Me and My Sis

Most of you already know the story, but just to recap, in August of 2005, at the age of 33, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. One month later, at the age of 31, my sister Tamara was also diagnosed with breast cancer. Most of you know the rest of the story of how we went through chemotherapy, double mastectomies and multiple reconstruction surgeries. Today, two and half years later, we are healthy and strong again and believe that we are truly cancer survivors! We have always been close as sisters, but the cancer experience has brought us even closer. Not only do we share the same DNA, now we share the same experience of knowing what it is like to come face to face with our mortality. Life for both of us is mostly back to normal, but there are always those moments when we realize that life will never be the same as it was before the cancer. We have been forever changed by this cancer experience. Some days I embrace that fact and make plans to help other cancer survivors with their battles. Other days I curse the cancer and curse the day that I learned exactly what takes place during a mastectomy and the pain that follows or the fact that a port had to be placed inside my chest because the chemotherapy drugs I received were so poisonous that my normal arm veins could not handle them. Today is a good day….and my sister and I have decided to help others in this great battle against cancer. In celebration of our own battle and triumph over breast cancer we plan to ride our bicycles together across the state of Iowa the last week in July as part of RAGBRAI and Team Livestrong. We are proud to help raise funds for cancer research and awareness so that others faced with this disease may also be survivors!! For those of you that follow my blog, I plan to try to do blog entries along the route so that you can keep up with our progress across the state of Iowa.

If you wish to donate to the cause click here to see my personal Livestrong page.

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=259771&supid=127641041

If for some reason this link is not live, just cut and paste it into your internet browser.

Thank you for supporting the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

Your contribution is greatly appreciated.

Vote “Yes” to End Cancer

Next Tuesday, November 6^th Texans are voting on a historic amendment to the constitution of Texas which could put and end to cancer in our lifetime. Did you know that this year alone, more than 95,000 Texans will be diagnosed with cancer, and more than 37,000 Texans will lose their lives to the disease? Nearly 1 in 2 men and 1 in 3 women in Texas will develop cancer during their lifetime, and cancer costs Texans $30 billion a year in direct and indirect costs. Proposition 15 is a constitutional amendment which, if passed, will authorize up to $3 billion in state general revenue bonds to fund cancer research, prevention, early detection and control programs. Prop 15, if passed, will also establish the Cancer Prevention and Research Institute of Texas which will conduct research to prevent or cure cancer, support existing cancer research efforts in Texas, and implement the Texas Cancer Plan, a statewide blueprint for cancer prevention and control.

I know what you are saying, “Shouldn’t the federal government be taking this type of action?” Yes, it should, but for the last few years the federal government has instead cut millions of dollars from the budget previously allocated to research for finding cures for cancer. So, Lance Armstrong and other prominent cancer survivors in Texas have decided to take matters into their own hands to build a research facility in Texas with the stated goal of “Finding a Cure for Cancer In our Lifetime”.

Most of you already know my story, but I will take a few minutes to recap and explain why this Proposition is so important for all of us. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 33 and my sister at the age of 31. Prior to our cancer diagnosis, no one in our family had ever had cancer……no parents, no grandparents, not even any aunts and uncles. Also, my sister and I have none of the risk factors for breast cancer. So what caused us to both to get cancer at such a young age? No one knows. There has simply not been enough research to clearly identify anything more than a few sketchy risk factors. My sister and I are not alone. Incidents of cancer keep increasing at an alarming rate, especially in younger individuals who where previously thought to be more immune to cancer. I don’t know about you, but I want to find out what on earth we are doing to give ourselves cancer. And, if my cancer should return, I want to make sure that drugs exist which can cure my cancer. And most importantly I want this all to happen in my lifetime. I do not want my 3 year old son to be at the same risk for cancer that I am! And if God forbid my son ever does get cancer, I want to make sure that drugs exist that can cure him.

So I urge you all to vote “yes” to Proposition 15. If not for yourself, then do it for your children. We have to end cancer now so that our children will have a future.

Please pass this along to anyone in Texas registered to vote and please, please get out and vote on November 6^th.

Feel Your Boobies!

