  I felt completely comfortable, even more so after the calming cocktail.  A few minutes later, under the bright lights I took a few deep breaths and that was it.

When I woke up I saw the nurse pull out the mesh panties.  I laughed at seeing them again before remembered the baby I was holding the last time I had to wear them.  It was something about the damn mesh panties.  We chit chatted and I found out that she had 4 boys, the youngest is 3 and I couldn't believe her energy.  I'm always compelled to talk to my nurses and doctors and find out more about them.  It might be habit from managing restaurants, that same social tendency to get to know people and make them feel comfortable.  It might be a way for me to focus on things other than my nerves.  Maybe I'm just nosey.  My doctor is 36 and grew up in HB, he seemed slightly socially uncomfortable and I tried to give him encouraging smiles when he made eye contact.  The anesthesiologist is also a comedian, the nurse prefers tea over coffee, these are things I remember.

B came in as they got me ready to head home.  I hobbled inside our house and sat staring at the TV, clicking, clicking, clicking without seeing the pictures.  I wondered why my doctor needed to give me 100 pills with a refill.  I wondered how bad the pain would be.  600 mg ibuprofen and I still have Vicodin from the last miscarriage and I started thinking about the prescription drug problem in America.  I'm pretty sure I came up with a few ways to save the world but I can't remember any of them anymore.  I cried into B's chest before bed as I had a few days prior and went to sleep feeling closer to him then ever before.

The next day I felt a million times better.  I had taken 2 pills.  I cleaned house, organizing things that made life feel more in control.  I thought about what the doctor had told us.  

She reminded me that after rounds and rounds of chemo it affected my body in more permanent ways.  At 33 years old my eggs were really in their 40's.  I had thought the difficulty would be in getting pregnant but I suppose that for me the difficulty is in staying pregnant.  2 miscarriages in 6 months, almost to the day.

That was when I realized how lucky we are.  We always new Peanut was a gift but I never appreciated him so much.  We got pregnant with him so quickly that it seemed the threat of having chemo-fied eggs was over. Now we were reminded the truth and I felt a new rush of gratitude for having Peanut.  If all else fails, if we never make it through another pregnancy, we have each other and we have Peanut and we have friends and family who love us and we will always be grateful for this world that we have.

Sometimes I'm sad.  Sometimes I think about that pink-cheeked baby I thought I would be holding in August or the one I so briefly thought about holding in March and my arms twitch momentarily and I swallow the lump in my throat.  But at this point, 5 days later, I mostly feel positive.  I look forward to getting healthy, getting my body back in shape, getting my mind back in shape and spending some time with my family.  

Goodbye Oncology!

Yesterday I had my very last ever, ending, final, concluding, um last (did I mention that?)

 oncology appointment.

MY LAST ONCOLOGY APPOINTMENT!

That is 5 years and 4 months since diagnosis.

This concludes 16 months of treatment and 4 years of follow-ups including:

one biopsy

one lumpectomy and sentinel lymph node removal

some very painful pre-surgery shots that still make me squirm when I think about them

6 rounds of 3 different types of chemo

6 painful post chemo shots

one bald and very round head

1 year of Herceptin IV treatment every 3 weeks

a scare that required tests to rule out metastasis 

16 total months of sitting for an IV drip every 3 weeks

tattooed dots for radiation

35 rounds of radiation (thats 5 days a week for 7 weeks people!)

one boob that looked like mahogany colored leather for months

a scare that involved the wrongful canceling of my insurance and a bill for $100,000, 

a small heart attack, a battle with insurance and the eventual reinstatement

medicine that made me feel crazy

follow-up appointments with 4 different doctors that started out every month, 

then every 3 and this past year closer to every 6 months

endless amounts of bloodwork

the aging of my friends and family

and a partridge in a pear tree!

I can hardly believe it's over.

I'll have some yearly follow up but none that requires walking into the oncology unit.

I hadn't really thought about this as being a big event until I was sitting in the office and she told me I was "discharged from oncology and graduated from oncology follow ups".

Somehow though, there was just a tiny bit of anxiety along with the whole process.

I mean, now it's up to me to catch it early should it pop back up, there aren't eyes on me all the time.

I mentioned that it would be weird not checking in and she said that if I wanted to I was free to come in once a year for a follow up.

Not likely!  I appreciate the option though.

I switched insurance a while back so I'm not familiar with this staff but it was nice to see the look on the nurses face when she read my papers and realized I wasn't coming back.

I walked down the hall and opened the door to the waiting room. 

I saw anxiety, exhaustion, resignation, patience and sickness in the eyes looking back at me.

I exhaled when I got in the elevator.

By the time the doors opened 3 floors later I was crying.

I cried on the phone to my mom.

I cried when I was greeted at home by B and Peanut.

I cried sporadically through the day.

I didn't expect to be so emotional about it, I hadn't thought about it at all before the actual appointment.


Very attractive.

AND THEN the day got even better.

After B went to work and Peanut went down for a nap I realized that I could not possibly be celebrating without chocolate.

I couldn't find any at all.

In a desperate attempt to curb my chocolate fix I started searching unopened Home Depot boxes.

I saw the box marked pantry in the corner of the garage and guess what I found?

Ghiradelli Double Chocolate Brownie Mix!

Could the day get any better?!

Yes it could!

Whilst searching through Goodreads I spied a book review that made me laugh, followed it to the reviewers page, saw another book she was currently reading, read the commentary, laughed at the authors witty responses and made the comment that I would read the book just because the author was so funny.

AND THEN guess what?!

He sent me a message to tell me that he would send me a copy of his book!

A free book from a witty author that I already love!

AND THEN Peanut went to bed and slept 9 hours straight in his own bed!

I'm almost panting now in the re-telling of this story.

There were just too many good things happening!


Whoa there!  

AND THEN you know what else?

I love being able to share my excitement.

I posted on facebook and ended up with 167 likes (and counting) and over 50 messages of love, excitement and support.

It makes me cry just thinking about it.

I'm only sorry I didn't buy a lottery ticket yesterday as my friend Darryl suggested.

If your new 'round here and you want to get caught up on some of my favorite cancer stories 

(is that weird to say?)

You can read about my diagnosis HERE, HERE and HERE.

You can read about how I lost my hair and B used it as a mustache HEREhttp://spontaneousclapping.blogspot.com/2011/03/mustache.html

You can read about a man I still think about HERE.

Or you could read about it all under the tag The Big C.

~sigh~

Thank you all for going through this all with me.

