I can't believe it's been two months since my last blog post. I've started many posts in my head on my walks, but by the time I had a few minutes to write, whatever I wanted to say was past history. I think the bottom line is the longer I go between posts, the more life and normalcy is happening. The time between thinking about cancer lengthens, although it never quite goes away. I feel strong, healthy and blessed right now.
The one remnant from treatment that is still causing me problems is my shoulder. As the muscles in my chest area healed, and I resumed the activities I love, I noticed a range of motion problem in my left shoulder. If I caught a tennis ball with my left hand and the force moved my arm backward, a sharp pain resonated in my shoulder. If I reached too far overhead, it would hurt. Even reaching back to get my seatbelt would engage painful twinges. For the most part, my shoulder didn't affect what I wanted to do, so I ignored it.
Then sometime this fall, I decided to engage in range of motion exercises to work out the soreness. When I saw my oncologist in November, she guessed it was tendonitis since I had the pain mostly in the top of my shoulder. Her recommendation was to try ibuprofen and exercise for a month. If it didn't improve, she was going to refer me for physical therapy. I googled shoulder tendonitis and found some range of motion exercises and faithfully performed them every day. The shoulder weakened. I could no longer do a pushup without pain. I worried about the effects of the pain reliever on my stomach and immune system. Some days it felt better, and other days it ached all day long. On the day my month was over, my oncologist's nurse followed up with me. I can't say enough good things about how well Dr. Kohn stays on top of all the details of her patients, especially since I was leaning towards putting off calling until after school was out for Christmas. I told the nurse that I would like to see a physical therapist, and the next day I received a calI from Evergreen Outpatient Physical Therapy. The receptionist set me up with eight appointments, twice a week. Once I got the appointments on my calendar, it was easy enough to fit them into my schedule.
My PT, with an extensive background working with sports injuries, told me that every exercise and stretch I was performing up until now was actually hurting my shoulder. He said that with the shoulder, "no pain, no gain," does not work. The muscles need to be stretched slowly and strengthened. He's seen other patients who have had radiation have similar side effects, with the radiation causing the muscles, tendons, and ligaments to shorten, dry out, and become less elastic. Because my shoulder wasn't moving properly, my neck muscles had to do what they weren't designed to do, which also affected the upper back. Remember the back problem I had? The achiness would return if I was on my feet for long periods of time. Now I see the problem originated with my stiff shoulder. It's amazing how the anatomy fits together. My PT showed me a stretch with a foam roller that loosened up all the muscles from my neck to my upper back. I've been using a tightly rolled towel at home, but yesterday he highly recommend I get a foam roller for the added effectiveness. He gave me a rubber band to hang on the door to help stretch and strengthen the muscles. My shoulder now feels lighter since the stiffness is starting to loosen up. He is convinced that had I not come in, my shoulder would have continued to deteriorate and I would have lost the range of motion I had.
Yesterday we received a beautiful blanket of snow and many of the schools were closed. The physical therapy office opened, but the receptionist who called me said I could choose to cancel if I wanted to. My appointment wasn't until 11, and by then, the snow was starting to melt, so I chose to go in. As I was doing exercises, my eyes looked out on the cancer wing of the hospital. It dawned on me that my year anniversary of completing radiation (December 17th) passed by without me noticing. Last Christmas, I was so grateful to be finished with all my active treatment, except for the Herceptin. I thought of people who might be sitting in the infusion chairs as I was now pulling down light weights, and said a prayer for them. Chemo is hard anytime, but I think it would be especially hard during the holidays. The atmosphere in the physical therapy room was jovial, as many of the PTs had clients cancel on them, and they were eager for conversation. I didn't miss the shark contrasts on this side of the street from the cancer center. The doctors, nurses and staff at SCCA (mostly Cascade Cancer Center while I was getting chemo) are amazing and gracious. The conversation many times was rich and entertaining. But, I also remember times coming in feeling nauseous and weak or seeing others who would barely walk. The chairs were filled with people who were suffering. It doesn't escape me that my appointments this December are for continued healing, not treatment with side effects. I am growing stronger just as my hair is growing longer. It is a busy Christmas this year, but busy for good reasons. Becca's taking driving lessons and has a busy social calendar. Nathan and Ben add to the running around with their activities. I make it a priority to fit in a walk at least six days a week. This year, for the first time in our married lives, we didn't send out a Christmas letter or card. It wasn't because I didn't feel healthy enough, but because I feel too healthy and our lives are jammed full of life. It's a good problem. Actually, the best.