Recently through the young survivor group that I co-founded, I met another survivor whose breast cancer story runs parallel to mine through time, but unlike mine does not have a happy ending. Like me she gave birth to a beautiful baby 3 and half years ago. Like me she found a lump in her left breast while she was breast feeding her beautiful baby. Like me she went to her OBGYN for advice and was referred for a mammogram and ultra sound. That is where our stories diverge. The results of my ultrasound where very suspicion, so I went to a breast surgeon and was diagnosed with what turned out to be stage II breast cancer through a core biopsy of my breast (which left I pretty significant hole in my breast). My fellow survivor also went to a breast surgeon, but for some reason did not do a biopsy of the lump and was sent away with a “lets keep an eye on it” recommendation. During the same year that I underwent chemotherapy to blast the cancer out of every nook and cranny of my body, her cancer grew unchecked into stage IV cancer, metastasizing to her spine, shoulders, hips, liver and lungs. She was not diagnosed until she finally collapsed from the pain of the crushed vertebra that had been eaten away by the cancer in her spine. Breast cancer, unlike other cancers, cannot be truly cured once it has metastasized to other parts of the body. And even when the cancer is caught early before it has spread beyond the breast, breast cancer patients are never considered cured because it can always come back as metastatic cancer in another part of your body. Major advances have been made in medicines that can help keep the cancer at bay for long periods of time (even years), but eventually metastatic breast cancer is usually terminal. So while I will hopefully go on to live a long and healthy life and see my baby boy graduate from college, my fellow survivor will probably die from her breast cancer and leave her young child without a mother. So my message to everyone is one of vigilance. You, and only you, are responsible for your body and your health. When you feel something suspicious, get a mammogram, an MRI, a CT scan, a biopsy or whatever else it takes to get an answer as to exactly what that lump is in your breast. And don’t ever take no for an answer. If one doctor blows you off, find another. I have a number of T-shirts and stickers that I wear in public that say “Feel Your Boobies”. These usually attract a lot of attention, but the message on my T-shirt is deadly serious! Feel Your Boobies every day if that is what it takes. If you don’t want to feel them yourself than have your boyfriend, husband or lover do it for you. And if you find a lump, for God’s sake go find out what it is!!

http://www.feelyourboobies.com/

I am back in the saddle!

Last weekend was the annual LiveStrong weekend in Austin, Texas benefiting the Lance Armstrong Foundation. The festivities included a 5K run on Saturday and a bike ride on Sunday through the beautiful Texas hill country both of which raised over $3 million for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. My husband and I have participated in the LiveStrong ride each year since its inception (formerly known as the Ride for the Roses) in memory of his mother who died of cancer when he was in his early twenties. In fact our relationship has been built on biking. My husband has been an avid biker his entire life, and we met when I was just beginning to bike. He taught me everything I know about biking and over the years we grew to be a great biking team. One of our favorites has always been riding 100 mile bike rides on a tandem bike (a bicycle built for two). With my husband’s expert bike handling skills up front and my strong legs in the back we made a great team. For the last two years I have been too weak or in too much pain to do the LiveStrong ride. However, this year was different, because I felt strong again. I am now 18 months out from my chemotherapy treatments and over a year out from my double mastectomy. Although I had not specifically trained to run a 5K and had not been on my road bike in over 4 years, I made a last minute decision to participate in the LiveStrong weekend this year. The Saturday 5K run went well, and I finished strong in about 31 minutes….still slow for me, but acceptable given that I had not trained. At the finish line the participants who are cancer survivors are diverted into a separate lane and handed a yellow rose as they run through. The girl handing out the rose took one look at me and told me that the roses where only for cancer survivors. I showed her the survivor sign on my back and she turned red and handed me a rose. Although I was momentarily offended, I took this as a compliment. What it ment to me was that I don’t look like a cancer survivor anymore. I have hair and a healthy glow and must have looked strong running through the finish line. On Sunday morning long before the sun came up my husband and I headed out to the bike ride with a borrowed tandem bike, a bike trailer to haul our 36 pound son, and a very sleepy 3 year old. We had a rocky start having blown the only bike tube we had for the bike trailer, but after borrowing another tube we jumped into the bike ride right behind Lance Armstrong and his entourage of famous supporters. I felt like a rock star the entire ride. Everyone that passed us could see the survivor sign on my back and had words of encouragement and something funny to say about the fact that we where hauling our son in the bike trailer behind us. We had intended to do a 60 mile ride, but found that hauling our 36 pound son plus another 15 pounds of gear in the trailer turned out to be more challenging than we had thought. We ended up doing the 45 mile loop and finishing strong just in time for lunch. Again, as we rolled across the finish line the girl handing out roses took one look at me and pulled back the rose. I finally got my rose, but not before I had to show my survivor sign to someone. I took it as a compliment again, realizing that I no longer look weak and frail like people expect a cancer survivor to look. The other thing I learned from the weekend was how important it is for survivors to participate in events like this. I was the inspiration for so many riders to get out there and raise money for the Lancer Armstrong Foundation. When they saw me riding, they realized that their efforts where not in vain and that the money they raised was going to help cancer survivors like me live long and healthy lives. It was a wonderful feeling to finally be back in the saddle!! And what could be better than pedaling up hills with my husband in front of me encouraging me to “keep pedaling” and my son behind me yelling “faster mommy, faster”? I felt healthy and strong again for the first time in a long time, long time!