I'm going to go finish that pan of brownies now.

An update and some IORT

Mom did really well during the surgery and things are looking good.

She was able to get the new fancy IORT procedure.

That's intraoperative radiation treatment for all you people who aren't in with the newest technology.

It's still fairly new here in the states, although they've been doing it for years in Europe.

Basically, they are able to do radiation during surgery, directly to the targeted area.

It's super awesome and I'm sort of jealous.

In fact, I really don't think it's at all fair.

I had to do 7 weeks of radiation.  35 treatments total.

And my boob looked like burgundy aged leather by the end.

And it didn't completely fade away for years.

And it still tans differently.

And I have several tattooed dots on my body.

But hey, if you have it a bit easier, that's cool.

:|

Anyway, they were able to do it during surgery, minimizing exposure to unnecessary tissue and organs, speeding up the treatment process and really targeting what is most important.

The whole process is really exciting!

I have to say that with all the awareness and money raised for breast cancer, 

it is really exciting to see that money at work.

It's only been 5 years since my diagnosis.... less than 4 years since my treatment and we've already progressed so far in better treatments.

Thank you mom for getting cancer so that I can see that our fundraising money was put to good use!

Mom is doing really well.  I always say that she has super healing powers... or maybe it's that she can handle pain a lot better than I can.

Thank you for all the well wishes and prayers!!

PS  I will have a 52 Foods post up for this week... I'm lagging a bit but I'm totally going to play the cancer card... even if it's not mine.

Once again, from the other side

It's been almost 5 years since my breast cancer diagnosis 

and everything seemed to be working out just fine.  

That is, until about a month ago...

when mom was diagnosed.

She found a lump in her breast and went to get it checked out.

I didn't even worry.  

After my diagnosis I had done the genetic testing and the tests came up negative.

There are two markers that they know of linking genetic breast cancer and I came up negative for both.

Last summer, in August, on two consecutive days, my cousin (on my mom's side) and my aunt (on my dad's side) were both diagnosed with breast cancer.  

They've both been through various surgeries and treatments and are doing well.

It seemed crazy but then again... it seems that people are getting diagnosed right and left these days.

So when my mom said she was going in for a mammogram, and an ultrasound, and a biopsy I didn't worry much about it.  I thought about the what if's but I didn't really take them seriously.

When I had cancer the experience was oddly positive.  I know it sounds crazy but I didn't spend time stressing about the what ifs and I didn't cry over the why's.

The moment I found out mom had cancer I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.

I obsessed over it all day.  I thought about it constantly.  I'm still thinking about it.

It's so much worse being on this side of things.

I'm not really worried, I know she'll be fine... although between you and me (and all of the internet) she is such a horrible patient.  She's cranky when she can't do things and she doesn't follow the rules.  Getting her to relax and recover should be interesting. 

She's doing fine now, there have been amazing leaps in technology and knowledge in the five years since I went through this process.  I'm beginning to think it's quite unfair and I'll share more info about all that later.

When asked how she's handling all of this she'd tell you that "Anything Dawn can do I can do better!"

We shall see mom, we shall see.

Mom goes in for a lumpectomy and sentinel lymph node removal Wednesday morning.

Keep your fingers crossed and say some prayers for a good pathology report and a fast recovery!

It's time to feel your boobies.

TOUCH YOURSELF!

Its Breast Cancer Awareness Month and maybe the only time I can use a blog title like 

Touch Yourself without losing my lovely readers.

I'm going to step up on my soap box and remind all of you about the importance of the Self Breast Exam. It is so important to learn what your breasts feel like and 

what is normal for you in order to indentify any changes.

I'm going to remind you that I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 27. 

That is 13 years before mammogram age. 

I would have been long dead by 40 had my cancer not been found. 

I am alive because a lovely doctor felt a lump in my breast during an exam. 

I did not find it because frankly, I wasn't doing regular breast exams.

Don't rely on luck. Be proactive.

Give yourself an exam. 

Let your partner give you an exam. 

Let a stranger... dear God, I'm only kidding, although I am sure you would get some volunteers. 

Please don't be telling your other half I sent you out to the streets to get felt up.

This page here has information on how to do self breast exams among other bits of info. 

Take the quiz and test your BC knowledge!

Please also know that only 5-10% of breast cancer comes from the hereditary genes. 

The other 90-95% of us just get it without rhyme or reason. 

Women get it, men get it, people of all ages get it. 

So spread the word and encourage the people you love to be proactive!

That being said, if you do feel a lump don't freak out. 

The vast majority of lumps found are absolutely nothing. 

I know so many women who felt a lump or had mammos or bibopsies :) that ended up being nothing. 

The point is that they checked it out. 

If you would like more information about finding a lump go here.

Also, if ever you need someone to talk to about any of this please don't hesitate to email me. 

I am not a doctor and I can only speak from my experience 

but I promise to give you nothing but honest answers or a listening ear.

Now go touch yourselves! Oh, and tell your friends to touch themselves too!

Cancer on paper

I've recently changed my insurance.  All new doctors, a whole new system.  Starting over.

I see an oncologist every 6 months, have a mammogram every year, the obgyn twice a year, blood labs done every 6 months in addition to my regular doctors visit once a year and whatever else seems to come up.. and things always do. 

If I were to spread it all out monthly then I would have a visit every month.

Changing all this can be daunting and exhausting.



I had to request a copy of my medical records from UCLA and was completely surprised when they arrived.  I have no idea why but I didn't expecct such a thick packet.

That packet only includes my treatment at UCLA and not even my radiation at St. Josephs.  Isn't that crazy.



B and I sat thumbing through the pages, randomly stopping to see the neatly printed notes.

Above is a list of my chemo cocktail.  8 different drugs.  Oh and the benadryl to counter the allergic reaction I had to the chemo.  It brought back some memories of the days sitting in that chemo chair.  I may share a few stories with you.

All of those memories and none of them bother me in the least.



16 months of treatment and I realized I've forgotten a lot of the dates in between.  I can tell you that my last round chemo was October 26th, 2007.

I can tell you that I travelled to UCLA and sat with an IV in my arm every 3 weeks for over a year.

I can tell you that I had 35 rounds of radiation over 7 weeks and my skin looked like leather.

I can no longer remember every individual date.  I couldn't remember what date I started radiation or when I stopped taking my post-chemo meds.



Sometimes the memories are so very vivid and sometimes it seems that having cancer was a lifetime ago.

