Tuesday, December 11, 2012

A clean bill of health

My surgeon called last night with the absolute best news ever. The final pathology was negative; both for the nodes and breast tissue. I am officially cancer free.

The emotion that overcame me at that moment was incredible. I could only say thank you over and over again to my doctor.

An amazing amazing feeling.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Moving forward

Bilateral mastectomy done. Tissue expander implanted. Now in full recovery and pain management mode. December 3rd was a long day to say the least. We checked in at 6am and I was wheeled into surgery around 10:45 and out around 5:30. The surgery was a success. The initial pathology during surgery on the nodes came back negative; there's still a slight chance the post-surgical pathology will come back positive but the doctors are optimistic.

Recovery is hard. The night after surgery was a haze of pain and nausea. The nurses gave me a rainbow of drugs to help with both but nothing seemed to work. Even my PCP drug button wasn't doing the trick. I attempted to eat...first ice cream (because why not, right?) then threw up about 10 minutes later then graham crackers which I kept down for a good 20. Then I decided to give up for the night and attempt sleep, which didn't really didn't really come easy.

Tuesday morning, my surgeon woke me up to check up on me. He took my bandages off and I got a glance at my new (let's be honest) butchered chest. He said he couldn't have asked for better - that my skin is in great condition and will do great for the reconstruction. Wonderful news. He wants me to walk around and asks the nurse to take the catheter out so I'm forced to get up to go to the bathroom. I don't feel ready for this at all, but I complied.

9am JM came for a visit with a bagel which was delicious - I hadn't eaten since Sunday night and I finally felt like I could keep food down for more than 20 minutes. The nurse suggested that I get up and attempt a walk down the 10' hallway. After my success with the bagel, I thought it would be a good idea. At this point I hadn't gotten out of bed since Monday morning before surgery. Moving my body never felt so painful - everything hurt and felt weak. I finally stood on my two feet and felt ok, took a few steps and in walks the plastic surgeon who thankfully advices the nurse that I look like I need to sit down...and out goes that delicious bagel I just devoured. Boo. I still need to use the bathroom so I waddle to the bathroom with JM's help and somehow make it back to the bed and out goes whatever else I have left in my stomach. It was only 11am and I felt completely defeated and done.

The day did get better. The doctor gave me new pain meds, a muscle relaxer and more anti-nausea meds. I got chicken noodle soup for dinner and successfully digested it, got up and went for a walk around the post-op ward and even watched a movie on my iPad. Success!!!

Wednesday morning, I was discharged with two drains and meds to keep me happy for weeks. By Thursday I was able to get my left drain removed and the right one the next day. Recovering at home is better but far more frustrating than being at the hospital. I see JM doing everything for the girls and me not being able to do a thing. I feel completely useless...well, I am useless and in fact a burden because I have to ask for help with everything.

JM is an angel. He makes me laugh and forget my pain and has been my advocate throughout this whole ordeal. When he holds my hands, he makes me feel at home. When he kisses me, he makes me feel more loved than anybody in the world. His laughter is contagious and infects my whole being, and watching him be a good father makes me the happiest of all.

The girls have also been amazing. They help me get up from my chair, cover me with blankets, put my slippers on write me cards filled with love, and give me kisses and leg hugs since they know my chest is off limits. On Tuesday they came for a visit at the hospital and Anabelle held my water bottle, opened and fed me my saltine crackers so my med wouldn't make me sick. Both girls stood on either side of my bed holding my hands; both with smiles as wide as their little faces; never showing any worry in their faces. As a mother this is something I never wanted my kids to experience but I am so extremely proud of their maturity and compassion. JM told me later that in the hallway of the hospital Anabelle broke into tears from what she saw. I can't express how amazed I am at her strength to stay so strong in front of me...even making jokes to make me laugh.

This year has been the biggest challenge for all of us but I cannot wait for 2013. We all deserve an amazing 2013 and I know in my heart that it will be.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Thoughts of a husband and father

"The doctor called, he said it’s malignant." Shock. Fear. Confusion.
Sadness. DO NOT CRY. Denial. "It's ok. We're going to be ok."
No way. No way this is happening to my family. She is quietly
sobbing. Be strong for her. I can't stop myself; tears stream from
my eyes and panic fills my gut. Get a grip man. Pull over. Don’t
alarm the girls Get your head straight. Hold her. Soothe her.
Everything will be all right.

