Here Comes My 19th Nervous Breakdown

Rule #1 for cancer patients (and survivors): Eliminate ALL unnecessary stress in your life.

This is funny because dealing with cancer is STRESSFUL!
I have never cried so much and so often in my life. I'm sure I have Liz Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, beat in total gallons of tears and snot expended during a life crisis! (by the way if you ever have the chance to see her--go!).
So, I do not recommend anyone have their home, their foundation and security, sold, it's contents boxed up when you are still trying to get your land legs post cancer surgery ... unless it's for a damned good reason.
What is my damned good reason? We are moving to Canada.
So when I think I'm about to melt down, I think of the Canadian Rockies' powerful presence. When my stomach turns upside down, I think of our wonderful Canadian friends. When I'm completely overwhelmed, I think of bears, grizzlies, enjoying this year's bountiful crop of berries. Yes, bears eat berries, a caloric necessity for them, a linguistic treat for nerdy writers like me. Like the grizzlies of the Canadian Rockies, the lush mountain meadows' bumble bees have plush, furry coats!
My cherished Canadian friend, Pamela, has become an expert in her kayak, so my goal is to recover 100% of my left arm so that I can give it a try. I'll have to be a back-seater with Pat for a while before I fly solo.
OK, maybe I'm flunking rule #1.
My emotions are riding roller-coaster rails. But here's the thing: I'm trying to manage stress in a positive way. And I cry a lot.
Let's face it: life is stressful. Buddha said, "Life is suffering." Wisdom comes in learning to choose the response that is healthy for you. And all that crying clears your tear ducts and sends your soul through the rinse cycle.
Tissue please!

(Grizzly bear picture taken by Charlie Russell, naturalist and North America's leading bear expert. This bear is called "Spirit Bear." Please Google grizzlies and the intrepid Mr. Charlie Russell.)

Healing Thoughts

I've been thinking about what it takes to survive and struggling with some of the cornerstones, like positive attitude and focusing on healing.
I have to admit I'm more Eeyore than Tigger, though I have my Tigger moments. But I've wasted a lot of time waiting for the other shoe to drop.
We're all living under a shoe filled cloud.
In my case, the other shoe already dropped and it wasn't a Manolo Blahnik stiletto - it was cancer.
Post-surgery, my oncologist is sure this ugly shoe is out of my body. I am officially a survivor. Too, my DNA pool is much better than thought earlier: I tested negative for the BRCA1 and 2 gene mutations. Whew!
Now I have make that transition from doom to hope.
Too, I have to undergo more treatment to be sure the ugly shoe stays gone.
I have all the post-surgery aches and pains and these uncomfortable expanders in my chest wall (ouch), will help me retain my female form
But right now they feel as comfortable as margarine tub lids.
I'm meditating on the good things in my life: my unbelievably loving and supportive husband and kids, friends and family who are standing by me through this journey, and my kick-ass medical team (the much appreciated privilege of having good health care).
Like Eeyore, I'm a work in progress. It's ironic that this little grey donkey wears a pink ribbon on his tail.

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.