Tag Archives: Breast

Komen Koolaid . . .

11 Mar

So, Julie of Orange County Komen sent me an email in response to my email in response to her email in response to my blog post: Komen Please Leave Me Alone

Here is Julie’s/Komen’s response to me (first, you may want to read the post below, from Friday):

“Hi Lisa,

I was not the person “chosen” to respond to you. In my position, it is my responsibility to be in the know about what is being said about our organization; your blog past came to me in an alert as did the post you shared with everyone today. My concern was not just to remove you from our list (however it is also my responsibility, along with one other person here to make sure people who do not wish to receive our information are removed from our list), but to reach out to you as a genuine human being, but as someone who can understand the frustration of trying to get help.

Again, I’m very sorry for the response you got from our organization in 2009. I was not here at the time and like I said, just a person trying to do what they can now. Tell me how I can help and I’m happy to do what I can.

 My contact info is below:

Julie A. Guevara

Manager of Marketing & Communications

Orange County Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure

3191-A Airport Loop Drive

Costa Mesa, CA 92626

T: 714.957.9157 Ext. 30 | F: 714-619-2678

Our Vision: A World Without Breast Cancer

BEST SCIENCE. BOLDEST COMMUNITY. BIGGEST IMPACT.

WE ARE THE CURE”

First of all, I love the “Best Science, Boldest Community, Biggest Impact. WE ARE THE CURE”(sic)

English: Mahindra 6030 Turbo tractor in downto...

I wonder how many women rushed out to get a mammogram after seeing this pink tractor . . . am I the only one who thinks pink porta-potties, tractors, golf carts, etc. in the name of "awareness" are a waste of money? Of course i am not. Sigh.

So there you have it. NO ONE from financial assistance can bother to get in touch with me, to answer my calls, to email me back, etc. But, it is apparently Julie’s “responsibility to be in the know about what is being said about our (komen) organization” and her other job is apparently “along with one other person” to make sure they remove me from their email list. Wow. Now that seems like a great use of “race for the cure” (TM – wouldn’t want SGK to sue me) dollars, doesn’t it?

Okay, so, giving Julie the benefit of the doubt here – she says she was not “chosen” by Komen to contact me and was instead contacting me as a “a genuine human being, but (sic) as someone who can understand the frustration of trying to get help” (her words, not really sure about the grammar here, but, I think she is simply trying to say that she cares).

Okay, well then DO something. FIX what is clearly BROKEN. Komen claims to provide financial assistance to breast cancer patients, provides a number for breast cancer patients to call – but, NO ONE ANSWERS the phone number!!! HELLO???

I am sorry Julie, but, I am unimpressed with your response. And as far as your asking me what you can do to help, I think I have made it pretty clear in my prior email to you. And, in fact, I asked you what YOU could do to help me NOW (since you said that you wished Komen could help me now; wished Komen could somehow “rectify the situation”).

And, still you reply with – let me know how I can help you? I find this disingenuous. Your organization exhausts me. It is smoke and mirrors and a bunch (in my experience) of getting the run around. I asked YOU how you could help me. I told you what my needs at this time are . . . and I got the above reply. Do I expect Komen to jump in and pay all of my bills? No, but, if you truly care, then why is there no interest on your part to at least look into the broken phone number, the fact that there is no form on your website or email for cancer patients to contact you for financial assistance – and yet your organization brags about providing financial assistance to breast cancer patients in need. Please understand this: your organization invited me to seek financial assistance through Komen’s financial assistance program. I got no response ever. I called over 100 times. My story is NOT unique. I have heard from many women who were treated the same way.

Instead, I feel you have just sent me a defensive reply about how you were not employed by Komen at the time I originally sought help. So what? You work for them now. I realize this may all be out of your job description – but, the very fact that this may be the case, shows how broken Komen has become.

