This Phoenix Will Rise Again

This Phoenix Will Rise Again

The fire and ashes are building all around me. I’ve been through this cycle of burning down and rising up from the ashes before, and I will do it again. Metastatic Breast Cancer. My current set-back.  As a breast cancer survivor, it’s not an unexpected hurdle. Sadly, I’ve witnessed my peers going through similar difficulties. All I can do is take it day by day, trust my treatment plan, and do my best to redefine myself once more.

I haven’t been feeling well for some time. I wrote it off to my slow recovery from the knee injury, and the fact that I have not been able to get back into a regular exercise routine. This spring, I generally felt weak and out of shape. About a month ago, my symptoms were getting noticeably worse. I had shortness of breath, and I developed wheezing and a cough. I have to say, this is the worst cough I’ve ever had. And I’ve had all forms of bronchitis, pneumonia, etc. This is definitely worse.

On July 23rd, I went to the ER with sharp pain in my ribs along with the severe cough and shortness of breath. I knew something was not right with my lungs. After a number of tests, I ended up being hospitalized overnight. They found that I have pleural effusion (fluid in the lining around both my lungs). They did a thoracentesis (stuck a catheter into the pleural cavity via my back- yes, I was awake…) on the right side to drain the fluid and sent it for analysis. The left side was more complicated. The fluid was loculated, hardened into multiple, fibrotic pockets, therefore, not free flowing nor able to drain. I was told at this time that surgery would be the only way to clear the gunk from my left side.

Over the next week or so, I did several other tests, X-rays, CT scan and blood work. And coughed and coughed. 

On August 1st, I saw my oncologist to try to make sense of the results and develop a treatment plan. The fluid in my pleural cavity (space around my lungs) contains cancer cells that had spread from my original breast tumor. All of the other scans are clear, though, and the cells have not formed any tumors that could be detected. Of course, ILC, Invasive Lobular Carcinoma is known for being extremely difficult to detect via scan, so there’s that grain of salt. 

The cells have changed slightly from the original tumor (ER/PR+HER2- to ER+PR/HER2-), but not enough for me to need to go through chemo again. My doctor will put me on hormone therapies (Ibrance and Faslodex) which attack the cells directly. In her experience with other patients, the cells are quite responsive to this therapy. 

Originally, my oncologist felt that the surgery would be too invasive, and that the treatment would clear up the fluid. However, at my next appointment, on August 9th, when I told her that the cough was becoming unbearable, she called the lung specialist. He advised that since the left side is loculated, it will be difficult for the hormones to get into the fluid to do their thing, and he recommended the surgery. With that, he and my oncologist called a lung surgeon immediately and I got in for an appointment the next day. Yay, the perks of having a dream team of connected super-doctors.

Yesterday, August 10th, I met with the lung surgeon to discuss a robotic surgery, called thorascopy (no, I will NOT be awake this time). He will make a small incision and insert a camera, and several other incisions for the surgical instruments that will be used to “break up” the pockets and scrape out the goo. After that, there are two possible outcomes. Either my lung will re-inflate and he will put talc in the cavity to make the lung stick to the pleural lining so that fluid can’t re-fill the cavity. Or, my lung won’t re-inflate, due to damage or tumors or other bad stuff, and he will need to leave a catheter (chest tube) in so that the fluid can continue to drain. This could be for a matter of weeks or months. I’m pulling for option one! But, at this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to relieve the cough and get the cancer cells out. If that means a chest tube, then that means a chest tube. Depending on the outcome, I could be in the hospital for one night or for several nights.

Wasting no time, surgery is scheduled for this Monday, August 13th. This is the least amount of time I’ve ever had to prepare for surgery. My pre-surgery nesting mode is kicking in to high gear, but I don’t really have the energy to do the things on my “to-do” list, so I’m just going to have to accept that stuff isn’t going to get done before surgery. Surgery and healing are my number one priority right now.

