Tis the season to shop, eat, be with friends and family, but most of all: be thankful. I'm usually pretty aware of the things I have in my life that others may not. I was lucky enough to be born into a very loving family, in a country that, among its shortcomings, offers a relatively safe and comfortable place to live and be a young, working woman. I get to vote, choose who I marry (hey there, Jas), and at the end of the day, have the peace of mind that I don't have to worry about where my next glass of clean water is coming from, or how to cure my hunger pains. I live a pretty cushy life.
In the past I've completely taken my health and body for granted. After my scare with breast cancer, I have a whole new level of respect (and thanks) for my physical and mental health. I, unlike many other survivors, don't wake up every morning with my first thought being "I had cancer." Even when I'm flashing, I don't think "I'm hot because of the Tamoxifen, and I'm taking Tamoxifen because I had cancer." I don't think "cancer" when I stretch the muscles in my chest/arms or accidentally run into something because I don't have feeling in my boobs (it happens more than I'm happy to admit). When I do think about it, it still seems a little too crazy to comprehend. Like it was all a terrible dream, except I have the scars to prove that it wasn't (maybe I should seek therapy?!).
I'll never ever forget the fact that I had cancer, but I think it's time for me to move past it. I'm beyond happy to talk about my experiences if anyone asks; however, I feel that dedicating this blog to cancer is facing it in the wrong direction. I need to write about living life despite having cancer, to give others hope that they too can overcome the hurdles and come out the other side healthy, cancer-free, and yes, even thankful for the experience.
I plan to continue to update you fine folks of any support group meetings, doctor appointments, or general aches and pains I have (if I have to deal with it, you're going to know about it), but I'll also be writing about other things going on in my life. If that means I lose readers (all three of you), I want to thank you for sticking with me over the last five months. I hope I was able to raise the awareness you have about your personal breast health (health in general!), or encourage you to spread the word about early mammograms. It's never too early to detect and start treating breast cancer!
Many thanks; I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!
Cassie
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Friday, November 22, 2013
Better Things
Well it's been just over two weeks since I had my tissue expanders replaced and now it's time for me to really help people. A few months ago I was asked to be on a Breast Cancer Patient Advisory Counsel (PAC), and I said "yes" because in the beginning, my Care Coordinators Lynnae and Carrie (who I attribute much of my sanity during that time to) set me up with a girl in Boston, who had also been diagnosed at 28. She was finishing up her 5 years as I was starting mine, but it was beyond comforting to talk with someone who knew exactly how I was feeling (each woman who goes through breast cancer has their own, unique story, but I was able to relate to her better than the women I spoke with who were in their 50's and 60's when they were diagnosed). As soon as I hung up the phone with her, I knew I wanted to be that someone on the other line offering comfort. Being a part of this PAC is my way to improve the care that newly-diagnosed women are receiving.
My first meeting was last night, and it was kind of a "passing of the baton" meeting. Each year in the fall, a few new women join the PAC and the women who have already served their two years leave. We went over a summary of everything they accomplished over the past two years (The biggest and most important, in my opinion, was creating the Care Coordinator position. I cannot imagine not having Lynnae/Carrie to go to!) and I'm so excited to see what my group comes up with!
My first meeting was last night, and it was kind of a "passing of the baton" meeting. Each year in the fall, a few new women join the PAC and the women who have already served their two years leave. We went over a summary of everything they accomplished over the past two years (The biggest and most important, in my opinion, was creating the Care Coordinator position. I cannot imagine not having Lynnae/Carrie to go to!) and I'm so excited to see what my group comes up with!
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Weekend Update
I had a post-op appointment on Thursday with Dr. Heinrich, who was pleased with how my healing is coming along. The swelling I saw just a few days after surgery is almost completely gone (as is the bruising), and the best part of all: I can sleep on my side again! After 4.5 months of sleeping on my back, I've finally made it through a few nights of not waking up at once or twice during my (when I'm lucky) 7 hours. Also, Jason can finally spoon me again! It's glorious :)
Dr. Heinrich also cleared me for physical activity so my sister Rachel and I took a lap around Lake Como to celebrate (I was allowed to walk before, but we were short on time).