I will never forget the moment that Kana told me she has cancer;
unequivocally this was the scariest part of the whole ordeal because
of the unknown. Cancer is such a big word. A few years ago, my
family had just finished dealing with a breast cancer scare. My dad
had been diagnosed, had a lumpectomy and a couple weeks of radiation.
Lucky for us, he caught it extremely early. I remember being so
much more level headed; calming my mom and helping navigate the
medical decisions with my dad. After I told him about Kana, he
reminded me that life deals us cards and we make the most of what we
are given. Don’t give up just because you don't like what you have.
Play out the hand and try to come out on top. In between my dad’s
episode and Kana's diagnosis a friend of ours was diagnosed with
stomach cancer; stage IV. I remember calling her husband after I got
a text from him telling me the staging. The doctors had talked to
them about longevity. Kana and I were heartbroken. They have 2
beautiful kids together and I couldn't help but imagine what it would
be like if we were in their shoes. We had visited them in
Albuquerque because it was important to us to make sure that when we got together
we were all together when our kids met. After she passed her
husband sent me a text thanking me for being there for them. At the
time I didn't thank him for sharing his friendship with me. I
remember seeing him care for his wife and kids and admiring him for
being such a good father and husband. I remember feeling embarrassed
about the things I complain about. She passed a few months after our
visit and 1 year later we found out that Kana had cancer. Almost
immediately I thought of them. Their experience made what we are
facing scarier than it really is but at the same time easier. Easier
because we saw first hand that when thrown into the roughest waters
that life can churn out, all is not over. They showed us that love
for one another can get you through the darkest days by helping you
find appreciation in life and celebrate even its most simple things.

Seven months into treatment and cancer has become a normal part of our
life. Kana has lost her hair. Fatigue is an issue. Chemo has pushed
Kana into early menopause and her temperament has changed. She is
certainly still more level headed than me when I'm hungry or tired.
And you guys have seen her, still beautiful. Kana is like an orchid;
vibrant and full of life yet also delicate. I suppose life is like
that too. Nowadays, for me, living a fulfilling life is about the
appreciation of the most simple and minute details of my family life;
seeing Kana wake up from a nap during an infusion and smiling at me or
holding hands while watching the kids play in the backyard. I don’t
want to miss a single moment of it. Life can turn you onto your head
in a flash second so I don’t want take things for granted. Kana asked
me to describe the last few months in three words. "Aged ten years"
and we both had a laugh. I have thought about the next ten years a
lot lately, and how I want to enjoy as many moments, from the simple
and small to the monumental and epic with Kana, Anabelle and Sofia.

Our lives have changed forever. Temporarily challenged but as I've
seen Kana fight with such elegance and grace I know that our lives
have been enriched. When you try to leave for an infusion and you
hear your two year old crying "No want mama go chemo!" and hearing
from my sister that my 4 year old cried while watching the scene in
"Totoro" where the girls are trying to visit their mom in the hospital
but can't it breaks your heart. My girls have seen their mom fight
cancer and I hope that they see that there is no challenge in life
that can put them down. Get up and fight on. Mom did it and so can
you.

I'm finishing this entry three months after I started it. Kana
finished her last chemo infusion on October 30th. Her hair has started to grow
back and her beauty and vibrancy is starting to peek through the chemo
cloud that has been cast over her for the last six months. We still
have two more phases to go but supposedly surgery and radiation is a
cakewalk in comparison to the slow trudge through chemo. I want
everyone to think of the thing that they are most proud of in their
life. We all share that feeling of pride and accomplishment about
something and I know from deep within my soul, spirit, chakras,
whatever, that in my life I am most proud of Kana and I am truly
thankful that she is the mother of my children and the love of my
life. I look forward to celebrating life with my family and for the
opportunity that over the next 50 years, Kana will be by my side when
we watch our girls get married and play with our grand kids.

Now, on the eve of Kana's mastectomy I want to give my deepest thanks
and appreciation to our family and friends who have made this past 7
months easier and supported us. We are looking forward to finishing
up and celebrating with and thanking all of you in 2013!