But truly, this is my favorite quote from Julie’s email:

“Again, I’m very sorry for the response you got from our organization in 2009″

Response? Julie, I did NOT GET A RESPONSE IN 2009, or in 2010, or in 2011.

I told you before that I was not angry with you (in my previous email). But, I have to say that now, I am a little angry with you. I don’t like the spin, I don’t like the fact that I am hearing from someone from marketing and PR instead of someone who is in a position to address my experience.

I think you have simply drunk from the Komen KoolAid.

If you truly want to help me, truly want to make a difference in some breast cancer patient’s life, then work on fixing the problem. And, if you are not in a position to do so (I understand that your job is in marketing and PR and to search out the web for what is said about Komen – which right now must be keeping you mighty busy) then get this in front of a person who CAN fix the problem.

I will be sure to include the appropriate tags for this post so that you get an alert as soon as possible.

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All Quiet On The Western Front . . .

31 Jan

Haven’t had much to say lately. There have been a lot of reasons for that . . . being busy with work, being in pain (which I think is probably . . . and hopefully . . . because of an increase in work hours and just simply the fact that I am doing more and more).

Tomorrow I have a breast MRI . . . a bit odd, since I no longer have breasts. But, I do still have some breast tissue (after having reconstructive surgery) and since I have had pains in my chest my oncologist wants me to have the MRI. I have some other tests, that I am not so worried about. So tomorrow will be a medical day (used to have so many of those). I hope that tomorrow’s results will be good.

This is a picture from one of the last road trips I took before the cancer roller coaster began. It is time for a weekend get away . . . soon.

I will be going to the hospital where I had my first breast MRI almost three years ago now. It was the day that I found out that the cancer in my right breast had unfortunately spread to my lymph nodes and was invasive. It was a tough day. It was the kind of day that so many women (and men) have experienced and continue to experience.

My Aunt Ann died of breast cancer in 1994. And, to this day, there is still no cure and very little change in the survival rates. Some make it, some don’t. Some get it some don’t. Some get it a second and third time, some don’t. Not a lot has changed. And anyone who has read my blog, knows all about how I feel about Susan G. Komen’s “Race” (sic) “for the cure” (sic).

Still, Herceptin became available since my Aunt’s passing. I am lucky. I am still here because of the availability of that drug.

And when I think back to almost three years ago, going in for my first breast MRI (back when I had breasts, breasts that were apparently trying to kill me) I already knew that I had breast cancer. I already knew that I had “the bad kind”. I already knew that despite the fact that I felt no lump, and that my doctor’s felt no lump, the cancer consumed most of my right breast. How could that be?

I had dense breast tissue. And, I had a fast growing, aggressive form of breast cancer. On the initial mammogram that detected it, it was like a spider web like appearance, something that was ultimately called “multi-focal” breast cancer (meaning multiple locations and diffuse). From my understanding of it, that is part of why I did not feel anything and why my doctors did not feel anything abnormal.

That is something that still floors me . . . that I never felt a lump, that my doctor’s never felt a lump.

Women need to know whether they have what is called “dense breast tissue”. We need to know this because it a) increases a women’s risk of getting breast cancer and b) it makes detection harder . . . which can mean a later diagnosis.

I also want women to know that there are other signs of breast cancer than simply feeling a lump. I had breast cancer for some time before it was detected. We know this because, looking back, there were symptoms.

What I did feel was exhaustion. I was tired. My body was, after all waging a war, fighting. I also had night sweats. And when I say night sweats, I mean waking up completely soaked, drenched kind of night sweats.

I brought these concerns to my primary care physician and he told me that I was probably going into early menopause. I didn’t really trust this, in my gut, I thought it had to be something else. Still, not in my wildest dreams did I think it was breast cancer. But, about six months later, in a mammogram, I found out the real reason why I was so tired and having night sweats.