Now it's back to some last minute preparation on the house before our Florida family arrives tomorrow. Explaining to the kids last Sunday when they said they couldn't believe Christmas was this week, I told them that we didn't want to miss Jesus this year. If it doesn't feel like Christmas, remember to spend more time with God. John 1:1 says, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Jesus is the word incarnate, the word in flesh. We celebrate Him, not presents, Santa, snowmen or even cookies. If we don't miss Jesus this Christmas, we won't miss Christmas. Find Jesus and discover the Christmas spirit. That's our goal for the rest of the Christmas season. I'm sure it'll be busy, but full of much love and laughter and life. And Jesus, of course.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Friday, October 25, 2013
I Passed!
At 9 a.m. this morning, I was in my oncologist's office, the first time with my curly hair. I was just in for a blood draw, and the vein in my right arm cooperated with the needle wielded by a professional blood taker, and before I knew it, my arm was wrapped up, minus several vials of blood.
Since it was a fasting blood test, I hadn't eaten anything since last night, but all I was in the mood for as I headed to mammography was a bottle of water. I saw my friend Pam briefly before getting called back to change into the warm robe. I waited through a cup of tea and another glass of water before finally being called back for the x-rays. Because of problems with my thyroid, I always ask for the thyroid guard. I did this on my own, based on a recommendation from someone on a breast cancer website, but last summer I asked my endocrinologist what he thought. He said it was a good idea to protect my thyroid from any radiation exposure I could. After being manipulated and squished by the 3-D imaging machine, I was asked to go wait again in the waiting room.
The minutes ticked slowly by. I prayed for others in the room, especially those who were waiting on results like me. I prayed for my friend Pam who had probably gotten her mammogram by now. Some new ladies came. Some of the others were called back and left. I still waited. The verse that kept repeating in my mind was, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4)
The Breast Center is not what I would call the valley of the shadow of death. The people there, from the receptionists, the assistants, the technicians and doctors are all amazing people. I always feel respected and cared for when I enter into the back waiting room. The shadow of death, though, is the cancer that might be lingering inside me. Cancer could mean death. Yet, I knew God was with me, every step of the way. I felt His presence. Every time I wondered if I should be worrying about the length of time that has passed, I reminded myself that God had my back, the peace I was feeling was what I was supposed to be feeling. Then the technicians called me back to take a few new films. She asked me if I had a port-a-cath. I told her I did. She thought that scar tissue from that had shown up on my film, but the doctor wanted to take some other angles on my right side and be sure. My right side is the good side. The cancer was in my left side.... I was pretty confident that it was scar tissue, so my blood pressure stayed normal as I submitted to more squeezing and breath holding.
Back to the waiting room I went. More time to pray. There was the cutest little boy of about 4 years old who came in with his mom. I loved watching him interact with his mom, trying not to be too obvious about it. She had gone in and come back, too. I prayed that she didn't have anything serious going on, but she looked so peaceful, flipping through a magazine and answering every question fired at her by her son. They were called back in and I was left alone to continue to pray.
Finally, the technician came back and said, even though it looks like it was scar tissue on the second films, the doctor wanted to be certain. She walked me down to ultrasound, where I waited again. A very nice ultrasound technician ushered me back to a room, where I lay on my back and she prepped the machine. I told her how I had started at 9 a.m. with a fasting blood test and I was getting a little hungry. It was now closing in on noon. She was so sympathetic of my wait, in fact she was sorry for my entire breast cancer journey, and she offered a coupon to pick up a free item at the coffee shop afterwards. As she pressed the wand on my skin, she remarked, "This looks like healthy tissue." When she was finished, she had to show everything to the doctor, but felt confident I would get the green light to go. She came back with the blue coupon for a free item at the deli and word that the doctor had passed me. I thanked her for her kindness, and she helped me navigate the maze back to my clothes. On my way out, I treated myself to a vanilla latte, knowing I had some nuts and fruit stashed in my bag to nibble on during my errands on the way home.