This is not a hurdle I wanted to face, but it is the hurdle in front of me, so I have no choice but to charge at it and jump it. Overall, I am very positive about fully recovering from this. Right now, I am laying low and resting as much as I can (and did I mention, coughing…). I look forward to getting some relief soon with the surgery. I will keep everyone updated as new info comes in. 

Cancer-versary, Take 4

Cancer-versary, Take 4

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Four years ago today, I heard the words “you have breast cancer” forever changing my life and challenging my limits. I’ll never forget that day. My time on this planet became more precious that day. My future became more fragile. Looking back brings a flood of emotion as I recall the experience of that moment in time, now altered by the lens of time and new perspective. I now count every year that passes as progress towards the goal of so many survivors – stay on the right side of the percentages to become a 5-year survivor, a 10-year survivor, and on and on.

Amongst cancer survivors, this date is known as a Cancerversary. There is some debate regarding which date truly represents a Cancerversary. Some choose the day they were diagnosed. Others choose the day surgery removed the tumor and they became cancer-free. Others count their anniversary as the day they complete all active treatment. For me, there are several dates that will forever stand as milestones on this journey. I mark January 31st as my Cancerversary, the day I learned of my diagnosis, a day I will never forget. I consider February 24th as my Cancer-Free Versary, the day I became cancer free with surgery. Other dates also are permanently etched into my mind; the first day of chemo, last day of chemo, end of radiation and active treatment, reconstruction surgery.

As much as I’d love to put it all behind me, being a cancer survivor has become a part of who I am. As time goes on, it tries to fall into the back recesses of my memory. Unfortunately, there are always reminders that pop into my day unexpectedly. My latest surgery is a big reminder. Pain is a reminder. Limitations on the things I am able to do is a reminder. The friendships I’ve made, the women who have touched my life in ways I never imagined, and, sadly, the friends I’ve lost serve to keep cancer’s ugly presence in my life.

January 31st never comes and goes without my thoughts turning to what cancer has taken from me, but also what it has given to me. Each year, when I reflect on the impact cancer had on my family, I’m thankful that I’ve been blessed with another year to watch my children grow. I’m thankful that my children have grown to be strong, amazing girls. I’m thankful for every year that I have with my husband. I’m thankful for each new adventure and the ability to plan new adventures for my future.

I honor this anniversary as a day that changed me deeply. I honor this day with respect and love for all of my fellow cancer survivors. Here’s to one more spin around on this amazing planet.

 

 

Perfect 10

Perfect 10

perfect 10

Okay, the image of Bo Derek from the movie “10” has nothing to do with this blog post, but it came to mind when I wrote the title, and I thought it was humorous, so there she is…. On a more serious note, this post is about re-defining what my own “perfect 10” means after the last few years and, of course, after turning 50 (loud and proud!!!) I’m also rounding out my surgery count at a perfect 10.

I didn’t learn from my last blog post, because the first big thing I’m tackling on my “50 after 50 List”, exactly one week after my 50th birthday, is surgery number TENcheck. I’m aiming for a perfect 10. I’m quietly hoping that the nice, round number 10 will symbolize my last time under the knife, but I’m not holding my breath. If I’ve learned anything in my 50 years on planet earth, it’s that life does not fit into the neat little, predictable boxes we may envision for ourselves. I won’t waste my energy worrying about how many more surgeries I might have in my future. I’m going to focus all my energy on the present surgery.

January 26th will be  surgery number ten. Guess what? It’s not the knee surgery you might have anticipated due to my recent accident, rather I’m back at it with the plastic surgeon in Chicago. A lot of people have asked me what this surgery involves. They say, “I thought you did that surgery last year.” It’s complicated, so let me try my best to clarify why I am traveling to Chicago once again for surgery – Andy and I are calling it a “destination surgery”. I know, it is exotic. We did the same thing last January, and Andy still doesn’t let me count it as a honeymoon.

I’ve had a year to recover from Phase One. I’m not gonna lie to you- I’m still not fully recovered. It was one of the tougher ones, and I’m a bit of a connoisseur. My recovery goal was to build my strength back up and get as close to “normal” as possible before Phase Two. My method for recovery was volunteering with Team Phoenix, and completing the Tri-Ing for Children’s Triathlon, and (almost) the J-Hawk Late Bird. As you know, I never made it to the Late Bird, thanks to my rendezvous with a Jeep.