I say this here because I want everyone to know what my primary care physician did not know: that night sweats and exhaustion can be signs of breast cancer. My doctor dismissed these symptoms as being attributable to “hormonal changes”. I had Estrogen and Progesterone responsive breast cancer. So there definitely was something hormonal going on. But, my doctor never looked into any other possibility. My oncologist tells me that these were very common signs of estrogen responsive breast cancer.

We trust our doctors, or at least we want to. I knew in my gut that my doctor’s explanation of my night sweats and being tired was wrong. In fact, he told me to take supplements that would have actually increased the estrogen in my body (thinking that my symptoms were from a drop in estrogen). I would imagine a simple blood test could detect hormone levels . . . at least I would think. But, none of that was done. I didn’t take those supplements (fortunately – because increasing estrogen levels would only have fed the cancer I already had at that time). But, I also did not trust my gut enough to seek out another doctor. And I didn’t know I had dense breast tissue, and I didn’t know that night sweats could be a sign of breast cancer. And, unfortunately, my doctor did not know either. (By the way, I have a new primary care physician).

I have spoken to so many women lately who have either put off having a mammogram (have never had one yet and they are years past 40) or that they just haven’t had one in a few years. And, in further talking with these women, not a single one knew whether they had dense breast tissue.

There is legislation being contemplated to make it a requirement that patients are informed as to whether they have dense breast tissue. This would go a long way to better detection, earlier detection and hopefully prevention (if a person knew that they had dense breast tissue, then perhaps extra precautions could be taken to help prevent breast cancer. And, it would be a basis for patients getting better imaging – a breast MRI, for example, rather than relying on a mammogram that may not detect cancer in a patient with dense breast tissue until it has spread farther, become bigger, become more visible).

So, get a mammogram and when you do, ask the radiologist whether you have dense breast tissue or not. And be aware of your body, trust your instincts and if you think your doctor’s explanation of something is not right, then go see another doctor.

Well, it is now already tomorrow (this post has taken me into the next day). So I am hours from spending a chunk of my day back where all of this started. Hopefully all news will be good.

I appreciate your prayers and/or positive thoughts coming my way.

Love and peace,

Lisa

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I am pinkified . . .

29 Oct

I just realized that all of this pink has caused me to be emotionally nauseated. Not actually physically needing to throw up . . . but, just sick somehow . . . like I wanted to throw up in my head . . . (now you’re probably thinking I am really looney). I have decided that I kind of despise October. October used to be candy corn and orange and black and pumpkins and bags of individually wrapped candies . . . it used to simply be Autumn.

Now, it is just pink.

It has taken me a while to realize what has been making me feel so down these past few weeks. The sea of pink. The “would you like to donate to breast cancer research” every time I am at the check out stand of the grocery store. The displays of pinkified products practically blocking the entrance to my local grocery store. (By the way, this is all junk food mind you . . . not a single food item with pink on it that doesn’t contain something nasty for you in it – but, that deserves its own blog post).

This putrid, every-where-pinkification just doesn’t work for me at all. I get it, I know it is important that we all are aware of breast cancer. But, trust me . . . I AM aware of it and there is no doubt that everyone I know is also painfully aware of it too.

I have had my own awareness, thank you. My family and friends have all had this awareness too. I have not written in a little while. Mostly because I had nothing to say, well . . . nothing I wanted to share. I have been angry, I have been sad, I have cried a lot in the past couple of weeks . . . something I thought I was done doing. Apparently not.

Today I suddenly realized what I think is at the root of my recent emotional rollercoaster . . . it is all of this awful pink. It is just everywhere . . . I cannot escape. I am forced to think about it . . . about breast cancer . . . constantly.

I shop almost everyday . . . I do this because I try to eat fresh food and so most days I am running up to the grocery store (it is just a few blocks from my home). I think the grocery store is the worst place to go during October. An online friend, and fellow HER2+ breast cancer patient, has been posting photos of pink products on her facebook page and has encouraged others to do so too (you can see her blog here: http://www.chemobabe.com).