Then again, it was a life ago.  It was pre-Peanut.  It was pre-Mrs. B. 

It's interesting looking back thru these records and thinking about all that we've been through.  I dare say that it's a nice reminder.  Equally foreign and familiar, having come out of it the way we have, I can look back and smile... and heave a big sigh of relief.

It's been a wild ride.

The Mustache

I just pulled this picture of B off of my phone. It was taken July 28th, 2007.

Some of you have already read the story behind this picture but if you haven't you can read it HERE!

It's a little weird but then again, a lot of my stories are.

Lopsided

If reading about my boobs makes you uncomfortable then I suggest you turn back now. You are about to hear more about them then you ever wanted. Not that you ever really wanted to hear about them at all.

As many of you know I had breast cancer several years ago. As a result I had a lumpectomy in my left breast. The doctors removed a mass that was a little less than 1 inch in diameter. The thing is... when you have size A breasts, well 1 inch makes a difference!

After the lumpectomy I was left with several scars and a breast that was shaped differently. It was as if they made an incision, removed the tissue and then just pulled the bottom up to meet the top. My nipples point in different directions now. I mean, I'm not complaining. I'll be honest and say it doesn't bother me in the least.

It's just that if you were looking at me.. naked (this post is getting weirder by the minute) then one nipple would point at you and the other would be pointing up and over your right shoulder.

The right nipple all normal and the left nipple all like, Hey, what's that over there?! I suppose now my nipples are more representative of my personality. Mismatched and all split personality. Perhaps all nipples should be representative of their owner's personalities? Some should be bold and big and others small and meek.

During the pregnancy my left remained unchanged as my right grew and grew and stretched and stretched and mocked the left one relentlessly. I'm talking about the nipple here, not the breast. Sadly my breasts did not grow during my pregnancy.... just my nipple. I'll take a moment while you wrap your mind around that.

At about 5 months it started leaking giving me hope that my milk would indeed come in, at least on my right side. Having received 35 rounds of radiation on the left I didn't have high hopes of getting milk on that side.

When my milk finally did come in (on the right side only) I began to witness the growing of a breast. It was magical really. It was like watching a science experiment with the right experimental breast growing and the left control breast staying the same. I had a brief glimpse of what it would be like to fill out shirts and have curves in a dress.

Only I was completely lopsided. You see, even though my nipples are wonky noone can see. This growing of one breast was different. Some of you totally know what I mean when I talk about the difference in size. Can you imagine it? In the end I had to stuff the left cup with a crazy amount of nursing pads and try to make sure I didn't look lumpy or disfigured.... or that a pad didn't dislodge itself and work it's way up my top.

That would be embarasssing. I know this because once when I was in college (back when I still wanted to pretend I had breasts) I had put push-up pads in my bra. At the end of the night, after a few cocktails at my college boyfriend's fraternity house, I went home to find that I only had the pad in one side of my bra. All I could do was wonder how many people throughout the night saw that pad works it's way up and out of my top. Hey, is that a bra pad hanging out of Dawn's shirt? Hey what's that on the floor? Oh that's the pad from that lame girl who tried to stuff her bra.

One can only hope that when all this is over the right one will sag causing my breasts to make a sort of disco point. Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, stayin' alive.

One can only hope...

Road Trip to This Heavenly Life!

Have you been to This Heavenly Life before? Written by the incredibly talented Sarah her stories are always well-written and full of character. In support of Breast Cancer Awareness Month she has been hosting Write Pink!

I'm kicking off survivor's week with a story about one of my cancer experiences. It may be a little weird but I don't suppose you'll be surprised by that. :)

Please stop by This Heavenly Life to see my POST and leave a comment to be entered into a giveaway from the Vintage Pearl!

Chemo-fied Eggs

I often say that cancer is the gift that keeps on giving because it seems as though the effects of having cancer last forever. After nearly 16 months of treatments there were and still are the follow-ups with the oncologist, the surgeon and the radiation oncologist. Add that to the regular doctor and dentist visits and I could be in an office monthly. The most profound effect of cancer has been on my reproductive system. You see, chemo kills everything in its path and it doesn't care about your eggs.

In discussing my treatment plan before chemo I asked the doctor about the effect it would have on my fertility. He replied that there would be no babies without a mommy. Simply, if you don't live this won't be an issue. We thought briefly of harvesting eggs at $10,000 a pop but the focus was just on getting me started in treatment. We didn't really look into saving the eggs. I might not have done things the same way now but there isn't any use in looking back.

Several months into treatment I stopped menstruating. It's called chemo-induced menopause.

Oh menopause, what every 27 year old wants to go thru. I have 2 words for you. Hot.Flashes. Also known as my own personal hell in which you literally fry from the inside out. This lasted for months and months. Even when I would eventually start spotting again, the hot flashes stayed for so much longer.

The result of chemofying my eggs was irregular menstruation, one inactive ovary and lots of guessing as too whether they would recover. Hello little friends, are you in there? Are you awake? Are you ready to jump into action?

About a year and a half ago my gynecologist told me that I would probably be in full menopause by the time I hit 40 years old. As peri-menopause (when your fertility starts to decrease) can start up to 10 years ahead and I was 29, I had better get a move on. We were told that conceiving would be a tough road for us. We weren't even sure it was a possibility. There is no way of telling how damaged your remaining eggs are. My poor little chemofied ovaries. So we wanted to get started right away. B and I wanted to make sure that we gave ourselves the time to try before we had to move on to the next step. Whatever the next step is.

Friends and family offered words of support and pregnancy became a different type of subject around us. What if? Can we? Will I? How? Why? When?

So here we are.

We've been married for less than 4 months and naturally.....


I'm pregnant.
:)

The Collector

I wrote this a few months ago and thought I would share it with you.

A while back B was showing me one of his collections. I could start a whole blog on his collections alone but we'll go there later.

As I was listening intently to the background of these precious artifacts I saw a beat up sandwich bag in the corner of the box. I pulled it out and just guess what was in it? You’ll never guess… but try anyway...it was...



my hair!

Now this is not nearly as creepy as it sounds, it’s actually rather sweet.

It was from The Day We Shaved My Head. (This was a momentous day and deserves to be capitalized) We’ve been through a lot in our 5 years. But more than the diagnosis, the surgery or the chemo sessions, the shaving of my head was the single most defining moment of my having cancer. I’m not sure what it is about it. Is it the fact that everyone who sees you from then on knows you have The Big C? Is it because it doesn’t allow anyone who loves you to deny the situation is real? Is it because you look like a cancer patient even if you don’t feel like one?