By September, I was feeling strong and setting my sights on a late fall surgery, leaving time to come back in 2018 for the Madison IronMan. My surgeon in Chicago knew that I wanted to have surgery after the September 24th triathlon. Ironically, they called me just after my accident with an opening – October 13th…. With the Honor Flight on October 14th, there was no way I was going to take that date. Anyway, I needed more time to let my knee and bruising heal before going through more trauma (I’m guessing the fat grafting won’t be coming from my thigh with this bruising). It would have to wait. Next available date would be January 26th. I’m so good at hitting “new year, new deductible….

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ouch!

Now, I am more than ready to get on with it. So, back to what this surgery is all about. This is Phase Two DIEP Flap breast reconstruction. If you look back at my post called “Ninth One’s a Doozy”, you will get a little more background on Phase One of this process, which I completed a year ago. In a nutshell, Phase One is the major “relocating” of tissue from my abdomen to my chest to reconstruct a breast post-mastectomy. That surgery included a Lymph Node Transfer in an effort to control my Lymphedema. This is the reason I am traveling to Chicago for surgery. Very few surgeons do this surgery.

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Phase Two involves sculpting and tweaking to try to make my DIEP flap match my other implant side. I’m not going for a perfect 10. I am hoping to be done with the awkward 4.5 I’ve been since the double mastectomy, though. People “in the know” will recognize terms such as “Ken Doll”, “Dog Ears”, and “Fat Necrosis”. These are some of the unsightly, and painful issues that can be fixed in phase two. For more on that, go ask Dr Google (actually, don’t! I just did a google images search, and it ain’t pretty). The fat necrosis is the worst. It causes me pain every day. The other stuff is just embarrassing in a locker room.

Phase 2 will also involve a lymphovenous bypass in my arm as a further attempt to alleviate the swelling caused by my lymphedema. It involves micro surgery in my arm to re-route the lymph vessels into the veins, so that the veins can carry the excess lymph fluid out of my arm. Sounds pretty cool, in theory. I’ll let you know how it feels next week.

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “wish me luck….no….wish my surgeon luck-I’ll be sleeping.”

50 After 50

50 After 50

I’ve been working on a “50 after 50” list for over a year now. I suppose you could call it a bucket list, but I’m not planning to kick the bucket any time soon, so I prefer not to use that term. I’m keeping a list of fifty big things that I want to achieve after I turn 50 years old. My original idea was to do all fifty things in my 50th year on this planet, which would have been an amazing accomplishment, but what’s the fun in rushing. I’m here for the long haul. I am going to aim high and enjoy each and every experience on my list. Today I hit that 50 year milestone (hooray!!) That means it’s time to start checking things off my list.

My kids tease me, saying that I don’t understand what a bucket list is supposed to be. This is perhaps because I sometimes joke around, saying things like, “Cancer – I can check that one off my list”, “getting hit by a car-check”, and “one more surgery-check that off….” I know that a bucket list is supposed to be the things one wants to do during one’s life. I realize it should not contain “things that could have knocked me off”. Yet the way I look at it, all of the things we experience in this life add to who we are and what we are capable of. I’ve faced things that could have killed me, but didn’t. That’s a big deal. So, as much as I would prefer to not have to check these things off my list, they are the things that have made me strong. Moving forward, I’m certainly not going to intentionally put things on this list that might make me kick the bucket (though, I guess kite-surfing falls into that category). If they come up, I’ll check them off, nonetheless, and move on.

I thought of the idea for a 50 after 50 list after my first triathlon, back in 2015. Being a part of Team Phoenix taught me that I could re-define my life after some significant obstacles. Before that tri, I had feared that I would have to alter my goals, settle for less in life due to these setbacks. I know now that I can still aim high if I’m focused and work hard to reach my goals.

