Fighting Breast Cancer

At the Mayo Clinic, the doctors advise that their cancer patients touch base with a social worker who works close with the doctors.  The Social Worker is there to provide the patient with different resources to help deal with cancer.  Everything from support groups to financial aid to one-on-one counselling. 

Dr. N made an appointment for me with one of the social workers at Mayo.  I went to the appointment with my mother, which I usually don’t like to do because talking about my cancer makes her upset and cry.  She came in anyway, and sat quietly with a Kleenex in her hand while I spoke with a woman I’ll call Diane.

Diane first gave me some information on nutrition and took a basic financial statement to see if I would be eligible for some sort of financial aid.  She asked me if I needed any information on support groups; I told her I didn’t.  I felt strong and positive that I was going to beat the cancer. 

She looked at me a little sideways.  She asked, “Do you know what your diagnoses is?” 

I said, “Yes.  I’ve discussed it all with Dr. N.”

Diane:  “What did Dr. N tell you?”

Me:  “He said that I have Stage IV Breast Cancer and that I have a three in a thousand chance to be cured.”

Diane:  “And, what if you are not one of the three?”

Me:  “Huh?”

Diane:  “What if you are not cured?  Are you emotionally prepared for this?”

I was genuinely confused when she asked me this.  The thought of not being cured had never occured to me.  I have been from the very beginning completely sold on the idea that I am going to beat cancer.  I don’t know when it’s going to happen, I don’t know how it’s going to happen.  I just know it.  I think it’s very dangerous for her to try to plant a seed in my mind to the contrary. 

I know what she’s trying to do.  She’s trying to prepare me for what, statistically, is my probable outcome.  But, she doesn’t know me.  I AM NOT A STATISTIC!!  I have blocked all of that negative shit out of my mind. 

My mother sobbed.  This made me mad.

“Look Diane.  I’m going to be one of the three and that’s it.  I think we’re ready to leave.”  I stood up and helped my mother to her feet.

“Karen, I have some information on meditation if you’d like….”

“I already know how to meditate and I do it every day.”  I snapped at her a little strongly, I know.  But I was pissed and I just wanted to get out of her office.

I helped my mom to the car.  She was trying not to cry but I could tell that this meeting had unnerved her.  We talked about it on the way home and we both ended up getting angry about the whole thing.  By the time we arrived home we had concluded that Diane had no idea what she was talking about and that I was going to go on as planned.  I was going to be one of the three in a thousand.  I was going to beat cancer.

Today, I returned to see Dr. C so that I could continue with my accupuncture.  She led me to a room in the back and examined my tongue.  “Your Chi look better, but still bad,” she said.  I changed into a gown and layed on the table.

She began shooting needles in me from the top of my head down to my feet.  Again, when she placed a needle in my lower abdomen she asked, “Do you feel this in your vagina?”  (What the hell is her weird obsession with my vagina?) “Yes, yes I feel it down there.” 

“In your vagina?”  She asked again.

“Yes!  I feel it in my vagina!”  What did I have to do, announce it to the world?

She finally finished sticking me with needles and left me in the room with quiet music.  At length, she came back in and removed the needles.  I felt very relaxed and yet felt more energized.  This stuff really works! 

On the way home, I called Aunt Denise and Uncle Pete.  Uncle Pete, a very respected surgeon, answered the phone.  I told him about my experience with Dr. C and her obsession with asking me about my vagina.  He laughed and said that there is a nerve in that area called the Pubic Nerve and she was probably making sure that she was hitting it with the needle.

Thank God, there was an explanation.  I was beginning to feel a little weirded out.

It’s hot.  In fact, it’s so hot that I feel like I’m going to burst into flames.  Arizona in the summer is no place for a menopausal woman with hot flashes. 