It runs the gamut from breast-cancer-awareness duraflame logs and household cleaning products to pinkified hamburger helper. Duraflame logs are not healthy to burn in your home . . . really. And, don’t even get me started with the chemicals in a box of hamburger helper.

Thanks, but, this isn't the kind of help I need

At first these pinkified products were funny, entertaining. It became a game to find the most bizarre pinkification. I even started taking pictures of pink products when I was at the grocery store. But, that was then . . .

Sometimes all of this pink just feels like salt on my wounds

Now? Well, all of this “awareness” has given me a month long head and stomach ache. I don’t want to live and breathe breast cancer. I am still recovering from my most recent surgery. I am still battling this disease, and the reality of an uncertain future, in my head. I am still facing frequent doctor appointments, tests, blood work . . . I am booked with medical stuff well into December already. And, there seems to be no end in sight. But, it is what it is. I deal with it and I hope and believe that one day I will go for months without doctor visits, needles, pokes, prods and scans . . . I dream of having years at a time free from all of these constant physical reminders of what I have been through.

And I know that I will never really be truly free of it . . . not unless and until I forget what I used to look and feel like – that scar free, pre-cancer self . . . not unless or until I regain enough of the old Lisa that I don’t miss her anymore. You see, I simply do not need all of this pink. I AM aware.

Fortunately, Pinktober is almost over. I look forward to saying goodbye to this pernicious pinkification . . . at least for another year.

Love and peace,

Lisa

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Thursday . . .

21 Oct
Pastinaca

Parsnips - these are going into my stew 🙂

Well, I had two straight days without a headache. But, now it is back. Dang. It just wears me out. I am really getting tired of this whole thing. This roller coaster ride started 20 months ago. For the past 20 months, I have been in some kind of physical pain every day, it is just a matter of degree. I don’t like to focus on it. It is somehow harder now as I realize that there just simply is not some bright line date where it is “over”. I am still recovering from my last surgery, so I know I should not presume that this is how it is going to be . . . eventually I will be healed from the surgery and that will certainly account for some improvement. But, I am so sore all of the time, my bones ache and I am told that is likely from the chemotherapy. And it may not improve. So annoying. I am, was anyway, a very active person. Right now, just doing the simplest things wear me out. I went to the grocery store to get ingredients for a vegetable stew that I want to make. I found a slow cooker recipe for a root vegetable tagine – it looks very good. Anyway, by the time I got home from the grocery store, I was too tired and in too much pain to do anything.

I am sure my energy level and pain level (God, I hope so) will improve. It just has to as this is really not such a great way to live. I hate this so much, hate writing it, hate feeling it. I have not had a normal nights sleep since my first surgery back in August of 2009. I am hoping that with physical therapy (which I am supposed to be able to start in the next few weeks) that this will improve. Right now I can only sleep on my back. The trouble with that is that my arms do not lay flat, or, I guess it is my shoulders actually (in particular, my right shoulder) that does not lay flat when I am on my back. So, it is painful to lie down, but, obviously necessary. I try to prop my shoulders and arms up with a pillow so that laying on my back doesn’t force my shoulders back in a painful way. But, inevitably I move in the night and so I am never asleep for long.

In the scheme of things, this is nothing. Nothing compared to the months of chemo and radiation. But, somehow, this stuff is harder for me to take now . . . maybe it is because I expected things to be over with by now, maybe I expected to be better, feel better and to truly be able to get back to my life. I am having doubts about working full days. I want to, I need to . . . but, things like cleaning out my refrigerator are too physically taxing . . . clearing off my desk (which I so desperately need to do) is too physically demanding. I have to make choices throughout the day . . . do I do this or do I do that? Because I know that either one will leave me in need of having to go back to bed for a while. I am SO sick of my bed.

Well, I am sure things will get better. I am just getting a bit fed up and I am feeling pretty impatient I guess. Maybe that is a good thing. I don’t know.

