Tag Archives: breast cancer blog

Leaving Las Vegas

8 Aug
Vector image of the Las Vegas sign.

Three years ago I was on a road trip to, of all places, Las Vegas. I say “of all places” because I am not a gambler nor much of a drinker and the thought of spending a weekend in smoke-filled casinos has about as much appeal as getting a root canal. I have always been extremely allergic to cigarette smoke. And with cancer on both sides of my family, the smell of smoke has always made me anxious.

My girlfriends were persistent. “It will be fun, a girls weekend”.  They showed me pictures of the suite that we would share. It was beautiful (think of the movie “The Hangover”, cut the suite in half and get rid of the tiger and you have a pretty good picture of what we had for the weekend).

I had been feeling incredibly tired for months (I did not yet know I had cancer, but, my extreme tiredness was one of the unnoticed signs of the battle my body was waging against the cancer within). Suddenly the idea of hanging out for three days in a luxury suite while my girlfriends gambled and went to shows (or whatever it is that people do in Vegas) started to have some appeal. I just wanted to rest. I remember how tired I felt then and how much I just wanted to do absolutely nothing. Which, by the way, is so NOT me.

At the last-minute, one of my girlfriend’s sisters (MJ – a breast cancer survivor) was able to join us. We had never met. I drove. MJ sat in the front with me and my two girl friends sat in the back and slept most of the trip to Vegas. The drive gave me and MJ an opportunity to get to know each other.

A little distance into our trip, she began to share her breast cancer experience with me. There were details of how she was diagnosed, of chemotherapy, and a bi-lateral mastectomy. But in particular (probably because it was something she was currently dealing with) she discussed her breast reconstruction surgeries in quite a bit of detail. I remember thinking, wow, I could never go through that. I was amazed at all she had endured.

She told me how the surgeries went. She described how she was about to get “new nipples”, how tattooing would be used to create a new areola and skin from her groin area taken to create the nipples. It was a bit more than I was comfortable hearing. It was so personal, so detailed and we were complete strangers. At one point, she raised up her top to show me what had been done to date.

MJ’s story had quite an impact on me that day. Little did I know, the very drug that saved her life back in 2005 (Herceptin) would, in a matter of months, be coursing through my veins to do the same (I hope) magic.

Not since that road trip have I heard much in the way of truly frank discussions of breast reconstruction. It simply is not an easy topic. Although, MJ had no problem sharing her story with me, perhaps it was because we did not know each other. It becomes a different matter, I think, when it is our friends, our families our colleagues.

Chemobabe has recently taken on this topic in her blog. And another favorite blog of mine, Nancy’s Point. addresses wholeness after breast cancer (with or without reconstruction). And a few years ago, this post (by a blogger who is actually a high school classmate of mine) addresses sexuality after breast cancer reconstruction surgery in her blog: “Breast Cancer the Second Time Around”

So why is it so difficult to discuss?

Breast cancer has provided me a very interesting window into our society. I know sex sells. I know breasts sell, I know, I know, I KNOW! (And, there is a lot written about groups that use sexy names to sell awareness of the disease and to raise funds for research – something that is a whole other topic).

But, until you have had your breasts removed, and until you have been forced to deal with the pressures that be (everyone else’s expectations of what you should or should not do) you really can’t fully understand how much having breasts and being perceived as a woman are so deeply linked. And it goes way beyond sex. And perhaps it is why groups with names like “Save the Ta-tas” and “Feel Your Boobies” are sometimes seen as offensive to those of us that no longer have ta-tas to save or feel.

Initially I was not sure what I wanted to do reconstruction wise. I simply wanted to survive. The last thing I wanted to worry about was breast reconstruction while I was battling an aggressive form of breast cancer.

But, there were other issues I had to consider too. (As a business owner and an employer I felt the need to minimize my time out, time off from work would have broad implications. And, there were other concerns: how long would I have to sit out from playing music, and insurance issues). It was not an easy decision at all. But after a great deal of thought, I decided to have “immediate” breast reconstruction surgery (knowing full well there was nothing immediate about it).