This is my third screening mammogram since the diagnosis. I remember after the last two I couldn't hold back the tears when I got the good news. This time, while I was extremely relieved, I wasn't as emotional about the results. Perhaps I had more time to experience God's peace. Maybe I'm getting used to this process. Maybe I'm still waiting for the all-clear from my oncologist next week, after the results of the blood test for things like tumor markers. Maybe I just want to feel thankful and not tearful. When I texted some of my friends and posted the good news on Facebook, though, the heart-felt responses brought tears to my eyes. I guess it's still a big deal, even though I am getting better at it!
Since it was a fasting blood test, I hadn't eaten anything since last night, but all I was in the mood for as I headed to mammography was a bottle of water. I saw my friend Pam briefly before getting called back to change into the warm robe. I waited through a cup of tea and another glass of water before finally being called back for the x-rays. Because of problems with my thyroid, I always ask for the thyroid guard. I did this on my own, based on a recommendation from someone on a breast cancer website, but last summer I asked my endocrinologist what he thought. He said it was a good idea to protect my thyroid from any radiation exposure I could. After being manipulated and squished by the 3-D imaging machine, I was asked to go wait again in the waiting room.
The minutes ticked slowly by. I prayed for others in the room, especially those who were waiting on results like me. I prayed for my friend Pam who had probably gotten her mammogram by now. Some new ladies came. Some of the others were called back and left. I still waited. The verse that kept repeating in my mind was, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4)
The Breast Center is not what I would call the valley of the shadow of death. The people there, from the receptionists, the assistants, the technicians and doctors are all amazing people. I always feel respected and cared for when I enter into the back waiting room. The shadow of death, though, is the cancer that might be lingering inside me. Cancer could mean death. Yet, I knew God was with me, every step of the way. I felt His presence. Every time I wondered if I should be worrying about the length of time that has passed, I reminded myself that God had my back, the peace I was feeling was what I was supposed to be feeling. Then the technicians called me back to take a few new films. She asked me if I had a port-a-cath. I told her I did. She thought that scar tissue from that had shown up on my film, but the doctor wanted to take some other angles on my right side and be sure. My right side is the good side. The cancer was in my left side.... I was pretty confident that it was scar tissue, so my blood pressure stayed normal as I submitted to more squeezing and breath holding.
Back to the waiting room I went. More time to pray. There was the cutest little boy of about 4 years old who came in with his mom. I loved watching him interact with his mom, trying not to be too obvious about it. She had gone in and come back, too. I prayed that she didn't have anything serious going on, but she looked so peaceful, flipping through a magazine and answering every question fired at her by her son. They were called back in and I was left alone to continue to pray.
Finally, the technician came back and said, even though it looks like it was scar tissue on the second films, the doctor wanted to be certain. She walked me down to ultrasound, where I waited again. A very nice ultrasound technician ushered me back to a room, where I lay on my back and she prepped the machine. I told her how I had started at 9 a.m. with a fasting blood test and I was getting a little hungry. It was now closing in on noon. She was so sympathetic of my wait, in fact she was sorry for my entire breast cancer journey, and she offered a coupon to pick up a free item at the coffee shop afterwards. As she pressed the wand on my skin, she remarked, "This looks like healthy tissue." When she was finished, she had to show everything to the doctor, but felt confident I would get the green light to go. She came back with the blue coupon for a free item at the deli and word that the doctor had passed me. I thanked her for her kindness, and she helped me navigate the maze back to my clothes. On my way out, I treated myself to a vanilla latte, knowing I had some nuts and fruit stashed in my bag to nibble on during my errands on the way home.
This is my third screening mammogram since the diagnosis. I remember after the last two I couldn't hold back the tears when I got the good news. This time, while I was extremely relieved, I wasn't as emotional about the results. Perhaps I had more time to experience God's peace. Maybe I'm getting used to this process. Maybe I'm still waiting for the all-clear from my oncologist next week, after the results of the blood test for things like tumor markers. Maybe I just want to feel thankful and not tearful. When I texted some of my friends and posted the good news on Facebook, though, the heart-felt responses brought tears to my eyes. I guess it's still a big deal, even though I am getting better at it!
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