Tender Mercies

Life has a way of reminding us we cannot always control our circumstances. The plan was to have chemo on a Thursday, recover over the weekend and continue on with work and school the following week. Isn't it great when we try to make plans without actually understanding what the heck we're dealing with? As determined as I was to not let this cancer impact work, family and my efforts to graduate in May, I've found myself fairly humbled by my own ignorance this past week. As with most things in life, we do not personally realize how clueless we are until we experience situations firsthand.  

Being Tired: My chemo cocktail of Adriamycin & Cytoxan (AC) treatment itself was fairly bearable; it just felt like I had the flu. The nurses were awesome, the nausea was manageable with medications, saltines and ginger ale, the steroids made me bloated and puffy faced, and a shot of Neulasta to stimulate new white blood cells in the bone marrow the next day made my bones ache like I was eighty years old. Easy peasy, right? Not so fast lady. What I was not prepared for was the incredible level of exhaustion. This is something entirely different from being tired after having each of the kiddos or being sleep deprived when studying for finals... this is a type of exhaustion I have never encountered in my life. Forget the fever spikes, swollen joints and not being around others because of the high probability of picking up bugs... this is an entirely different ball game. Blood draws verified the chemo is doing it's job, but my body is not reproducing white blood cells fast enough. Soooo... What can I do, eat Wheaties? Drink protein mix? Nope; turns out there is nothing I can personally do to help my body catch up or mass produce white blood cells other than rest. Tim officially grounded me for the weekend and I guess it paid off because I finally have the energy to write something tonight.
Chemo Brain: This is a quirky and real thing. I watched it happen with my dad last year as he struggled to grasp his thoughts as they floated in and out of his mind. I saw his frustration as he attempted to express himself with words that wouldn't come. It is completely surreal to feel it happening to me. A silent prayer of appreciation to my dad; he made the best of it until the end and I feel him cheering me on from the other side... 'just relax Therese; it will come to you.' While attempting to work on my ten-page prospectus research paper this week, I had all my notes laid out, my outline, my paraphrased quotes...everything except that nothing I wrote made any sense. A tender mercy from my professor who reassured me that she's going to work with me on this and give me extra time. Maybe she saw in my prior work that I can actually be coherent, but for whatever reason, she is taking pitty on my foggy brain and I have decided to love her forever.
Other Tender Mercies of the Week: 
1) Holding the sweetest angel baby & spending time with Trea. My niece Kabria and her hubby welcomed sweet Emma to the world - how lucky am I to get to hug her before they move back to Rexburg next week and see my rockstar sister who stocked our freezer and reassured me I was not losing my mind. 
2) Kind words from sweet family and friends. Thank you for the cards (any mail that is not a bill brings euphoria) and small gifts of support; it means the world to know so many are thinking and praying for us. I completely stink at thank you cards... do emails count? I will try to remedy this weakness because my heart is filled with gratitude and people should know how much these small gestures are appreciated. 
3) Jake came home and we took some family photos before I start to lose my hair. Thank you Barb & Brynn! I will post them publicly eventually... I just need to savor a little. 
 4) Wiggin' out with Josh and Trea. Thank you to the American Cancer Society for the free wig trying-on session. Trying them on was the most depressing and fun thing I did all week and almost made up for the lady at the wig shop who told me I have an abnormally large head... or did she say I have a larger than average head? Either way, my head is big... I have a big freaking head. Who says that to someone about to lose all her hair? Trea tried to ease the blow by reassuring the lady it was because I'm so smart, but really, I just wanted to punch out that well-meaning lady and her iddy-biddy proportionately sized wrinkled-up head. So, yea, that thought is bouncing around in my mind.... which is apparently floating around in a melon of a giant sized head!  Here are a few photos: the Hermione Granger is totally my favorite. Just sayin'... 

5) Pew sitting with our entire posse last Sunday... words can not express. God grants us His tender mercy when we least expect it... sometimes it is when things seem grim... other times we receive these mercies like a flood washing over our hearts that all is right in the world. The trick is to humble ourselves enough to appreciate His sweet and tender mercies however they arrive... just savor them. I am not a scriptorian; never have been, but Ether 6:12 points out that humbling ourselves helps us receive these mercies. "... and when they had set their feet upon the shores of the promised land they bowed themselves down upon the face of the land and did humble themselves before the Lord, and did shed tears of joy before the Lord, because of the multitude of his tender mercies over them." I am so very blessed. Being tired, chemo brained and big-headed are completely irrelevant compared to the many tender mercies God has placed before us this past week. I am savoring each and every one of them.  
 

