SQUIRM

I gave this blog its name because it's perfect for a rant about breasts. Throughout sixteen weeks of chemo, I was secretly hoping for a lumpectomy since my tumor size is small and response to chemo has been A+. But I'm not getting that break (not that lumpectomies are a piece of cake). I'm in for full demo and reno. Both breasts.
medical staff: "We want to be able to say "cure.""
me: squirm
medical staff: "It's the best option. Otherwise you'll be under constant surveillance."
me: squirm
medical staff (now exasperated): "It's only fifteen extra minutes in the O.R."
me: squirm
I'm not ready for this!
Too, I've been trying to "prepare my mind for surgery," a series of basic relaxation methods which I'm supposed to learn and then put to use when I get scared (which is all the time). I'm listening to tapes which teach deep relaxation, but all I can do is picture my body on a metal table with my eyes X'd out! Then I read that picturing your body on a metal table with your eyes X'd out is not optimal for the pre-surgery mind.
squirm
Still, I keep reminding my catastrophic thoughts that I've made a choice which offers the best outcome -- I'm reaching for optimum health. My medical team is #1! Dammit, I'm going for cure (imagine crowd cheering)!
Yes, bilateral mastectomies. squirm.

Whining

I can't conceive a better place to spill a few pre-surgery tears than the Napa Valley. Growing up in farm country, I'm attuned to the vibrant energy in the growing grapes, the tending of the vines and hopes for a bountiful harvest. So much green under brilliant blue skies!
And the food - I gained five pounds! Too, I learned a new appreciation for champagne (the bubbles settle my wiggly stomach).
I did more wine sniffing than tasting, and was the designated driver for the love of my life. No complaints. For a few days I was Mustang Sally driving a fast convertible (yes, my hair stayed on!).
Memorable moment? We shared the most delicious plum, courtesy of Mr. Ramirez at his fruit stand along the Silverado Trail. Truly fabulous!
I did a lot of living in the moment and celebrating real love.

Oh Canada!

We are making a trip to visit Calgary friends and the gorgeous Canadian Rockies. Being in the presence of these majestic mountains gives me strength. Their peaks, beautifully sculpted and glacier scarred, are the strongest survivors. Maybe we are all timeless.

Chi-Chi-Chi-Chia!

I'm a Chia Pet!
Two weeks ago, my hair started to hurt. What hair? A bit of my hair survived eight rounds of chemo, but not enough hair to sport the
G. I. Jane look.
The sensitivity was annoying and I attributed it to another weird Taxol side effect.
Wrong!
My hair's coming back in true Chia Pet fashion. Except it's not green and leafy. Oh, and the doggy pictured here has way more "hair" than me.
Do you know how many famous Chia Pets there are? My head will join the ranks of icons like Homer Simpson and even President Obama!
My family is enjoying watching their Chia Pet's hair grow. Too, I have my own secret formula that I spray on my head and "watch it grow!"

Drowning In My Gene Pool

Let's say you woke up this morning and remembered, "Hey! I have distant family members who are of Jewish heritage." You might think, "How fascinating!"
Or, in my case, after drilling down on the details of the BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene, the response might be, "@%*#*!!! I might be at risk for both breast and ovarian cancer!"

I'm drowning in my gene pool!

My old friends, Anxiety and Obsession, keep me company while I wait at least two weeks for the scheduling and results of a blood test for these mutated genes.

These genes cause 7 to 10% of all breast cancers and are a high risk for ovarian cancer. They are inherited from both mother and father. My gene inheritance comes via my father's father, the source of the Baer in me.

It's just one more thing to add to my pile of worries.

What really bugs me, besides the complete lack of control and uncertainty, is that if I have either of these mutated genes, my kids do too. It will add the specter of medical surveillance to their lives.

It also ramps up my rant. I can't believe the lack of information sharing from our medical professionals! This information has been available since 1995!! I've never had a medical professional make inquiry. Why?

When breast cancer organizations talk about awareness, it means more than the gentle reminder to get your annual breast exam. They are the source of essential information.
Information is power.

Boobs Be Gone

Back to the hard place. I wasn't serious when I titled this blog. I've been in denial about the possibility of a bilateral mastectomy. My skillful surgeon recommends I consider this approach which will increase my chances for a cure.
It's taken a week to put my emotional response into words. My moods were as unpredictable as a sudden storm.

Another Taxol treatment followed my surgeon's sobering news. The treatment went well, but two days later, the steroids wore off and I felt physically and emotionally flat. I walked the dogs in spite of total exhaustion. I made myself go out every day. I can't let the process beat me.
I went for a massage. Massage is the one thing that helps me through the hard places. Massage heals my body and refreshes my spirit. My thanks to the girls at the best spa in Maine, Rejuvinations, especially to Liz for her gracious support and love.
I'm adjusting, accepting the next step, and remembering my awesome medical team: a rockin' oncologist with a professional, perky nursing staff, an exceptional surgeon with matching staff (thanks, Betsy!), and my BFF Jami in the treatment center.
Special thanks to Kay for coming home this weekend just because I asked (read: whined) and for our shoe-fest at Macy's, to Pat for the calls and texts all weekend and the best T-shirt ever and to my son Matt for being here for me.
And then there's my soul sister, Claudette. Caring, sincere, affectionate, she helps me process the hard stuff with empathy and seriously wicked humor!
New, perky, cancer-free boobs are in my future, "size B happy."

Wiggly

My partner in purchased lovely locks, 80's rocker, Kevin: you're the only one who truly understands the merits and the pitfalls of wearable hair.