The first thing on my list is to complete an Ironman. I’m going to need to be in good shape to do some of the other things on my list, so why not start big. Ironically, the day I was riding my bike through Grant Park, I was thinking about the Madison Ironman. I was going to sign up for the 2018 race after my ride, until my ride ended unexpectedly. Then plans changed a bit. As it stands, it is uncertain if I will be able to do an Ironman, but I’m keeping it on the list for now. Maybe I’ll wait until I have a bionic knee.

In the name of keeping myself accountable, I’m going to share the first few things on my list:
◦ Complete an Ironman
◦ Show my daughters the beauty in this world
◦ Live in a warm climate
◦ Visit all of the National Parks
◦ Learn Spanish
◦ Hike the Inca trail to Machu Picchu
◦ Travel the World by Motorcycle
◦ Kite-surf
◦ Play Bass Guitar
◦ Scuba dive the Galapagos

That’s a glimpse of my list. Stay tuned to see the rest….

Honor Flight

Honor Flight

Dr Gordon had told me to call him if my knee still hurt after the swelling went down and he would order an MRI. After a couple of weeks, it was clear that my knee was not going to heal quickly. It was still swollen. I was wearing the brace, and struggling with pain, lost range of motion, and a limp. I was determined to be ready to walk all over D.C. with my dad for the Stars and Stripes Honor Flight on Oct 14th, but I wanted to know what was going on with my knee before the trip.
I had the MRI on Oct. 3rd and scheduled a follow up with the doctor on Oct 11th. Dr Gordon came in to the room and told me that my MRI “threw him for a loop.” He pushed and pulled on my knee again, just to make sure it still felt stable and that “he wasn’t an idiot” (his words). He said he never misses this type of injury upon physical examination. Yet, the MRI told him quite a different story from the physical exam. The MRI showed that I had a complete PCL (posterior cruciate ligament) tear in my knee. That can’t be good. I have experience with complete ligament tears (elbow and rotator cuff), and I know that they do not heal on their own. My first sinking though was, “one more surgery.” After all, the PCL is the strongest ligament in the knee. How can I get through life without a PCL? He did not suggest surgery, though. Instead, he said I should do six weeks of physical therapy to see if I can heal without surgery. That blew my mind a little.

While we were there, Andy took the opportunity to ask him about his foot. Right away, he told him that Andy had his least favorite injury. He said that if Andy was his patient, he would put him in a cast for 6 weeks. For now, he advised that Andy wear the boot 24/7. Andy decided to schedule his own appointment with Dr. Gordon.
Before we left, I asked him if my knee could handle a day of walking around D.C. He was fully supportive of the trip, and told me to thank my dad for his service.
By the 14th, I was feeling strong enough to go on the Honor Flight. I figured I would be able to keep up with 150 WWII Vets. I might have been wrong about that assumption, though. The day was very fast paced and we did a ton of walking. We saw all of these memorials in one day!


Arlington National Cemetery
Air Force Memorial
Pentagon Memorial
Korean War Memorial
Lincoln Memorial
Vietnam Memorial
WWII Memorial
FDR Memorial

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I’m so glad I got the chance to go on the Honor Flight. It was one of the most memorable days I’ve had with my dad. We were pretty tired out by the end of the trip, but the homecoming at the airport gave us a boost of energy. I’ll always treasure that day.

 

 

 

A Phoenix and a J-Hawk

It was only two days after being hit by the Jeep, but I didn’t want to miss the annual Team Phoenix fundraising 5K at InStep. I needed my Team Phoenix sisters! If anyone can encourage me to rise up after being knocked down, it would be my strong Phoenix family. It was great to get off the couch and see everyone. I obviously did not do the 5K, but Coach Lauren set me up to direct traffic at the final turn, so I felt like I was participating. I may have thrown a few people off their race times, when they stopped to check on me, but it wasn’t a competitive 5K. I even joined a couple of friends to walk the final stretch to the finish line. I was getting around pretty well with the crutches, thanks to the cutting edge instructional video at the ER.