In the week prior I had started to lose my hair and B seemed nonchalant. But shaving my head was different. For B the idea of me having cancer didn't really sink in until he turned on those clippers and took off that first chunk of hair. Shaving my head was definitely at the top of his list of things he never thought he would do.

I remember seeing my hair hit the white tile floor and wondering when I was going to freak out. I said something and he snapped at me. I locked eyes with him in the mirror. My temper flared and I glared at him. He glared back. We were both frustrated. I asked him why he couldn't be more sensitive to my situation and he responded that it was hard for him too.

I feel badly saying this but B is so mellow it never even occurred to me that this might be a bit traumatic for him. We hadn't really discussed our feelings about it before. Neither one of us expected to get upset over it. I got up and went to the bathroom and shut the door. I stared at my head with its missing patch of hair. He asked me rather loudly if I was OK. I made a dramatic face at myself in the mirror, turned around and opened the door.

He hugged me and said he was right there with me and we both said out loud we could handle whatever came our way. We talked about the emotions we could put a name to and we laughed about how funny we looked. Here we are with my partially shaved head and B standing with the clippers in his hand. The tension melted away. I didn’t know until later the range of emotions running through him. I definitely didn’t know until now that he had picked up a lock of hair, tucked it into a plastic bag and kept it in his dresser drawer as a momento.



That night changed the way we looked at our relationship, the things we could handle and who we were as a couple.

I’m so glad he saved a piece of it.

Touch Yourself!

Its Breast Cancer Awareness Month and maybe the only time I can use a blog title like Touch Yourself without losing my lovely readers.

I'm going to step up on my soap box and remind all of you about the importance of the Self Breast Exam. It is so important to learn what your breasts feel like and what is normal for you so you can indentify any changes.

I'm going to remind you that I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 27. That is 13 years before mammogram age. I would have been long dead by 40 had my cancer not been found. I am alive because a lovely doctor felt a lump in my breast during an exam. I did not find it because frankly, I wasn't doing regular breast exams.

Don't rely on luck. Be proactive. Give yourself an exam. Let your partner give you an exam. Let a stranger... dear God, I'm only kidding, although I am sure you would get some volunteers. Please don't be telling your other half I sent you out to the streets to get felt up.

This page here has information on how to do self breast exams among other bits of info. Take the quiz and test your BC knowledge!

Please also know that only 5-10% of breast cancer comes from the hereditary genes. The other 90-95% of us just get it without rhyme or reason. Women get it, men get it, people of all ages get it. So spread the word and encourage the people you love to be proactive!

That being said, if you do feel a lump don't freak out. The vast majority of lumps found are absolutely nothing. I know so many women who felt a lump or had mammos or bibopsies :) that ended up being nothing. The point is that they checked it out. If you would like more information about finding a lump go here.

Also, if ever you need someone to talk to about any of this please don't hesitate to email me. I am not a doctor and I can only speak from my experience but I promise to give you nothing but honest answers or a listening ear.

Now go touch yourselves! Oh, and tell your friends to touch themselves too!

It's Boobie Time!

It's Breast Cancer Awareness Month!

Most of you already know that I am a breast cancer survivor. I know you've already seen this picture but I find its a good attention grabber for the cause. In fact, I took it for that reason. I took it knowing I would put it up on my page last year when I did the Avon Walk. My friends and family have used it for things as well. I'm not shy about spreading the baldness! Not that I want you to be bald. You know what I mean.



For those of you who are new you can read the first installment of my diagnosis story here. If you want to catch up on more cancer posts you can find them here. Just remember the stories start with the most recent on the top so its actually backwards and I don't know how to fix it. :)

I'll be highlighting a few causes over the month but one really stands out to me. Have you wanted to help the fight against breast cancer but don't have the funds?

Well the Army of Women gives you the chance to make an incredible difference and does not involve monetary donations.




This is how the Army of Women works.

"Our revolutionary initiative has two key goals:

To recruit one million healthy women of every age and ethnicity, including breast cancer survivors and women at high-risk for the disease, to partner with breast cancer researchers and directly participate in the research that will eradicate breast cancer once and for all.

To challenge the scientific community to expand its current focus to include breast cancer prevention research conducted on healthy women."

Basically, they pair women with researchers. Now we aren't talking about turning you into a human guinea pig. The Love/Avon Army of Women will send you out an email about a research project, what it will involve and what the requirements are. If you are interested you can email them back and they will give you all the details.

Some will involve questionaires, some will involve sending in samples of products from your environment, some will involve giving blood. You get to decide. You can say no to every single one of them if you want. But one might just come along that might pique your interest.



I love that there is a strong emphasis on prevention and not just treatment. This program is allowing researchers with low funds and lack of appropriate participants to break ground in their cancer studies.

Dr. Love is an amazing woman who has changed the way the world has seen and dealt with breast cancer. She was the first doctor to link bc to female hormones and has continued to be a pioneer in research.

So, if you are interested be sure to check out their website or go ahead and join here.

Support those boobies!

I was cheated, I was robbed! (by chemo, that is)

This picture accurately portrays my thoughts on this topic.

I really considered myself a glass half-full type of girl during the whole cancer process. You hand me lemons, I'll make lemonade.

When the doctor said chemo I thought to myself... Well, maybe I'll get a jump start on the diet I've been putting off.

When we talked about surgery I thought... Well, maybe I can get a boob job while we're at it. I mean really not only were my boobs a tiny size A but they were defective. Defective I tell you!

When the doctor said I would lose my hair I thought about how nice it would be to not shave my legs.

Well class, today I tell the story of the injustices of cancer, of chemo and of being a hairy woman with who can pack on the pounds like the.

Prior to starting treatment I had worked as a restaurant manager for several years. Oh how I loved to manage my favorite restaurant. I loved eating dinner there every night. I loved eating lunch there every day. I loved the cocktails after work. I loved the 1 am meals at fantastic local restaurants. I loved gaining 20 lbs. Wait, scratch that. I did not love gaining 20 lbs. I'm 4'11" for goodness sake.

So when I started chemo I thought I could get a jump start on that weight loss. I looked forward to it. Oh how very wrong I was. I did not lose weight. Between the steroids and the treatments themselves I managed to gain 10 lbs. I was now fat, bald and sweaty. Yes, sweaty. The hot flashes deserve their own posts, don't you think? This is what you have to look forward to. Posts on hot flashes!