Wish me luck 🙂

Oh, and here is the recipe for the Root Vegetable Tagine . . . I am going to add organic beets to this recipe . . . I will let you know how it turns out 🙂

Slow Cooker Root Vegetable Tagine

Ingredients

  • 1 pound parsnips, peeled and diced
  • 1 pound turnips, peeled and diced
  • 2 medium onions, chopped
  • 1 pound carrots, peeled and diced
  • 6 dried apricots, chopped
  • 4 pitted prunes, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
  • 1 tablespoon dried parsley
  • 1 tablespoon dried cilantro
  • 1 (14 ounce) can vegetable broth

Directions

  1. In a slow cooker, toss together the parsnips, turnips, onions, carrots, apricots, and prunes. Season with turmeric, cumin, ginger, cinnamon, cayenne pepper, parsley, and cilantro. Pour in the vegetable broth.
  2. Cover, and cook 9 hours on Low.

Love and peace,

Lisa

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In need of sleep . . .

12 Oct

Today was rough. It was preceded by a rough night . . . I couldn’t sleep and for the first time in some time I thought about, worried about a cancer recurrence. I have had a headache for some time now and that is one of the things that my oncologist wants me to take note of . . . any new headaches, any prolonged headaches etc.

I don’t know why I am having headaches. It could be from stress, diet, lack of sleep . . . who knows. But, it is a bit worrisome. And, when I am alone and can’t sleep the worry creeps in and then sleep is pretty much impossible.

Last night was one of those nights. I didn’t feel well when this morning at all. And, I compounded that feeling by following through on my plan to go to a support group today. That was not a good experience for me today.

Today’s group was somehow very depressing to me. Maybe it was the woman who has had a recurrence of the same kind of cancer that I had. Maybe it was hearing the suggestion that the worst kind of breast cancer to get is HER2 positive breast cancer. I am sure that was not the intended point of the discussion. But, it is what I came away with.

One discussion today was about the different types of breast cancer – triple negative, HER2 positive, “regular” breast cancer . . . etc. I am not sure exactly what is meant by the “regular” kind of breast cancer. But, it is the kind that most women who get breast cancer get . . . so, non-aggressive.

About 70% of breast cancer is not aggressive. As I sat in group today I kept thinking are the survival rates simply reflective of the types of breast cancer? What I mean is that most women survive breast cancer . . . but, most women have a non-aggressive form of breast cancer. So, where does that leave me?

No once can say. My oncologist has told me I am cured. But, she has also said that there is a fifty-fifty chance of recurrence. So then what?

And I know I shouldn’t be thinking that way. But, as I have these aches and pains that I can not adequately explain away, I think about it. I worry about it.

The worry and attitude are always worst when I don’t feel well. I am tired. Very tired of so much pain. I had a great weekend. I went out, spent time with friends and got really tired doing all of that. But, I felt pretty good. Today, however, just wasn’t a good day.

Tomorrow I will see my surgeon. Hopefully it will go well. I am having some new pains that I will bring to his attention. I hope that he will take out the one remaining drain. That would be great and a real relief.

Well, I am super sleepy, hoping to get some sleep soon.

Love and peace,

Lisa

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Re-post of a favorite post . . .

19 Sep

One of the benefits of blogging I did not expect was that it would put distance between me and the cancer. It is still in the room . . . reconstructive surgeries and scans ahead of me . . . make it hard to not think about it.  But, looking back, reading old posts, for me really reminds me of how far I have come and how so many have helped me to where I am today. So, thank you all, my family and my friends . . . for rallying behind me, around me, praying for me, cooking for me, driving me to and from and just being there, here, for me.

Here is the re-post of an old post (originally from February 14, 2010 – one year after my ride began):

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.

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Pinktober – Breast Cancer Awareness Month . . .