Teaser for later in the week: Patient Advisory Committee
Dr. Heinrich also cleared me for physical activity so my sister Rachel and I took a lap around Lake Como to celebrate (I was allowed to walk before, but we were short on time).
Teaser for later in the week: Patient Advisory Committee
Monday, November 11, 2013
Dramatic
As expected, the swelling has minimized significantly and the fears and disappointment I was feeling just a few days ago was all way over dramatic. I'm still not looking the way I'd imagined but it's crazy how far along things can come in just a few days.
The pain is more of just an irritation now, although bending over hurts (thanks gravity) and I'm still not supposed to lift anything over 10lbs or raise my hands over my head (making showering and getting dressed super fun). I'm at home again today so I'm going to see how things go just taking a few ibuprofen. The major pain meds put me into a fog and there's no way I'd be able to operate at work tomorrow while on them.
Aside from the "pain," I've been feeling kind of itchy, and not where the incisions are either. Just the skin, kind of where a tank top would hit. I thought maybe the skin was stretching but that doesn't make sense either - that's what the expanders were doing. I'm sure the nerves were irritated while Dr. Heinrich was in there swapping things and that's why I'm getting that sensation. I have to ask her about it at my post op on Thursday.
That's all for now folks, time for a nap :)
The pain is more of just an irritation now, although bending over hurts (thanks gravity) and I'm still not supposed to lift anything over 10lbs or raise my hands over my head (making showering and getting dressed super fun). I'm at home again today so I'm going to see how things go just taking a few ibuprofen. The major pain meds put me into a fog and there's no way I'd be able to operate at work tomorrow while on them.
Aside from the "pain," I've been feeling kind of itchy, and not where the incisions are either. Just the skin, kind of where a tank top would hit. I thought maybe the skin was stretching but that doesn't make sense either - that's what the expanders were doing. I'm sure the nerves were irritated while Dr. Heinrich was in there swapping things and that's why I'm getting that sensation. I have to ask her about it at my post op on Thursday.
That's all for now folks, time for a nap :)
Friday, November 8, 2013
Post-Op
I made it through; surgery Wednesday morning went fine (although we started an hour late; drivers in MN always forget how to drive on the day of the first snow, and Dr. Heinrich was stuck behind a few accidents on her way in). I woke up after the surgery super fast, ate a few graham crackers and I was on my way home. Jason got me set up in bed and I happily slept my way through the afternoon/early evening. My sister Rachel stopped by later in the evening and we chatted for awhile, and I was back to bed around 10:00.
With all of the excitement over the past days, weeks, months leading up to Wednesday, I'd neglected to really imagine what these first couple days with my new boobs would be like. I'd envisioned beautiful, perky new boobs that look great no matter what I'm wearing. When I finally got the "go" to remove the dressing yesterday, I had quite the reality check: they're swollen, still marked-up from the morning of the surgery (even after taking a shower), and are looking a little lumpy. They're much softer than the tissue expanders, but I almost prefer how they looked Tuesday to what they look like now :(
I'm trying really really hard to remind myself that the swelling is expected to last a few weeks; that somehow, under the "mess" I'm seeing, there's a very nice set of reconstructed breasts. I'm on the same meds as I was on for surgery #1, which means about 30-45 minutes of awake time to 3-4 hours of sleeping. I'm not sleeping through the night, and not because of the pain, but because I think my body is just done being rested.
I had a lovely parade of visitors yesterday and I felt great (although drugged) to be in their company again, but now today I'm feeling emotional; sad that things aren't looking the way I'd imagined. I don't want to do another surgery, but then I don't want to look like this for the rest of my life either. Keeping ice packs near me non-stop; I'm determined to minimize this swelling sooner than later.