2017 Run For A Reason-21.2

directing traffic

Run For A Reason 2017 -1

While we were there, I asked the PT at InStep take a look at Andy’s foot. We were thinking he could fit him for a shoe insert that would help relieve his pain. He put his finger on the spot where Andy had been having pain, and Andy almost went through the ceiling. That gave us a name for his problem- it was call posterior tibial tendon dysfunction. The PT said it is a very difficult injury to recover from and told Andy he needed to wear a boot to immobilize the foot so it would have a chance to heal. Finally, I felt like we were on the way to taking care of Andy’s foot pain.
Dr. Tjoe, the doctor who started Team Phoenix, was there and, always looking out for the well-being of her Team Phoenix ladies, checked up on me. She asked if I had an orthopedic surgeon. My favorite orthopedic doctor had retired shortly after my rotator cuff surgery, and I hadn’t found a surgeon I liked since them. She offered to make a few phone calls to her orthopedic surgeon friends. How could I pass that up. As I was getting ready to leave InStep, someone came out with the store phone, looking for me. It was Dr Tjoe, asking if I’d be available that evening to be seen by Dr Gordon. On a Sunday? Of course! She had him call me and we arranged to meet Sunday evening at 5:30. It turns out that he works out of the same office where my favorite orthopedic surgeon used to work. I felt very lucky to be in such good hands. I’m blessed with doctors who go above and beyond to look out for my well-being.
He did a complete exam of my knee, and said it felt fairly stable, but was too swollen to determine any more. He gave me a better knee brace than the ER had given me, told me to keep up with the ice and ibuprofen, and wait for the swelling to go down. He thought I still wanted to do the triathlon in a week, and seemed to think that might be reasonable. I had no intention of doing a triathlon as banged up as I felt. He works with professional athletes, so I assume he sees a fair number of people playing through their injuries. I am not at that level, and know when to take a break to let my body heal. He said if it still hurt after the swelling subsided, he would order an MRI. Back to waiting.


On Sunday September 24th, my family went to the J-Hawk triathlon in Whitewater. I wanted to cheer everyone on, and my kids were still signed up for the kid’s race. It was a rare, hot September day. My kids did the tri despite the heat, though I think they were miserable. I am so proud of them for sticking with it. I was still on crutches and it was a long day on my feet, but I was happy to be a part of race day with my friends. I would have preferred to participate with them. I’m not a fan of having limitations slapped on me. I’d have to get off the crutches soon and get back to training for the next triathlon!

Friday, the 15th – Setback Number X

All of a sudden, I was on the ground, a stream of curses flowing as fast as the tears. I was yelling at the white Jeep that just hit me, throwing me off my bike. I hollered at the driver “what the f#@&*^%! are you doing?” I paused for a moment when I realized my phone was still within reach on my bike’s handlebar mount. I wanted to call Andy. Crying and cursing, I dialed and said, “I just got hit by a car.” I wanted him there.

I couldn’t believe what just happened. I’ve been riding my bike all my life, in all sorts of conditions, including chaotic, urban streets. I’m a safe and defensive rider and have always felt confident that I would stay safe. I’ve had a few close calls before, and even a couple of wipe-outs, but I never imagined that I’d get hit by a car. It didn’t feel real.

People started to gather around me. One man wanted to help me in the worst way, but there wasn’t much for him to do. He wanted to make sure I was okay. He wanted to move me off the street. I wanted to wait for Andy. Oddly, he wanted to keep pouring water on my skinned and rapidly swelling knee. I asked him to stop because he was using up my drinking water! Another woman stopped and called 911. An impatient commuter started beeping at the Jeep so she could get out of the parking lot. I wanted to tell her, “Calm down! I just got hit by a car-my day is not going as planned either! Why can’t you take a minute out of your routine to wait and make sure all is well instead of impatiently blasting your horn?” All I could think was don’t disturb the “crime scene”. Don’t let the Jeep drive away. Get a picture. Get his license plate. It was a jumble of thoughts and tears. But the guy who was pouring water on my knee (still…), moved my bike and let the Jeep move out of the way for the impatient commuter. Luckily, Jeep guy did not leave the scene. He stayed over by his Jeep, making calls on his cell phone. He never said one word to me. He never apologized for running me and my bike over. He never gave any indication that he was sorry.

