About 3 weeks ago, I felt a small lump in my right breast, right where the cancerous one had been removed 2 years ago. I got an appointment with my GP for July 13 and spent a nasty weekend prior to that, thinking dark thoughts. After she felt the lump, she referred me to the clinic at the Civic where I had my first ultrasound in July of 2008, when they found the cancer. I could only get an ultrasound appointment for this morning at 8 am.
Peter was planning to take holidays starting July 16 and he was going to bike around Lake Ontario or somewhere, while I campaigned. This lump put us both in limbo. He started his holidays anyway, so he could just hang out with me and be supportive, and we had a very quiet weekend, where we got in some nice biking and spent a lot of time on patios, thinking our own dark thoughts.
I have been thinking about the meaning of life. I have also been thinking about whether my body had betrayed me (again), what kind of surgery I would have this time and whether I would opt for chemo (again). I have been planning final trips and holidays in my head, thinking about cashing in my life insurance and RRSPs to do so, and other similarly grim thoughts.
This morning, we were up at 6 and out the door at 7, to bike over to the Civic. We got there in 35 minutes, so we were a tad early. My heart rate was up and I felt quite gloomy. When I was ushered in to the exam room, I asked if Peter could come with me, so I wouldn't have to tell him everything after it happened and so re-live a potentially negative experience. They said he couldn't come in with me. I shrugged. First a technician gave me the ultrasound and I watched the monitor while she ran the wand over me. I could see a dark lump on the screen but it looked different from the one 2 years ago. Then a very nice woman doctor (sweetly named Dr. Petal) came in and talked to me while she ran the wand over me. She pointed out the characteristics of this lump and told me that to her, it looked like it was a fat necrosis, or dead fat cells in a lump. In other words, scar tissue. It was still evolving, the scar tissue, because of the damage done by surgery and radiation and the fact that the fat lump wasn't getting any blood supply.
In fact, this is a key thing that distinguishes cancer from other tissue - it has a vigorous blood supply. And this lump had none. I let out my breath that I'd been holding for the last few weeks. She then asked the technician to go get Peter. They don't like other people in the room initially, because it is a small room and they can be distracting. But now that the work had been done, she allowed Peter in. He was relieved to hear what she had to say and she showed him what she was looking at on the monitor. She also said that she had looked at my file from 2 years ago, as well as the mammogram I had in November. She could see the lump on the mammogram (and she got out the film and showed it to me) and pointed out that it looked like scar tissue there also.
Nevertheless, to be entirely sure, I am going to have a needle biopsy, some time in the next 2 weeks. It will be one of those rare occasions when I willingly say to someone, "yes, please do stick a large needle into my chest and pull out tissue." However, I agree with her that it is probably just scar tissue and therefore, I can write this and get back to living. And running for office. And sewing. I've been a little distracted lately.
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Friday, December 19, 2008
Why everything is taking so long
Okay, it's time for an explanation why my blog entries are taking forever. I have a really good excuse - it's a humdinger, in fact. In August, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In September I had surgery which got it all, and it had not spread to the nodes - great news. But it was a really aggressive tumour so they recommended chemotherapy first and then radiation as preventive, adjuvant measures and I have just had my second round of six chemo sessions and it is tiring me out. I am thinking radiation in the Spring will be a walk in the park compared to chemo.
I decided to go ahead and teach this past semester, as I had already committed to it, but I am not going to be teaching in January. I am thinking I want all my energy to get well - not from the cancer which is gone but from the chemo - that is some toxic stuff. So I have planned some creative projects for myself that I can work on when I feel well, which really, is most of the time.
Before people respond with sympathetic comments, let me tell you what I have learned about energy. I have learned that there really IS negative and positive energy and people can project it like quills on a porcupine. I have discovered that, however well-meant, expressions of sympathy are negative energy. Negative energy requires effort to resist and I am not willing to expend that valuable part of my own energy resisting it. I intend to be relentlessly cheerful and positive about this entire experience and I have been therefore avoiding anybody who can bring me down, even if they really do mean well.
I have been writing about the experience from the get-go and that has been tremendously therapeutic. I am now trying to come up with suggestions for how people can respond when they hear about something major like this. Don't say "I'm sorry". I know that's almost always the first reaction but don't say it. I have been thinking people could say something like "Wow, how are you coping with that?" I had one person respond with "God love ya!" which I felt was not negative. So my challenge to you, my dear readers, is to come up with other initial expressions of caring that are not negative. I'm currently stumped.
In the meantime, I am carrying on with the corduroy jacket.
Here are my nice flat felled seams, from the inside and the outside.
Here's the back yoke from the inside, pinned and ready to be sewn down. I actually turn it over and sew it from the outside to make sure the topstitching goes in the right place. I sew very slowly because the pins are underneath then and I can't take them out as I go.
This is the shoulder seam, after it has been sewn and then one side of the seam allowance has been trimmed. I trim off the seam allowance belonging to the body of the jacket because there is only one seam in the sleeve part that will need to be folded over to make the flat fell.
Here I am pressing the outside of the shoulder seam over the ham. Because of how awkward it is, I don't press the flat fell over on the inside around the shoulder seam. I just fold it over once the outside is pressed flat and then pin it and sew, also very slowly.
And here is the jacket, taking shape. I have sewed on the bottom band to the inside of the body. After I sew up the ends, I will sew the folded edge of the band on the outside of the jacket with topstitching.
I decided to go ahead and teach this past semester, as I had already committed to it, but I am not going to be teaching in January. I am thinking I want all my energy to get well - not from the cancer which is gone but from the chemo - that is some toxic stuff. So I have planned some creative projects for myself that I can work on when I feel well, which really, is most of the time.
Before people respond with sympathetic comments, let me tell you what I have learned about energy. I have learned that there really IS negative and positive energy and people can project it like quills on a porcupine. I have discovered that, however well-meant, expressions of sympathy are negative energy. Negative energy requires effort to resist and I am not willing to expend that valuable part of my own energy resisting it. I intend to be relentlessly cheerful and positive about this entire experience and I have been therefore avoiding anybody who can bring me down, even if they really do mean well.
I have been writing about the experience from the get-go and that has been tremendously therapeutic. I am now trying to come up with suggestions for how people can respond when they hear about something major like this. Don't say "I'm sorry". I know that's almost always the first reaction but don't say it. I have been thinking people could say something like "Wow, how are you coping with that?" I had one person respond with "God love ya!" which I felt was not negative. So my challenge to you, my dear readers, is to come up with other initial expressions of caring that are not negative. I'm currently stumped.
In the meantime, I am carrying on with the corduroy jacket.
Here are my nice flat felled seams, from the inside and the outside.
Here's the back yoke from the inside, pinned and ready to be sewn down. I actually turn it over and sew it from the outside to make sure the topstitching goes in the right place. I sew very slowly because the pins are underneath then and I can't take them out as I go.
This is the shoulder seam, after it has been sewn and then one side of the seam allowance has been trimmed. I trim off the seam allowance belonging to the body of the jacket because there is only one seam in the sleeve part that will need to be folded over to make the flat fell.
Here I am pressing the outside of the shoulder seam over the ham. Because of how awkward it is, I don't press the flat fell over on the inside around the shoulder seam. I just fold it over once the outside is pressed flat and then pin it and sew, also very slowly.
And here is the jacket, taking shape. I have sewed on the bottom band to the inside of the body. After I sew up the ends, I will sew the folded edge of the band on the outside of the jacket with topstitching.
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