Step 3: Begin Chemotherapy and Commence Ramble

We began chemo today and sometimes we just have to laugh. It often helps when life is randomly funny. The best is when something strikes us as funny when we least expect it. Every so often, situations occur which make us wonder if life is a clean version of an SNL skit (rare occurrence) or if we are being punk'd. It is also completely possible that our minds are just warped enough (mine especially) that we often find humor in arbitrary circumstances – and we must say it makes us smile. 
 
Curious Reaction: Tim is allergic to Saint Alphonsus Hospital. The moment we walk in the door, his eyes start to itch, nose starts to run and/or stuff up, and we feel the need to stock up on free tissues. We walk out of the hospital and he is completely fine… hmm.

Abandoned Strangers: We were led down a long corridor by a nurse to prep me for the port surgery last week. There sat an older woman in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown, hair completely disheveled, with a quizzical look on her face... just sitting alone in the hallway. No one else was in the hall… no nurse, doctor, or custodian… and our nurse, who was busily chatting away, made no acknowledgement of the woman’s existence. I looked around, then smiled and nodded hello as we walked by, but received the stink eye in return, which was sad, but funny too. I made Tim promise to never forget me a hospital hallway; for all we know, this woman looked like me when she first arrived that morning.

Cactus Butt: As part of my pre-chemo medications today, we received a quick warning while the nurse casually injected a fluid she referred to as ‘Cactus Butt’ into my line – we failed to remember the actual pharmaceutical name because my backside suddenly felt as though I was sitting on pins and needles. It was hilariously awkward. Although this was not something covered in Tuesday’s chemo class, rest assured, even with the prickly rear-end, booming headache and other anticipated side effects we will experience over the weekend and the upcoming months, the actual delivery of chemotherapy was fairly tolerable. I think we can do this. We might be singing another tune by May or June, but for now, we can do this. We will receive approximately 18-chemo sessions over the next five months; 1 down, 17 more to go. We will also never look at cacti the same way again.     

Final Football Observation: When reflecting upon the recent NFL football season and excellent Superbowl (woot woot Broncos! If my Seahawks can't be there, the Broncos will do) we found the celebratory touchdown dances, quarterback superhero gestures and the rampant folding-of-the-arms-and-nodding-triumphantly-to-the-crowd after each tackle, to be quite elaborate this year. These guys are seriously practicing and/or receiving assistance from showmanship professionals… they are probably in front of their bathroom mirrors mastering moves for next fall as we speak. The talented performers often receive vast sums of money in exchange for accomplishing tasks included in their job descriptions; they are stoked, even when fined by the league. We will cut the swaggering players a little slack because working in the NFL means ‘Not For Long,’ but wouldn’t it be nice to see this type of enthusiasm displayed by lesser paid professionals as well? Personally, I would like to see Tim doing a happy dance after fixing an IT issue at Deloitte, or crowds applauding police officers after a DUI arrest, or teachers performing superman poses after educating a student about a valuable life skill, or chemo nurses spiking the empty IV bags to the floor while bellowing, “I’m #1!” after a patient’s session (undoubtedly forgetting the other ten people who helped make the chemo ‘score’ possible). We would love to see people we know bust a move (awesome 80’s phrase) and create elaborate celebratory dances for doing their daily tasks in the workplace, for these entertaining one-upmanship demonstrations are not just for NFLers anymore! This would be a great picker-upper when the side effects of chemo start taking their toll over the next five months. If you're in, feel free to email a short 10 second video with your triumphant celebration dance to twoozley@gmail.com. :)

We are blessed to see extraordinary people achieving incredible tasks every day without receiving any type of fame or fortune. We are thankful for those who serve others while doing their job with very little gratitude or fanfare from society… they and YOU are the real superheroes in life. Bust a move people!      

Woozley Week of Firsts

Mason’s first fender bender in the high school parking lot. Our first auto-body realizations that taillights can be super-glued back in place but large dents are not always fixable with a toilet plunger. It's not pretty, but it'll do.

First internet hack. My Instagram account was hacked by a porn star with ironically nice boobs. Thanks for rubbing it in 'Devon Lee'... your timing is impeccable. The Instagram account is officially deleted for now. 

First PET scan initial results. Woowee! We'll learn details about it next week, but for now they said it looks as if no other cancer is detectable other than what was previously diagnosed, so I can stop worrying about every little ache and pain throughout my body... those are just from getting old.  

First torture experience. I have determined that medieval torture devices have nothing on modern medicine. Yesterday's procedure was more involved than both the previous biopsy and MRI experiences and it was decidedly not what I anticipated. Rather than laying face down on an MRI machine with 'the girls' dangling freestyle, yesterday found lefty being squeezed in a compression-style vice grip. Have to admit I dropped a few swear words (like a sailor) when they tightened the crank. After what felt like an hour (realistically 10-15 minutes)... of holding perfectly still, biting my lip while muffling my sobs and trying to hum a song in my head while inside the MRI machine, I eventually made it out and was lucky enough to receive as many numbing shots as possible to the entire area for the biopsy. Note to self: If this procedure ever needs to be repeated, request the numbing shots prior to the vice grip torture treatment.