But, nothing can keep me from going to one of my favorite stores, Target.  I spend hours browsing through their novelty t-shirts, their scented candles, the endless supply of CD’s and DVD’s for sale….you know, all the worthless crap that you buy that ends up cluttering your home.  I’ll go to Target with the intention of buying one bottle of fabric softener, and one hour later leave $150 poorer while hauling 10 bags of where-am-I-going-to-hide-this-from-my-husband contraband.

Today, I went to Target to buy a greeting card and some dish soap.  As always, my first stop is at the “Dollar Store” section where everything is (you guessed it) a dollar.  Or, as I like to call it, Romper Room.  This is the only place in the whole store where mothers can drop off their kids and say, “Pick anything you want in these 2 aisles.”  The younger kids open their eyes in wonder and shop.  The older kids roll their eyes and pout.

I was browsing through the section, when I started to have the Mother of all Hot Flashes.  This one came on so quickly that it took my breath away.  I actually started panting.  The sweat was rolling down my face, so I took off my hat and started fanning myself.  It was then that I noticed a ten year old girl watching me.  She was locked in a stare that looked like it was full of wonder.  That is, until her jaw dropped as she watched me remove my hat.  She actually recoiled at how crazy I looked:  bald, no eyebrows, no eye lashes, catheter in my arm and sweating.  I tried to smile at her, but she bolted from the aisle and ran to her mother.

I felt bad that I made her feel uncomfortable, so I moved away and went to the book section of the store.  I thought I was safe until a five-year-old boy ran by, laughing.  He took one look at me, stopped and his face fell to the floor.  You would have thought that I had told him there was no such thing as Santa Claus.

I’m beginning to feel like I’m a ghost that no one can see except children.  The adults around me avert their eyes and pretend they don’t see me, while their kid’s eyes widen in horror at the crazy sweaty lady.

Not that I can blame anyone.  I haven’t been able to look at myself in the mirror in months.

For the first time, ever, I left Target without buying anything.

As per my daily morning ritual, I was walking my dogs this morning.  It is Sunday and when I walk the dogs on the weekends, I like to listen to NPR on my headphones.  At 6:30am, I was listening to Weekend Edition, when they interrupted the program to announce that Lance Armstrong had just won the 2005 Tour de France, his seventh victory in a row. 

Upon hearing this, I dropped to my knees and wept.

Nobody is more surprised about this than I am.  Thankfully, there was nobody around to witness my breakdown.  It was embarrassing.  I actually sobbed.  I don’t really even know why!  I have not been following Lance Armstrong’s career or even this current Tour de France.  I wasn’t emotionally invested in all things Lance.  I knew about his story, of course.  His book, It’s Not About The Bike, is required reading if you are a cancer patient so I was all too familiar with his fight with cancer. 

But, to actually hear about a SURVIVOR overcoming UNBELIEVABLE odds and beating cancer THEN coming back and winning, not one but SEVEN Tours de France…  I think my heart broke with pride for a fellow cancer patient. 

And right at that moment, Lance Armstrong became my hero.

This morning when I woke, I was unable to move.  Pain from the chemo I had two days before had hijacked my body.  The soreness was deep in my bones and my joints felt like they were petrified.  The vertebrae in my spine pulsated with pain in time with my heart beat, which was elevated.  I was so uncomfortable that I couldn’t get out of bed. 

Michael came to my rescue.  Dr. N had prescribed Vicodin for my pain.  Michael ran to the kitchen like a superhero and brought me a glass of water and two pills.  I swallowed them and settled back to wait for them to take affect. 

I must have dozed off because I woke a while later feeling Great!  The vicoden had taken the pain away and made it so that I was able to bounce out of bed and get some work done.  I’m so grateful to have a remedy for debilitating pain.

After meeting with Dr. N, I had my sixth round of chemotherapy.  Like the previous round, I felt really good when I was done; just drawn and tired. 

I had told Dr. N about the pain that I had experienced a day and half after my last round.  He prescribed pain medication to help with the bone pain. 

I just hope it works.