Oh but I did not despair my friends. There was the gift of hair loss. Now you know that when I lost my hair it wasn't pretty. It was.... mangeful. Thats my new word. Mangeful. As much as I loved my long locks I looked forward to the loss of body hair.

I blame my mother and her Puerto Rican heritage. My whole life I've been plagued with hairiness. If I were to want silky smooth legs I'd have to shave twice a day. Unless of course I got the chills or sneezed. Then I would have to shave again. The irony is that I'm marrying a man who has very little body hair at all. He has smooth legs, the jerk. I'm harrier than my fiance. Its so unfair.

Needless to say I was really looking forward to that area of hair loss. But you know what? I did not lose the hair on my legs. I had to shave my legs the many months I walked around with a bald shiny head. How can that be?! I thought my fast growing leg hairs would fall prey to the equally wonderful and horrible chemo.

I was cheated and robbed! Why?! Whhhhhyyyyyy?! ~shakes fist in air~

And that concludes my story of why cancer sucks. Deep thoughts on Spontaneous Clapping.

Any questions?

A Stranger in an SUV

About 2 years ago I was in the midst of my chemo experience.

I was bald but lucky enough to keep most of my eyelashes and eyebrows during that time.

I had a wig I wore at work. I never really felt comfortable in a wig. It didn't feel like the real me. So mostly I was bald or wore a hat or bandana.

Sometime around Christmas 2007 I was sitting in traffic at the "orange crush".

The orange crush is a horrid spot where 3 freeways merge and you feel like you may be destined to live out your days sitting there, creeping, gas, brake, gas, brake. As a frequent commuter I have a pet peeve regarding the courtesy of drivers in traffic.

You see, I wait patiently to merge. OK, not always, but semi-patiently.
My pet peeve is when someone tries to bypass the waiting line by driving up the side and forcing their way in ahead. Oh it happens. They just make up their own lane. Don't do that!

Didn't your momma teach you not to cut in line?!

I'm serious, it makes me mad.

I'm sorry, I'd like to take a moment for some deep breaths, possibly some chanting. OK, I feel better now.


On this particular day I had been sitting in traffic for about 40 minutes.

It was just starting to move when I noticed a white SUV creeping up the side.

What the heck is he doing?! We just merged into this lane and now he wants to get ahead of me?!

I turn to look at him and he is smiling.

Why is he smiling?!

And then something totally unexpected happened.

He gave me a thumbs up.

What is going on here?

He gently touched his head.

As a reaction I touched mine. I suddenly remembered I was bald.

I remembered that people notice a bald head.

I remembered that its a sign of what is going on in my life.

All this was just to give me a thumbs up?

I smiled back. I was still surprised.

He gave me another quick thumbs up as he pulled back into line.

A minute later I lost him in the sea of vehicles heading home.

I laughed, I clapped, I cried a little bit.

This man, this stranger in a SUV, saw me and wanted to show his support.

On a busy freeway, in the frustration of gridlock he looked over at me and thought of a gesture that would say "Hey good for you for rocking the bald head" or "You can do this, you can keep going" or "Whatever you are up against, people you don't even know are behind you"

I wish I had understood sooner what he was doing.

I wish I could have touched my heart to let him know what that thumbs up meant.

In reality I probably had more of a confused, blank look.

I like to think that he caught a glimpse of me beaming as he pulled back.

Wherever you are sir, I still think of you.

I will always remember the look on your face.

I will always remember the simple thumbs up you gave me and the huge impact it had.

Thank you.

The Lint Roller: Ground-breaking Cancer Technology

OK people, I'm all about cutting edge discoveries that aid in dealing with cancer and the effects of cancer treatment. I'll be telling you more about my personal discoveries and the people who use them in just a short while.

First a little understanding of hair loss during chemo. Chemo is a nasty drug that aims to kill those nasty cancer cells. Unfortunately, chemo doesn't descriminate and tends to kill a variety of cells. It attacks cells that grow rapidly, like cancer cells and hair cells. Judging by my ability to grow a 5 o'clock shadow 20 minutes after shaving my legs, I am not surprised I lost my hair.

I was expecting the hair loss and I was OK with it. What I wasn't expecting was to look like a dog with mange during the process. I thought it would fall out evenly. I was wrong. Because I'm here to give you my experience with cancer, because in this sense I have no shame, because I find these pictures funny and endearing, I'm showing them to you. These were taken on a different day in a different place but they are quite pretty!



After the initial hair loss and shaving of the head I was left with this. My hair was short and patchy. One night a few weeks later my mom and I were in my North Hollywood apartment (I really loved this apartment and can't find a single photo of it). I was lint rolling all the little wayward hairs off of my shoulders and complaining loudly about how I just wanted it all gone. "Oh my God, this is so annoying, I just want to be bald. At least when I'm bald I can go around being bald. But this is just weird."

As I changed the paper on the lint roller the light went on. Of course, why didn't I think of this earlier?! I ran the lint roller across the top of my head and looked happily at the paper full of hair. You see, the hair was ready, it just needed a little help. I couldn't even feel anything, it was coming out so easily. Certain hairs were meant to stay and so they did, but others were practically leaping off my head.



"Mom look at this!" And so our night began. My mom sat on the couch and I sat on the floor between her legs as we watched Nanny McPhee and she did my hair. It was probably the type of thing we've done countless times before. Its a scene that plays out between mothers and daughters around the world.



Only on this particular day we just so happened to be removing what was left of my hair. We laughed at the absurdity of it. We rotated between lint rolling my head, rubbing the little patches to loosen the hair and grasping it in our fingers to see which ones came out and back to lint rolling. In the end we were able to rid of most of the patchiness. It would be a few more weeks until I was completely bald, but I felt much more comfortable. In the end we had a waste basket full of lint roller papers covered in hair. Gross! Eeeew! Eeek! No doubt I've traumatized some of you :)

It was a good night.

Spanakopita! You hungry?


I love B in the background- so obviously traumatized by my appearance. :)

Its a Cancerversary!

No, I don't have a tattoo of a pink ribbon on my head. But, if ever I find myself bald again, I will get a head tattoo. But lets hope that situation doesn't come up.

Not that I didn't look dashing bald. Don't I have a nice round head?

So, a cancerversary (in my world) marks time as a survivor and other various milestones. It can be one week of surviving chemo, a year from diagnosis, a month from surgery, whatever. I celebrate things all the time! I think we should celebrate something at least once a week. And I like to celebrate with chocolate.