First triple negative. There are are many different 'sub-types' of breast cancer; hence each person, regardless of the size of tumor, stage, etc. is individually different. As with all else in life, the important thing is to not compare ourselves to others. The HER2 results came back negative, which means I am classified as being a triple negative breast cancer, which means that my tumor is estrogen receptor negative, progesterone receptor negative and HER2 negative. Roughly 15% of breast cancer patients are triple negative. The good news is that this type of cancer usually responds well to chemotherapy, the bad news is that I will need chemo for approximately five months. Bring it...

First port: Tomorrow morning we'll go in for the out patient surgery/port procedure. We should have results from yesterday's biopsy in a few days. I'm not sure if it will change anything in my treatment schedule, it was mainly to verify other areas in my breast that looked cancerous. Maybe it will change the type of chemo they use, but we will need to wait until our next appointment with the oncologist to find out. We meet with him prior to starting chemo next Thursday.   

Finally, the first song I found myself humming in my head over and over during the MRI, and actually many times in the past month, has been a serious comfort. So if you are feeling fearful, I strongly recommend, "You Make Me Brave" by Amanda Cook. It has filled me with peace & thought I'd share a simple video of it I found online http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGvqcjIZKTA&sns=em.
  

Step 2: Meet with the Oncologist

Our oncologist is a friendly man who wears a Disney lanyard. This reminded me that not all cancer patients are adults. As nice as he was, I felt a rush of gratitude that our children have never had to meet an oncologist. As an adult who's brain is swimming in a foggy sea of details, I can not imagine trying to explain this stuff to a child. We are SO very fortunate.

The oncologist joked that I had a 'deer in the headlights' look on my face. Which I imagine was similar to a school picture from 4th grade... (See attached) Doh! Yep... that was a pretty accurate depiction of how I felt. 

It was a lot to take in today; I guess this is really happening... deep breaths. The sooner we start, the sooner it will all be over!

The low down: We are STILL waiting for the HER 2 test results, which will determine the type of chemo, but it looks like I will start chemo treatments on Thursday, February 25th. In the meanwhile, I will undergo several other tests and procedures: PET scan, MRI Biopsy, port placement surgical procedure, chemo class, genetic testing. 


What, When and Why? 
PET scan: 2/10: For an inside look from the eyeballs to the knees = peace of mind.
MRI Biopsy: 2/16: They need to take another biopsy while I lay face down in a machine and 'the girls' dangle free style. Good times... 
Port Placement: 2/18: They will surgically implant a port near my collarbone on the right-side to make it easier to draw blood, give IV and chemo treatments without sticking me with a thousand needles over the next six months. Yes please! 
Chemo class: 2/23: Think of it as a 'what to expect when you're expecting' except with a chemo curriculum. Finally a class with no final exam!
Genetic Testing: 2/17: Just cuz.
Start chemo: 2/25: To shrink the tumor & battle the cancer cells. Just sing "Onward Chemo soldiers..." instead of Christian soldiers; it's got an upbeat and steady rhythm.  

So, as all can see, our calendar is filling up! I am grateful for two exams and a looming internship project as well. Studying helps keep my mind from wandering... and over-thinking about the alternative is no bueno. Small group communication, media literacy education, interracial communication theory and human resource management practices are fascinating topics! I would gladly preoccupy my mind with these topics rather than think about what is currently happening inside my body. Getting lost in an occasional Downton Abbey episode is lovely as well! Bring on the British elitists!

Finally, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who is praying for our family! We feel very uplifted by your kind thoughts, comments, prayers and messages. 

Super-Fast

Thank you to everyone who has forwarded their positive thoughts and prayers; we are humbled by your love and support. We are having a family fast on Sunday prior to chowing down during the Superbowl. It's like a Super-Fast! We are fasting and praying for clarity and peace prior to meeting with the oncologist Monday morning. Feel free to join us!
Go Broncos!

Step 1: Meet with the Surgeon

There is something reassuring in knowing details. Once we know what is going to happen, we can accept it and go forth. It is the not knowing that keeps you up at night. As someone who often flies by the seat of her pants, this is a fairly new realization for me. This is why people find out the sex of their baby or hire a financial planner... to plan ahead.

The appointment with the surgeon went well today. Dr. Preier might only be as tall as Ella and have ice cold hands, but she definitely knows her stuff. Tim and I really like her. We discussed several scenarios; she drew pictures, wrote down definitions and read my nonverbal cues when I didn't understand specifics. We feel we are in good hands. 