Why, Why, Why?

I thought I was done asking the question “Why” until last week when I learned that one of my friends and a fellow young breast cancer survivor was diagnosed with a metastasis of her breast cancer (i.e. her breast cancer has shown up in other organs of her body.) I held it together all day, but in the car on the way home I finally let myself break down. My son was in the car with me and kept asking me why I was sad. The only appropriate thing I could think of to say was “one of mommy’s friends is sick”. My mind just kept screaming why, why, why her? There is just no logical explanation as to why breast cancer reoccurs and metastasizes in one person, but not another. The research does show that breast cancer is more likely to be more aggressive and more advanced in younger women. However, that still does not answer the question of why the chemotherapy and hormone therapy seem to work for one person, but not the next……and more importantly did the chemotherapy and hormone therapy work for me? I know that my reaction to this situation is a bit irrational, but my fear of a recurrence of my own is very real. Over the next few days I began to freak out over every little potential ache or pain, thinking…”What is that?” “Is my cancer back?” “Is it in my bones?” For the last few months I have been plagued with bouts of bronchitis and asthma, so I called up my doctor to see if I needed a chest X-ray. He did not think I needed a chest X-ray, so I made an appointment with him to try to convince him that I need a PET Scan instead which would show any cancer in my body. Again, I know I am being a little irrational, but this is how I deal with my fear of a recurrence. It is the only way I know how to deal with it. I try to work out every day because I know that decreases my chance of a recurrence by 50%. I try to eat healthy organic foods because I know that pesticides contribute to breast cancer. I take my Tamoxifen (hormone therapy) every day, despite its unpleasant side effects. The problem is my friend did all these things too, so why her and not me? It’s almost as if the cancer has already determined what it is going to do and there is nothing I can do about it, but wait and see if it comes back. So, I reaffirm my pledge to continue to make sure that I live each day of my life to the fullest. Yesterday with my husband and son, I visited a local springs and waterfall. I eagerly climbed up a big rock to stand directly under the waterfall so that I could feel the ice cold spring water pour over my entire body and then I jumped off into the deep blue swimming hole below. I felt so alive! Right then and there, I promised myself that I would take more time out of my busy schedule to do things that make me feel that alive!

“Did you say tattoos?”