So what cancerversary is it today? Its 1 year since I finished IV treatment! After an entire year of IVs, this was a big deal.

When I first started the story of my diagnosis of breast cancer I wanted to list all the reasons why I am so incredible lucky. Hence the reason I named it Call Me Lady Luck.

But then the story of the actual diagnosis took 3 different posts. And then I went out to dinner. And then I remembered I was supposed to be planning a wedding. And then I got caught up buying our wedding bands. And then I was driving home and remembered that I had a point.

The point is that I was and am very, very lucky. Why am I lucky you ask? OK, you didn't ask but its my cancerversary and I will bore you if I want to.

I am lucky that the female problems that plagued me in college happened to pop up again in 2007. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have gone to the doctor until close to a year later.

I am lucky that my Obgyn was lame and told me I didn't have said feminine problem. (Sorry guys but at least I'm not gettin' all graffic-like) If she hadn't, than I wouldn't have gone to the clinic. TMI warning: Who ever thought my life would be saved by a yeast infection?

I am lucky that the clinic doctor was amazing and on top of it and cautious. If they hadn't decided to treat every woman the same regardless of age, I could have been considered too young to worry about sending to a mammo. I had my mammo 13 years before the designated mammo age.

I am lucky I had people tell me not to listen to my Obgyn. Thank you mom.

I am lucky I have incredible doctors. Thank you HB Clinic, UCLA and St. Josephs. I am lucky that someone cancelled a surgery and I was able to get my lumpectomy weeks before my original schedule.

You see, my cancer was aggressive and in the last month or so it was doubling in size every couple of weeks.

I am lucky in so many ways. If I hadn't gone to the doctor when I did there is a very good chance that by the time I felt it (since I rarely did self-exams), it would have been beyond the point of curing. When the lump was first found I couldn't even feel it and 8 weeks later I was stage 2.

I am lucky I had an awesome support system and I have met (in person and online) so many incredible people. I am lucky that the experience changed my life in all the most amazing ways.

I am lucky I don't have a wrinkly scalp or incredibly mishapen head. Lucky, blessed by God, one with the universe, whatever sinks better with you, well I gots it.

Now, in honor of my cancerversary I kindly request that you all go off and Feel Your Boobies.

Don't argue with me. Just do it. Feel your boobies. Feel someone else's boobies. Get their permission first though. I don't want any law suits on my hands. Well, have you done it yet? Tell everyone its a favor for a friend. Its a free public service, this boobie feeling.

Oh and celebrate with me today! There has to be something for you to celebrate... as if boobie feeling wasn't enough.

2 Letters & a Muffin Top (the diagnosis- finale)

Holy sh*it I'm going to get diagnosed with breast cancer.


I call my mom and explain the conversation I had with Voice of Doom. To be honest I can't remember exactly what she said. She asks me if I wanted her to go with me and I say no. I was going to be fine, I can handle it. But I'll come by after the appointment.

When I tell B he is softly supportive but not overly worried. After all, it could be anything. I tell Chrissy and a friend Marie who are at work with me. Marie, the sweetheart that she is, gives me a list of explanations that don't include cancer. I feel much better but on the inside I know. I knew the way you know about a good melon. What?

Then I realized what will happen if my mom doesn't come with me. I will have to go home and look my parents in the eyes and tell them I have cancer. And they will wonder how on Earth this can be happening. They will think about my paternal grandpa and my maternal grandma and what is was like as they fought and lost. I can't even imagine how it feels to have your child be in harms way like this. I don't want to see the pain on their faces. So I call her back and say I will pick her up on my way in.

~Fast forward to the doctors office~

We were in the office waiting. I'm not positive how long but I'm pretty sure it was close to 302 hours... give or take 15 minutes. I was sitting on the chair/table and mom was standing off to the side just slightly behind me.


I wonder how this is going to feel. Will I freak out? How long until the panic sets in?


And then She came in. Was she a doctor? A nurse? A volunteer? She was wearing the white coat but something seemed wrong. Hmmmm, what was it? Oh wait, I know! Its her inappropriate manner of dress! Her coat was open, wide open and underneath she wore jeans 2 sizes too tight and a shirt 2 sizes too small. Her shirt was high enough to expose her midriff and all its contents. Behold the Muffin Top.


Now I'd like to say that I understand the existence of the muffin top. Believe me, I really, really do. I've worn the too tight jeans and I know the spare tire feeling. But in a professional setting do you not agree the muffin top should be covered?

Oh my GOD! This woman is going to tell me the news that changes my life and all I can see is her muffin top.

I glanced over to make eye contact with mom as if to say.. Do you see this?! But she was focused and waiting for answers. As the doctor/nurse walks over I try hard not to stare at her belly button. But in my mind I can recall it perfectly. Don't ask me why I was so fixated on this. In fact, it was the last thing I remember being focused on before I heard...


"I don't know what else to say you have cancer"


The verdict was in. Delivered by the muffin top in one run-on sentence that lingered in the room. It was echoing in the room. "I don't know what else to say you have cancer"


My first thought? How am I going to tell B?


It took me a second to realize the doctor/nurse was talking to us. "Do you need a tissue?" "Do you need to sit down?"


I heard an odd sound behind me and realized it was mom. She was trying not to cry and she was leaning against the table. She sat down and the nurse handed us tissues.


I'll have to spend more time thinking about this because I remember very little about what happened after. I asked what the next step was. We made conversation as they wrote down references for doctors. Earlier in the week they had told a 16 year old girl she had breast cancer. 16. How do you deal with this kind of craziness in high school?


We got back to the house and I paced the sidewalk while making calls. We have very bad reception in the house so this was the logical thing to do. I really didn't want to be inside when mom called dad at work. I tried to formulate in my head what I would say on my phone calls. I still had the tissue in my pocket in case of mental breakdown.


How do people in the movies do this? Have I read any books that have characters who tell people they have cancer? Nothing. Think. Think. Think. Should I even call everyone now? I'm going to ruin everyone's work day.


A little background: I am the baby of my family. Seriously, the baby. I am 10 years younger than the youngest sibling and 17 years younger than the oldest. So I grew up with siblings/caretakers/second parents. Things like this just don't happen to the baby.