The low down: We are starting with chemo first to reduce the size of the tumor. We will meet with the oncologist next Monday and probably start the following week or so. The 3.1cm tumor is very close to the pectoralis muscle and is pulling it upward. Chemo should help reduce this pull of the muscle, which is what is causing the pain in my chest. She hopes it is just the pull that is causing the 'shadow' on the muscle images and that the cancer cells are not spreading. We have another MRI & biopsy in the next day or two so we can rule out another area that also looks suspicious in between the tumor and the nipple. We can not meet with the oncologist until we have these biopsy results because it will help determine the treatment.

We are also waiting for the HER 2 test results, which will determine the type of chemo that is used. We know the estrogen & progesterone receptors were negative, so if the HER is negative as well, then I will be classified as a triple negative, which would mean approximately 5 months of chemo, if it is positive we will have about 4 months. 

It is difficult to classify me as a specific stage. It depends upon: 
A) If the cancer has not spread to the muscle: Stage 2a
or
B) If the cancer has spread to the muscle: Stage 3a 
We will not actually know about the muscle until after the chemo and we see how it responds. Hopefully, the tumor will shrink and the muscle will go back to normal. For either stage 2 or 3 the treatment would be similar at this time, so we are not getting hung up on the stage thing. This is a number people use regardless of the differentials and it serves no purpose than to instill fear. I'm not biting because it serves no purpose in my recovery. 

Good news: As far as we can tell, the cancer has not spread to my lymph nodes. They will not know for sure until they do the surgery, take out a few lymph nodes and dissect them.  By then, the chemo should kill any cancer cells (including any that might have spread) so the process is more of a precautionary ruling out.

Radiation & Surgery: Please do not ask if I am getting a lumpectomy, mastectomy, double mastectomy or radiation because we have no idea. It all depends upon how I respond to the chemo over the next 4-5 months. The surgeon went through all the surgery options and we will consider all the facts and make the appropriate decision at the appropriate time. I get to keep 'the girls' for a little longer, which is fine by me.

Am I similar to Angelina? Maybe, but not in a way I would prefer. We will undergo some genetic testing to find out if I have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene mutations. With my sister's history of ovarian cancer when she was young and my mom's DCIS pre-cancer a few years ago, there is the chance I may carry the gene. This knowledge may effect our surgical decisions. 

Okay, that's it for now. We have a plan. I will let you know when chemo starts. 
For now, I am heading to class and then to Annee's BBall game. Go Capital Eagles! If they win tonight, they will go to the district JV championship!  Go baby Wooz! 

  

Preface

This blog site was originally created as a requirement for my English 201 class in the spring semester of 2013. I removed all of my old essays and assignments because they were fairly terrible and who wants to read research papers? 

Now it is January of 2016, I am graduating in May from Boise State University with a BA in Communication and minor in Nonprofit Management (Magna Cum Laude - woot woot). Although blogs are sometimes fun to read, I never saw myself as a blogger, but here we are... life requires me to blog once again. This time it is not for a class or a grade. This time the blog is more of a personal nature.

This little blog is going to be a place for me to update friends and family about our physical and mental health. I was recently diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. That's right folks, I won the random prize of having breast cancer. Yay for us! I say 'us' because this is not just about me, this is about my partner in crime and our five awesome offspring. This blog is for those I text or talk to everyday and others who receive annual Christmas cards. This blog is for loved ones who are in other states and want to know how we are doing, but are not sure what to say, when to call or what to do. So, this blog is about keeping everyone in the loop. 

Details: I found a lump in my left breast and after several tests, was diagnosed soon after. We meet with the surgeon on Monday, February 1st and we will come up with a game plan. 
What we know: The tumor is 3cm, but we will have to wait until our appointment to find out what stage we are in. Several things are fairly certain: 
1) I will need surgery.
2) I will need chemo.
3) This might impact this year's ski season... maybe.
4) I will continue working as long as possible because we need the monthly income.
5) I will continue my final semester of college and graduate in May. 
6) I do not particularly care for the color pink, so do not expect to see me wrapped up in pink ribbons anytime soon. 
7) I have never met a challenge I did not face head on... I am slightly stubborn this way. 

We are positive people and we plan to stay positive, but be warned, this blog might not be all faith and sunshine. We have no doubt that our Father in Heaven knows us by name and by the grace of our savior Jesus Christ, all things are possible. The atonement is real for each of us regardless of our religion. He stands knocking at the door and all we have to do is let Him in. God will not give us more than we can handle, so if He thinks we can handle this, then who are we to doubt Him? He will get us through this bump in the road and we will be stronger for it.

I will update this blog as often as possible and will try not to ramble. Please feel free to ask questions, comment or email me... unless you are a Debbie Downer... then feel free to keep it to yourself. :)   

Thank you for caring! - Therese