The first time I visited with my plastic surgeon about my breast reconstruction process following my double mastectomy, he said that the final detail would be for me to get tattoos to recreate the color for my areolas. At the time I remember thinking I needed to get my ears checked, and asked “Did you say tattoos?” I had visions of showing up at a local tattoo parlor to be tattooed by a local tattoo artist with dreadlocks and a million tattoos on his body. As strange at it sounds, last week I completed the final step in my reconstruction by getting two tattoos, one on each of my areolas. Thankfully, my doctor has hired a registered nurse to perform the duties of the tattoo artists in a very clean and sterile medical office. When I first arrived at the office for my “tattooing” the nurse began to ask me all kinds of questions such as what color were my areolas pre-mastectomy and how big they were. I had to admit that I honestly had forgotten. Fortunately, my plastic surgeon had taken photographs, so she was able to print a nice colored photograph of my pre-mastectomy breasts. I had forgotten what they looked like, and was actually very surprised to realize that I actually prefer my post-mastectomy breasts. Yes, they are that good! Anyway, back to the task at had, together we picked out a color and she got right to work. I have to say that it was a little gross to watch, but luckily I could not feel a thing since I still do not have any sensation in my breasts. 10 minutes later I was bandaged and on my way out the door. The next day I was able to remove the bandages and take a look. They look great! They are the same color as before and seem to really complete the look of my new man-made breasts. In fact, in the locker room at my gym a couple women have asked who my plastic surgeon is, not knowing that I have reconstructed breasts, but instead thinking that I have had a boob job or a lift. In addition, I feel more confident at the gym. I used to cower a bit in the dressing room not completely confident in my newly reconstructed breasts. Now I am happy to show them off to any of the other women in the locker room. I can’t help but marvel at the miracle of modern medicine and realize how thankful I am that I have been put back together with such skill and competence.

My last surgery

On January 18, 2007 my alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. It did not matter because I had been lying in bed awake since 4:30 a.m. My head had been swirling with questions for my surgeon and other little to dos I knew that I needed to try and remember but realized that I would likely forget during my three hour general anesthesia nap later that morning. I knew the drill all too well: no jewelry, no make-up, loose clothing, don’t take anything valuable to the hospital. By 7:45 a.m. we were checked into our pre-surgery room and waiting for the anesthesiologist and plastic surgeon to come by and visit. My son was safely home with a baby-sitter, still sleeping in his crib and oblivious to the fact that his mom was about to go under general anesthesia for the seventh time over the last year and half in order for my plastic surgeon to complete the final phase of the reconstruction of my breasts. After talking with my anesthesiologist long enough to assure myself that he was on top of his game and would not let me die on the operating table, I turned by attention to my plastic surgeon who had whipped out a marker and was drawing on my breasts and abdomen. First he drew an elliptical shape on my lower abdomen as a reference point for the skin he planned to cut off and use as skin graphs to re-create my areolas. He then put dots on my breasts where he planned to cut the skin to create the illusion of nipples and finally lines to indicate the incision he would make that would allow him to pull out the tissue expander implants under my chest muscle and replace them with nice soft silicon implants. Before long it was time to say good-by to my husband and take one last look at the picture I had brought of my son. I always feel a moment of panic as they wheel me down the hall away from my husband. That was soon replaced by the feeling that I had just drunk two margaritas as a sedative began to fill my veins. The next thing I remember was waking up to a blurry vision of my surgeon telling me that the surgery went well and that he had explained everything to my husband. As always I woke up cranky from my anesthesia. But unlike my last surgery, I had very little pain. I have no feeling in my breasts post mastectomy, so I could not even feel the incisions my surgeon had made in my chest. I had two drains coming out of me again to drain away any excess fluids created by the body due to the surgery. Also the incision on my abdomen for the skin graph was really sore, but not sore enough to keep me from going home after an hour in the recovery room. Five days after my surgery, my bandages where removed. I took a deep breath and then took a peek at the results. My silicon implants are an instant hit because they are so much more comfortable than the tissue expanders, and they look and feel much like real breasts. The nipples are pretty realistic, and the areolas look pretty life-like. I know that in time all my scars will heal and fade, but for now I still get a bit woozy every time I look at myself in the mirror. What upsets me is the sheer number of scars on my mere 35 year old body. I wonder what those scars will look like when I am 80. Then I realize that for the first time in a long time I am actually visualizing myself at the ripe old age of 80. That means that I finally believe that this ordeal is over. I feel like I have emerged from a long dark tunnel into the light and I can now see my life stretching out in front of me. I survived breast cancer and I plan to make the most of the rest of my life.