18 Sep
In Finland the October the 3th is the day of s...

Maybe I should wear this to the Race for the Cure 😉

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Pink

It is nearly Pinktober. October is breast cancer awareness month. I will be recuperating from surgery during the month of October, so I will have less exposure to pink 🙂 You start to resent the color pink after a while . . . especially since it is virtually everywhere. Pink. How did that become the color of breast cancer? Pink flesh? Pink disease? Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink.

Well, I did wear a pink t-shirt to many chemo and Herceptin rounds. But, I wore that shirt because it had, in very bold, large, black letters the word “FIERCE”. I loved that shirt. It is faded now, having been through the wash many times and worn many times . . . to chemo, to the gym and sometimes to bed. It was as if wearing that word across my chest (and for a good part of the year . . . across no chest) could influence the battle beneath. Fierce. I could make myself fierce even if I did not feel that way, I could make my cells within my body wage the war I needed waged and conquer the cancer.

So, I wore that shirt in spite of it being pink. I will be at the race for the cure next Sunday. (I say “at” now because of recent complications that make it pretty difficult to get around – my right side is pretty messed up – I will explain infra).

There will be lots and lots of pink there. I am going with a group of girlfriends who are all going to be wearing pink. I kind of want to wear chartreuse green to the event. Seriously, from head to toe . . . chartreuse. Why not? I would get some funny stares. It is funny, women with breast cancer either love it or hate it (at least that is what I see from my view) . . . love or hate pink, that is.

So about my not being able to walk in the Race for the Cure . . . today I was told to be still for the rest of the weekend. I mentioned that I have been having some pain on my right side. I thought that maybe it was lymphedema. But, now after speaking with a nurse who specializes in lymphedema and then a surgeon up at Cedars Sinai, it seems clear that the pain is probably not from lymphedema. So, that is a good thing as I really want to get through this cancer nonsense without having to contend with lymphedema . . . at least if it is possible for me to do so.

It appears instead that the pain I am experiencing is likely due to my pectoral muscle tearing. The expander is placed underneath the pectoral muscle (ultimately an implant will replace the expander . . . in addition, I will have muscle and skin brought to the area as well). The surgeon explained to me how a tear can happen and that it would cause me to have pain using my arm since the pectoral muscle is connected to the shoulder . . . any movement of my arm then causes that torn area to hurt. Anyway, she wants to see me on Monday. My surgeon is out of town (I am scheduled to see him for my pre-op appointment on Thursday of next week). However, his associate does not want me to wait that long. She gave me instructions to be still for the rest of the weekend to see if I can get through the next couple of days until I can get into see her on Monday. She put me on an antibiotic as a precaution (said there is too much at stake to take any chances right now). I appreciate her attitude and concern. It is a little disturbing. I had no idea what was going on . . . I should have called her a few days ago, but, I just thought it would get better and instead, it got worse.

She wants me to call her if the pain increases over the weekend and if it does she will have me come into see her . . . presumably to take out more fluid from the expander so as to alleviate the pressure there. But, I am not sure really. And, there is also the possibility that they will see me on Monday and decide surgery needs to happen earlier. God, I hope not. But, that is not really something I am going to worry about. I just really, really want Dr. Sherman to do the surgery. So I need to hang in there until he returns. So, no moving around this weekend at all. Of course my plans of doing laundry this weekend are completely out of the question. Oh well.

Keep me in your prayers, I greatly appreciate it. I think things will be fine. I am glad to know that this is not likely a lymphedema issue. Although, hopefully the muscle tear is not something that will be a problem. I think it will be fine. Mostly, I think she is worried about preventing an infection. I am very glad that she is so pro-active and concerned. And, she took a lot of time with me on the phone. She asked a lot of questions and then seemed to be able to discern what was going on, explaining it in a lot of detail. I liked that very much. It is such a relief to have a great surgical team. I am so happy about the switch to Cedars Sinai.

Love and peace,

Lisa

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