I admit, I felt pressured to begin reconstruction “immediately”. I realize now that this was not perhaps the best route to go (multiple surgeries while going through immune suppressing treatment is not the safest route it turns out). I spent months on IV antibiotics due to infections at the surgical sites (daily nurse visits to my home, an IV pole in my living room . . . okay, I know you get it . . . cancer is not much fun). But, my point is that had I waited on the surgery (which was never presented to me as a real option) I probably would have avoided the multiple infections and loss of skin that occurred (sorry if that is too much information, but, that is what can happen: “morbidity” of your skin, especially radiated skin).

So, I could have waited. But, it is what it is and I prefer not to look backwards. But, there is no reason why someone else can’t perhaps make a better informed decision by hearing of my experience.

Incidentally, I had what is called a lat flap procedure. This was the only option for me. Oddly, I got a lot of grief over my decision to do the lat flap from women at a breast cancer support group. I believe they meant well, I know they did, but, I found it a little upsetting.

I had, after all, consulted with many surgeons, I did research, I am not stupid (at least I didn’t think of myself that way). So, since it was not the kind of support I needed at the time I simply stopped going to the group. I knew for me it was the best decision I could make at the time. Those of us faced with these kinds of choices do not go about it without a lot of thought. As a result, when we are questioned about our decisions – our very hard to make choices – it is frustrating and I suppose, a little insulting.

My wish is that for newly diagnosed women, facing a mastectomy or other breast altering surgery, lumpectomy etc, is that they are presented with all options (not having reconstruction, having it “immediately” and having reconstruction at a later date). And my second wish is for those facing these choices that they be given the time, un-pressured time, to make their decision. And above all, as Chemobabe points out, once the decision has been made . . . it would be nice to have it trusted, not challenged or questioned.

There simply is not a one-size-fits-all approach to reconstructive surgery (whether to have it all, when to have it or type) any more than there is a one-size-fits-all bra.

There is light at the end of the tunnel . . .

25 Jul
Crowded summertime beach in Avalon, Santa Cata...

Avalon

It is funny how sometimes when you are forced (or force yourself) to do something difficult, it becomes easier.

I have to study for an upcoming professional exam. I don’t mind studying, I actually have always enjoyed it. But, since cancer my body is not the same. Things that were once quite easy can sometimes be very difficult. One of those things is sitting in the same position for a long time . . . something you kind of need to be able to do to study (at least I need to do it that way). Well, I started studying in short time frames and built up to longer time frames and now, while I can’t say I am back to my normal study stamina, I am definitely in a far better position than I was even just a few weeks ago.

So, I have been forcing myself to sit and study for as long as I can without taking a break. Then, when I absolutely have to, I take a break and return to it. My body hurts, my legs and arms go numb and it is uncomfortable and irritating. But, it is what it is. AND, I am quite happy to report that what I can do today is vastly more than what I could accomplish even just a few weeks ago. It really has in its own way (my studying) been a type of physical therapy.

I can only imagine how much better I will be after a few more weeks and then a few more weeks and so on.

The most challenging thing for me post cancer has been the feeling of losing my old self. I don’t mean losing my breasts and having my old breasts replaced with scarred up “reconstructed” breasts. Nope. I chose a bilateral mastectomy. I had cancer in one breast and chose to have both breasts removed. That choice made me feel empowered, not depressed, strong, not weak . . . and in some small way in control.

My point is that I am not so bothered by the scars on my body. It is the physical limitations (pain, exhaustion, lack of energy) that bother me the most. And it is those things that make me feel less like myself. (And, a little pissed).

Nowadays, post cancer, I often find myself having to choose which things to do in a given day, a given week, etc. simply because I don’t have enough energy or pain free time to do what I normally would do. And, I have found that very frustrating.