Quickly, the police and paramedics started arriving. I repeated my story over and over to each person. I was riding northbound on the bike path. The Jeep was stopped at the stop sign, I attempted to make eye contact, and then proceeded. The jeep hit the gas just when I got in front of it. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but I could not prevent it. I watched as the Jeep mangled my bike while I was tangled underneath it, my legs getting contorted and banged up as it twisted under the force of the Jeep. My elbow, hip and knee hit the concrete with a hard impact.

That split second changed my day. I had just been feeling invincible-on top of the world. In the next minute, I was sitting in the street, in tears, in pain and unable to move my knee.

The paramedics were asking me questions and checking me over while the policeman was assuring me that cases don’t get any more clearcut than this scenario. I was in a marked crosswalk. The Jeep had a stop sign. He reassured me that it would be clear in his report that the driver was 100% at fault. That’s great. Except that I was lying in the street, broken, next to my Team Phoenix bike, which was mangled on the side of the road. (Andy’s line is, “how does it feel to be right?) I was watching my goals for 2018 slip to the back burner for yet one more setback in a long string of setbacks. I couldn’t bend my left knee. Damn. Honestly, my left knee is (was) the one part of me that isn’t damaged…

Andy arrived and I started to feel a little less hysterical. He had called his employer, Bell Ambulance, and they soon arrived on scene, too. The second cop was a little cranky about it when I told him that I would be using Bell if I decided to be transported. He said that’s not how it works. Cudahy rescue was here, and if I wanted transport, I’d have to go with Cudahy rescue. I told him that was not my understanding of how it worked. I looked at the paramedic, and asked, “in your opinion, would you even suggest ambulance transport for these injuries?” He was noncommittal, but told me that I could sign to refuse transport. So I did that and then started talking to Bell’s paramedics. Being full of grit and determination, I really didn’t think I needed to go by ambulance. I just wanted Andy to drive me to the hospital. It was less than a mile away. It was a struggle to get in the car, because I couldn’t bend my knee much, but I got in and then the policeman came over to finalize his report and wish me luck. The Jeep guy’s friend also came over to apologize, but the man who hit me still never said a single word. He altered the trajectory of my life. I wonder if there was any consequence to his.

In the meantime, Andy loaded my bike onto the car while I sat in the passenger seat. Usually, I lock my bike to the rack, but something told me that nobody would steal a mangled bike off a car that was parked at the emergency room.
On to the ER. I did promise Andy that I would take him to a doctor to get his foot checked and we were on the way to see a doctor. Maybe we could get a two-fer. The nurse just laughed. Why is it that they always think I’m joking? Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get out of taking care of Andy.

He insisted on getting a wheelchair to get me into the ER. I didn’t object. Much… We spent the next three hours getting my injuries checked out. There was a physical exam, and x-rays of my knee and femurs. My knee was becoming increasingly swollen and the bruises started to appear on both thighs and right shin, where the bike frame struck me. My left hip had huge bruises, too, from hitting the concrete. The X-ray tech kept asking me to position myself in various ways on the table, each position hurting more than the previous one. The last one was extremely awkward. At least they got good images.

Luckily, nothing was broken according to the x-ray. They gave me pain pills, a knee brace, and asked if we wanted to watch a video on “how to use crutches”. I said no. How hard could it be? But Andy thought a little entertainment was a great idea, so we agreed to watch the video. I’m glad we did, because it put me in a better mood. The nurse literally wheeled in an AV cart set-up straight out of my 80s high school days. A CRT TV sat on the top of the cart and a VCR on the bottom. She popped in the VHS tape (I am not kidding!) and the ensuing video took my mind off my pain. It was hilarious-so hilarious that I did not pay any attention to the tips on using crutches. I think I figured it out pretty fast, and I made my way out to the car to get home to start recovering and re-calculating my plans for the year. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to work around a set back.

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