With all of the excitement over the past days, weeks, months leading up to Wednesday, I'd neglected to really imagine what these first couple days with my new boobs would be like. I'd envisioned beautiful, perky new boobs that look great no matter what I'm wearing. When I finally got the "go" to remove the dressing yesterday, I had quite the reality check: they're swollen, still marked-up from the morning of the surgery (even after taking a shower), and are looking a little lumpy. They're much softer than the tissue expanders, but I almost prefer how they looked Tuesday to what they look like now :(
I'm trying really really hard to remind myself that the swelling is expected to last a few weeks; that somehow, under the "mess" I'm seeing, there's a very nice set of reconstructed breasts. I'm on the same meds as I was on for surgery #1, which means about 30-45 minutes of awake time to 3-4 hours of sleeping. I'm not sleeping through the night, and not because of the pain, but because I think my body is just done being rested.
I had a lovely parade of visitors yesterday and I felt great (although drugged) to be in their company again, but now today I'm feeling emotional; sad that things aren't looking the way I'd imagined. I don't want to do another surgery, but then I don't want to look like this for the rest of my life either. Keeping ice packs near me non-stop; I'm determined to minimize this swelling sooner than later.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
New Boobs Day
It's like waking up on Christmas morning (literally, it even snowed last night) - excitement has now beat out nerves in a 97% to 3% landslide. 1-2-3-GO!
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
November 5
It's the night before my second (and hopefully last) surgery; a day I've been looking forward to since I heard the dreaded "you have cancer" diagnosis from my surgeon. I'm finally here at the finish line; tomorrow's surgery is the last big step in getting rid of the cancer and getting me back to "normal." From here on out (God willing), the only thought of this experience will be the tiny little white pill (tamoxifen) I take each night before bed.
I went back and read some of my early blog posts and I'm so happy that I decided to write all of this down. Somehow I'd forgotten things, major things, that were a necessary part of the process (i.e. the dread I felt when telling my family and friends the diagnosis; the crazy sensation of drain tubes being removed, etc.). There's good and bad there - I don't want to forget all that I've been through because it reminds me of how strong I am, but I think time is softening the details a little (maybe a coping mechanism?). I have to say though - the time leading up to surgery #1 was way scarier than the time leading up to surgery #2. I'm not twitching right now, and I'm 91% calm and collected (the list of things to stress-clean tonight is much shorter than last time ha).
I've come a very long way and have been through hell. I hate that I know so much about the disease, that being pricked with needles has become routine, and that I'm part of a "club" I never wanted to join. I'm ready to not be terrified when wondering if the cancer will come back (something that might take years to get over); to not wake up in pain because I'd accidentally rolled onto my side in my sleep; to feel confident in my clothes again. I am so ready.
Cancer, you've been a very unwelcome shadow in my life for too long. You've ruined the plans I had for starting a family (right now, anyway), you've given me physical and emotional scars that will never go away and you've been a major contributor to an already terrible year. You've shown me paralyzing fear in the "ignorance is bliss" life I'd been living. Any tears I might cry will be out of joy at your absence; please never return.
I went back and read some of my early blog posts and I'm so happy that I decided to write all of this down. Somehow I'd forgotten things, major things, that were a necessary part of the process (i.e. the dread I felt when telling my family and friends the diagnosis; the crazy sensation of drain tubes being removed, etc.). There's good and bad there - I don't want to forget all that I've been through because it reminds me of how strong I am, but I think time is softening the details a little (maybe a coping mechanism?). I have to say though - the time leading up to surgery #1 was way scarier than the time leading up to surgery #2. I'm not twitching right now, and I'm 91% calm and collected (the list of things to stress-clean tonight is much shorter than last time ha).
I've come a very long way and have been through hell. I hate that I know so much about the disease, that being pricked with needles has become routine, and that I'm part of a "club" I never wanted to join. I'm ready to not be terrified when wondering if the cancer will come back (something that might take years to get over); to not wake up in pain because I'd accidentally rolled onto my side in my sleep; to feel confident in my clothes again. I am so ready.
Cancer, you've been a very unwelcome shadow in my life for too long. You've ruined the plans I had for starting a family (right now, anyway), you've given me physical and emotional scars that will never go away and you've been a major contributor to an already terrible year. You've shown me paralyzing fear in the "ignorance is bliss" life I'd been living. Any tears I might cry will be out of joy at your absence; please never return.
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