For example, recently I spent the day with friends on Catalina Island. It was a wonderful day. The weather was perfect and the company even better. But, knowing that I had this day trip planned meant to me that I had to figure out how much I could or could not do the preceding day and week because if I did too much, I would then be too tired for Catalina. It is like having a bank account without enough funds to meet your expenditures. I am in the red physically.

So it goes . . . my post cancer existence. And just so I am clear – I don’t mean not partying until 2:00 am the night before (that isn’t really my thing anyway). I mean not “over-extending myself” the day before – which can simply mean – letting the laundry go another day, and simply taking it really easy. On this occasion, it meant turning down a last minute dinner invitation. I couldn’t just say, “hey, I would love to come, but, I have a big day tomorrow and doing both will be too much for me” . . . or . . . could I? Instead I said, “I would love to, but, I already have plans” (yeah, plans to lie in bed for the rest of the night . . . argh).

It is a balancing act and I am getting better at it . . . better at knowing my limits and better at pushing my limits too.

This studying has been a wonderful thing because it has definitely improved my physical stamina for concentrated work (something that makes me very, very happy).

Prior to cancer I was working on a new book. I had to drop work on it during chemo because my brain was, well, fried. And looking back now on some of the blog posts I wrote during those days, I am certain that it was a wise choice to postpone finishing the book (chemobrain is real, at least it was for me).

But, after the past several weeks of studying, I know that now I could sit down and write for hours in a day. And that, my friends, is a huge, huge deal because it means that I am that much closer to getting my life back.

I know I will still have to make choices between which things I can do in a given day or week. But, the feeling I have had of being sidetracked by this disease is beginning to fade. I am dismissing it every day that I force myself to sit through the discomfort and study. It is a good feeling. Oh, and a day trip to Catalina Island with great friends is a pretty good way to leave some of the leftover pains from cancer behind me too.

Some pictures from this summer and last summer . . . what a difference a year makes :)

27 Aug

Me and my cousin Suzanne . . . two weeks ago at my nephew's 2nd birthday party

My parents, love this photo, they just celebrated their 53rd wedding anniversary!

Two weeks ago, celebrating my nephew's 2nd birthday!

Playing with my blues group a few weeks ago.

Playing with "Huge Blues" at Bistro 400, July 30, 2010

July 2009, almost done with chemo

Goofing around with my brother and my nephew, Bowers Museum, July 2009

Dana Point, a break from chemo to hear some music with my cousins, June 2009

I felt like crab . . . thank you David 🙂 July 2009

Dana Point concert last summer

Early on in chemo, last spring, sometime in April 2009 . . . My brother Steve shaved his head . . . awe 🙂

One year ago today . . .

14 Feb

Last year, on Friday the 13th no less, I received a phone call, instead of a letter, from my doctor’s office about my last mammogram results. When I had the mammogram, my doctor told me that I would either get a letter in a couple of weeks or, if anything showed up, then they would call me. He conducted a physical exam first, told me he didn’t feel anything abnormal in either of my breasts (and neither did I, by the way) and that most likely I would hear in a couple of weeks by mail – meaning nothing to worry about.

Instead, I got a phone call late in the day on Friday, February 13th. I was feverishly grading exams that had to be returned to my students by our final class to be held that Sunday. So, since I didn’t recognize the number, I let it go to voice mail and kept grading.

I checked my voice mail the next day, it was a vague message (naturally), but, I had a pretty good idea of what it meant. The doctor’s assistant actually gave me her cell phone to call her back. So, the next day, on Valentine’s day, I called her. We played phone tag until she finally reached me back (I was on the phone with my brother Steve at the time, telling him that I didn’t get the letter, that instead I got a phone call and that I was worried and so on and then she called). I spoke with her and she told me that the mammogram showed a mass and that I had to have a biopsy.

As much as I hoped that it would be one of those things that turned out benign, I knew that it wouldn’t. I just felt it, I can’t explain it really. I just knew it.