The conversations I had were such a perfect representation of my siblings. It just completely mirrored their personalities and I laugh when I think about it. All the conversations started with a series of "No way" or "Seriously" or "You're kidding". I called my oldest brother who told me to lean on him no matter what. He wanted to make sure I understood he would be there for me. Then there was the conversation with my other brother. I couldn't even tell you what we talked about because we were on the phone for like 30 minutes. We talked about the lady who lived down the street from him who had breast cancer. We talked about how young I was to be diagnosed. We talked about what kind of treatment I might have to have. It was kind of like having any conversation. Even then I thought it was funny how we casually chatted. Don't get me wrong, he was concerned but neither one of us were overly emotional.

Looking back there were two conversations that stand out. Telling my sister, Debbie and telling B.

I knew my sister was going to be a hard one because she had lost a friend to breast cancer months earlier. She saw first hand how ugly things could get and it was still fresh in her memory.

Debbie: Hey!
Me: Hi, I just got back from the doctors. I had a biopsy done a week ago..
Debbie: And.....
Me: And I have breast cancer.
Debbie: Nuh uh.
Me: Uh-huh
Debbie: No way.
Me: Yeah.
Debbie: Are you serious? ~voice starts to crack~
Me: Yep, I have breast cancer.
Debbie: Oh my God ~sniffle, shaky inhale, sniffle~
Me: ~eyes tearing up~
Debbie: But you're not going to look good all bald!
Me: OMG I know! How weird is that going to be!

The conversation went on from there. We discussed important matters like... what if I have a grossly misshapen head? And how I once knew a guy who we thought had wavy hair but who really had a wrinkly scalp. We talked and we laughed. I can honestly say that we laughed through the entire experience. Oh there were hard times and tears were shed but there was always laughter.

And then there was breaking it to B.

B: Hi!
Me: Hi. Um, what are you doing right now?
B: I'm in the car with __.
Me: Oh, I can call you back later.
B: No, no thats OK.
Me: So, I just got back from the doctor.
B: Yes?
Me: I have breast cancer.

B: Oh my God we have cancer.

It came out like a whisper, soft and sweet. And then I smiled. We had a short conversation and I told him I had to call my siblings to let them know. But what I really remember from that conversation is that I knew we had to be together. I knew I loved him. We'd been separated for a few months just prior to this and any confusion that was there before had vanished. OK, I knew how much I loved him when he was first thing that popped into my head after being diagnosed. But the man was right there with me. I melt into a puddle just thinking about it. It was the we that made the difference. Two little letters changed the day.

The Bobopsy (the diagnosis- part 2)

I love that scene! Back to the diagnosis story...

I got dressed and made an appointment for the several weeks later. But, I had the paper they gave me staring at me on the living room table. Results inconclusive. Needed: Ultrasound Guided Core Needle Biopsy- L Breast. Solid Mass.

In the meantime my mystery lump had grown to the point that I could feel it. Thus began the obsession. I was feeling it all the time. It became a habit in which I absent-mindedly would be poking and probing my left breast. This is not normal and can be problematic when you manage a restaurant or go shopping or ever leave the privacy of your own home. Its weird but people don't take well to public fondling.

My parents and I took a trip to Ireland (which is a magical place, by the way) and I continued my vigilance over the lump. There was a point when I got nervous because it was becoming painful. Then I realized it was from my extensive prodding. I left it alone for half a day and when I couldn't help it anymore I felt it again. This time it felt different. I was trying to ignore the babble on the bus as we were traveling to the next hotel and I was copping a feel under my jacket.

I think it feels different. I think its going away. Nope, it feels like its getting flatter. This must be a good thing. Maybe it will just go away on its on.

At this point I tell my mom that the lump is changing. Her response was "Thats not a good thing, they aren't supposed to change." Her facial expression remained calm but I wonder now if she was already losing sleep.

Oh. Maybe my prodding is making it angry. I will not touch it until tomorrow. Don't do it. Don't touch the lump. You can do this. Leave it alone. Baby steps. Baby steps to the hotel. Baby steps onto the elevator... babysteps into the elevator...

Shortly after the trip it was time for the Core NEEDLE Biopsy. My mom drove me in just in case I was severely traumatized by the whole ordeal. The doctor had explained the process and it seemed fairly simple. The excrutiating part was the time in between changing into the gown and seeing the doctor.

It started with 10 minutes next to a woman who was a bundle of nerves. I was relatively calm going in and she couldn't stop talking about how terrified she was to be called back for an ultrasound. I sat there repeating the information I just just read in the binder on the table. It was statistics. Out of the x women who have a mammogram only x need an ultrasound. Out of x women who need an ultrasound only x need a biopsy and so forth. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was on to the bobopsy phase. When she asked I told her I was there for a mammogram. As the nurse called her name she looked at me with panic in her eyes. I squeezed her hand. I wonder how she is. Are you out there? Are you OK?

As the nurse came in the nerves started. I couldn't believe how nervous I was when she left the room for the doctor.

I can't do this. Where did she go? How long do I have to wait here? They are going to stick a needle in my boob. MY BOOB! A NEEDLE! What if I just leave? What if it hurts? My heart is going to burst out of my chest. Thats it, I'm outta here.


She popped in as my head was lifting off the table. Did I really think I was going to just run out of the office? She gave me a soft smile. That was when Dr. Colonel Sanders came in. OK, maybe it wasn't Colonel Sanders.. because this man looked older and more...rickety is what popped to mind. Not too steady. But he did remind me of Colonel Sanders. Why Mr. Colonel Sanders, I didn't know you were a doctor!

Oh my God. What is this all about? Why is he so shaky? Someone is going to give him a needle to aim at me?


I looked at the nurse. She gave me a reassuring pat. He said hello and started explaining what he was doing. This is a good time to explain one of the problems with nerves and breast cancer. You see, when I get nervous my breath quickens. The problem is that they are working on your chest. They can't very well do their job if you are heaving away like you just ran a marathon. So, they tell you to control your breathing and be as still as you can. Of course, the moment someone says, please keep your breathing steady, you simply forget how easy it is to breathe. I'll go into this more someday when I tell you about radiation.


There I am topless, lying on a table with my left arm up on my forehead, trying to remember how I managed to breathe regularly before this moment. To my left is Dr. Sanders and to my right the Ultrasound screen. This is both fascinating and terrifying. I can see the tumor on the screen. Unfortunately, since the lump was on the left and my arm needed to be up I was facing the screen. They use the screen to guide the needle in and at that point in my life I just couldn't watch the needle probing the unidentified object in my boob. I squeezed my eyes shut. I gripped the blanket with my right hand that was suddenly sweating. It is 22 degrees and I am sweating.


Dr. Sanders starts his one-sided conversation in which I lay, exposed, eyes clenched and he talks me through the procedure.


First I'm going to give you a local anesthetic. You'll feel a little sting.

Yeah, I know what that- holy crap that stuff burns. I can actually feel it spreading. Ouch, Huh, its not that bad.... and its going away.

Now I'm going to make a tiny incision next to this little mole over here.

Oh my God! Its happening! Here it goes!

And now I'm going to get the biopsy needle to insert.

Wait... did he do the incision already? I'm such a dork. Thats what anesthetics are for.

I'm going to insert the needle.

Can he not say that word? Lets ban the word needle.

I can guide it into the mass because I can see it on the screen. You can look if you like.

I'm going to ignore that comment. But I'll smile like I'm not screaming inside. Just another day. I'm totally comfortable. Yep, calm and relaxed. See, look, I'm breathing. Ugh, what is that aching feeling?

This is when the nurse says, "Dawn are you OK? Do you feel something?"

And I say "Um, I'm fine, its just an aching feeling."

Her response? "Well, maybe we should just give the anesthetic some time to sink in."

Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. Not that it really hurts but I would pretty much rather just be knocked out completely.

And Dr. Sanders starts again.

I'm into the mass and I'm going to take a tiny sample of the mass through the core of the needle.

And then it was silent. I may have stopped breathing.

CLICK!

Cheese and Rice! What the heck was that!

That was the sound of the sample being taken.

Now that was something he could've given me a heads up about. Scared the sh*t out of me. it was so quiet the clicking sound may as well have been someone setting off an alarm.

After this they simply stuck a butterfly bandage on it and sent me out. I put on a happy face for the scared women in the changing room. By the time I saw my mom in the waiting room I was shaking. Was I cold? Was I tired? Was it the anesthetic? I didn't feel nervous.

On my way out the front desk told me we would find out the results at the clinic in a week or so.

Really, in the next week I didn't dwell on it much. I was managing a restaurant that took up 60 or so hours a week. I didn't have time to mope. There was a lot going on. I had some bruising on my breast and it was tender. I was told no heavy lifting on that side.. which just meant no extensive bussing of tables.. which was fine by me.

That Monday I called to find out the lab results and the office was closed for Memorial Day. Now that it was back in my mind I needed to know the answer. I called the next morning and the woman on the phone told me they absolutely cannot give results over the phone. They will mail me a copy of the results form saying everything was fine. I should receive the form by the end of the week.

At this point I call my mom and complain. I walk over to my friend Chrissy and complain. She agrees that its a load a crap to wait this long for results. I call B and complain.

An hour later the phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Voice of doom: Hello is this Dawn?
Me: Yes it is, may I ask who's calling?
Voice of doom: This is ____ from the Huntington Beach Community Health Clinic.
Me: Oh, OK.
Voice of doom: The doctor would like you to come in for your results.
Me:
Voice of doom: Are you available to come in today?
Me: Today?! Um, no I'm not. I'm at work and I live over an hour away so I can't just run by.
Voice of doom: Can you come by first thing tomorrow?
Me: Sure. Can someone talk to me over the phone?
Voice of doom: No, we would like to speak to you in person.
Me: Oh, OK.
Voice of doom: We'll see you tomorrow morning.
Me: bye

(to be continued)

Part Three: 2 Letters & a Muffin Top

Call me Lady Luck (the diagnosis- part 1)

The first thing everyone wants to know is how I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. Every time I tell this story I am reminded of how incredibly lucky I am... seriously.

It was April of 2007 and I went to the obgyn for something unrelated to any breast issue. They did the standard breast exam, told me I was fine and sent me on my way. I was sure they were wrong about the issue I had gone in for, so I stopped at the community health center by my parents house.

I remember the doctor going over the same spot on my left breast several times. "Do you feel this here? It might not be anything but I'd like to make an appointment for you to have a mammogram."

OK, I thought. How weird, I'm only 27, I've never had a mammo before. What is she feeling? I don't feel anything. I have no idea how long its been there because I rarely do a self-exam and even if I did I couldn't feel what she is trying to point out.

I went home and told my mom and she had that shocked Oh-my-God look. I was surprised by this because I wouldn't consider her overly worrisome. Perhaps it was the maternal instinct kicking in.

At that point I made another appointment to go back to my obgyn. I repeated what the doctor at the clinic suggested. Now this is a very highly recommended doctor I had. She spent a great deal of time with me and seemed very thorough. I trusted her. So here I was back on the table. She laughed as she went over the left breast. "Please tell me they didn't find something in this breast. You are young, you have very dense breasts and there is nothing out of the ordinary here. Don't waste your time or money going to that mammo."

I felt triumphant. I hadn't been losing any sleep over it but I thought my mom would be glad to hear the news. But she didn't seem all that relieved. "I don't know Dawn, you already have the mammo appointment, you might as well just go."

Sigh. All these appointments are such a nuissance. Little did I know I would spend the better part of 2 years back and forth between them.

In the waiting room I watched woman after woman leave the office after being told they would be contacted with results. But after my mammo they asked me to sit back down...and not to change.

I thought, Ugh, I have somewhere to be and this office is freezing. Why do they keep these offices so freezing? Please relax while you place your freezing breast on our freezing machine and hold your breath until you hear the beep. How can anyone relax in this climate?

The changing room in places like this are always interesting. Bunched up in below zero temperatures are women trying to appear relaxed as they sit topless, clutching the paper-thin wrap and flipping thru copies of Better Homes and Gardens from 3 years ago. In defense of this office they had a binder full of comics about mammograms and the general unpleasantness involved. It was very entertaining! It is where I first witnessed the manogram.

A very nice lady told me they would like to do an ultra sound. To be honest, this didn't worry me because I was young and had dense breasts and I could totally understand if they couldn't see anything in my little size A breasts. The alarm did start sounding when she left to get a doctor and they silently looked at the screen. They zoomed in, they took digital measurements and they left to go talk to someone else.

Oh geez, I hope I don't have to do anything involving needles. I can't believe they warm the ultrasound gel here. Thats so cool! I wonder what those buttons do. Can I put my arm down now? How long will I be laying here?

The doctor came in to tell me that they still weren't sure what it was. They wanted to do a Ultrasound guided Core Needle Biopsy. There it was... the needle word. Core NEEDLE biopsy.

I didn't know what it was but I was sure I wouldn't like it.

(to be continued)

Part Two: The Bobobsy

Part Three: 2 Letters and a Muffin Top