So, I went back to work, finished grading my exams, taught the last class of the course the next day and then on Monday scheduled my biopsy.  They wanted me to do it as soon as possible and so to speed things up, I was told I could pick up the mammogram films and deliver them to the facility where I would have the biopsy.

I of course did this. I remember walking down a long, cold corridor, looking for the room to pick up my films. I remember signing for them. I remember the woman at the counter sealing up the oversize envelope that contained the pictures of my breasts and telling me I was not supposed to look inside, that the information was for the doctor.

I remember walking back through that cold corridor and feeling the weight of the films growing heavier and heavier in my hand, and, as I left the building and walked through the parking lot to my car . . . heavier and heavier still.

I of course opened up the envelope as soon as I got back to my car. I didn’t look at the films, I didn’t want to touch them, as if in doing so, somehow it might spread. I know that sounds weird, but really, I was terrified to even touch or look at the films. But, I did look at the one white piece of paper and I read the typed letters: ” . . . biopsy ordered to confirm malignancy . . . ”

I put the paper back in the envelope, sealed it up and drove it to the facility where I would come back a few days later for a biopsy.

I never shared those words with anyone then. Why should I have? What for? No doctor was going to tell me that it couldn’t be benign. No radiologist, no person, no one was going to take away the hope that I would carry for the next weeks that the biopsy would show that the mass was just a benign cyst. And so I went about my business, albeit in a little bit of a fog, but truly hoping for some miracle. For some OTHER explanation than cancer for why I had been so tired the past many months, nearly a year now – for why I just didn’t seem to rebound the way I used to after a long day or week of work.

I promised myself, whatever the outcome, that next year’s Valentine’s Day would be a better one. And I know it will be. I did not get the news that I wanted last year. But, I have learned a lot about life in the past 12 months. I have learned a lot about myself, about regrets, about not having regrets in the future, and about how to live. I have learned how wonderful and beautiful people can be, how near strangers can become some of your most steadfast supporters and cheerleaders and I have gained so much strength from all of you, my family and friends and . . . I am here.

I watched a movie a couple of days ago called “Crazy, Sexy Cancer” (got it from the library). It was supposed to be an upbeat film/documentary about a woman who was diagnosed with cancer. It was, I enjoyed it. But, here is how it started: “Happy Valentine’s Day, you have cancer.” Apparently that was the day that the woman, whom the documentary was about, found out she had cancer.

My Mom and I were watching it together and I turned to her and said THAT was the day, last year, last Valentine’s Day, when I knew I had cancer. Bizarre. Anyway, it’s been a year now. And, assuming all is going well, I am nearly done with treatment (at least all of the IV type of treatment). There are still some medications to take or at least one to take – but, that is to be worked out still. I will have a bunch of tests in May to see where I am at and will have tests forever I guess (since I plan on being around a very long time).

Well, another ramble during another sleepless night – but the night isn’t quite over yet, so maybe I will go get some sleep now 🙂

Please continue to keep me in your prayers and send positive thoughts my way, I still very much need it. And, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Much love,

L.

"Huge Blues" . . . the band, not my state of mind :)

11 Jul

Huge Blues BaldThis is a picture of our blues band, “Huge Blues”. From left to right: Tim lewis – vocals and guitar, Brett Caplinger – harmonica, Paul Hughes – guitar, center, me – stand up bass and vocals.  The whole band is bald now 🙂  Paul shaved his head so we would all be bald 🙂 Thank you for doing that Paul, very sweet. My brother Steve also shaved his head. He did it on the same day that I did. He lives in San Diego and sent me a picture from his cell phone as soon as he had done it. I will post a picture of the two of us up here soon.

Huge Blues is playing at the Orange County Fair tomorrow at 3:15 on the main stage. It should be fun. Hopefully it will not be too hot. The heat is not my friend these days. But, it is a short gig, so it should be fine.