RenovationGirl

Just Try To Wipe This Smile Off My Face (Final Episode of the Boob Saga)

Monday to Wednesday night had to be some of the longest days of my life.  I tried very hard to stay in a good place and focus on what the doctor said...it looked benign.  People who know these kind of things assured me that she wouldn't have said this if she wasn't very sure of this.  And I did really well. 

The doctor had told me that the results would come back rather quickly and I could hear as early as Wednesday.  Of course, I spent much of Wednesday sneaking away from the training session I was in to see if she had left a message.  On the drive home from the training session, it all kind of hit me.  How life-altering this message could be. The plans that would have to be made.  The decisions.  The management of it all.  It overwhelmed me.  After holding it all for two days, the floodgates had opened.

I had just enough time to drive from one part of the city to the other, hopping from one job to the next.  I spent most of that time losing it and controlling myself on a repeated cycle.  As I got closer to work, I managed to pull myself together enough.  But I did spend much of my time there continuing to check my messages.  Finally, after 5, the doctor had called. 

Let me just interject here that this imaging center has provided me with the utmost care and concern.  You always expect pediatric places or places that deal with potentially terminal conditions will give incredibly kind and compassionate care. Unfortunately, this isn't always the case as my aunt has discovered as she battles breast cancer.  But the place I went to was amazing from setting the appointment to talking to the doctor about the biopsy results. 

So I called the doctor, on her cell phone!, and she told me the news.

BENIGN.  Come back in a year.

And since that moment, I haven't stopped smiling. 

It Won't Be As Bad As You Think (Part II of the Boob Saga)

(For the first part of the Boob Saga, go here.)

After the doctor told me there was a mass in my breast and that it would need to be biopsied, I won't lie to you...she might as well have been the teacher from Charlie Brown..."mwa mwa mwa mwa biopsy mwa mwa mwa incision mwa mwa mwa mwa blood mwa mwa mwa mwa bruising."  While she informed me of all these very critical and necessary things, all I could think was, "don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry."  I focused on her lips moving and the sound coming from them.  I focused on the now blank ultrasound screen.  I focused on this very funky, cool, and expensive-looking necklace she was wearing, even thinking, "I should tell her how much I like that." 

The ultrasound technician came back and brought a nurse friend and they prepped me for the biopsy.  I was pretty wide-eyed, maintaining composure externally while still telling myself, "don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry."  The technician patted my arm and told me, "It won't be as bad as you think it will be."  On the inside, now I was laughing.  Yea, right, sweetheart!  A needle?  In my breast?  Taking samples? Did I mention this was in my breast???

Truth be told, she was right.  It was all relatively pain-free.  The worst part of the whole procedure (besides the whole facing your own mortality issue) was the Novocaine shot to numb you up.  And even that wasn't so bad.  For hours, I had no pain, and then what little discomfort I had was easily managedwith extra-strength acetaminophen.  Certain things would freak me out a bit...like when Remodel Man said to me, trying to sound calm but clearly freaking out, "Oh, there's a little blood on your shirt..."  They had warned me to not do anything with the upper body that required even a little bit of strain.  But, I had to make dinner and help Builder Boy and drive the car.  I had also forgotten that the doctor told me to put on a sports bra to help keep things nice and tight in there-oops.  So as soon as the bleeding started, I donned the sports bra and it did help. 

Emotionally, it's been odd.  I broke down just a bit when I called Remodel Man to tell him, but quickly recovered.  But then I had to call the retail place I work to call off and the manager on duty was not the least bit sympathetic.  "Well," she said, "If you don't want to be penalized, you'll have to provide a doctor's excuse." If I could have quit, I would have done so right then.  I understand that the level of professionalism in these type of companies, especially at this level, is very low, but seriously, did they really think I would lie about having a breast biopsy?  Especially with all I've been through.  I was dying to show up there on the way home, lift up my shirt and bra and show them the darn  incision.  (Remodel Man calmly suggested that this was not a good idea.  )  This whole situation upset me so much that when I called to tell my parents and my dad answered, it was all over.  I was a sniveling mess.  (But daddies can do that to their girls...I just heard his voice and broke down.) 

But I'm okay.  I'm freaked and tonight as I read to Builder Boy, his soft smooth skin under my hand, his face intent on the story we were reading (tonight's selection was a Splat the Cat book), my heart broke about what could happen.  Quickly, though, I pulled myself together.

What really helped calm me is this piece, sent to me by a friend.

I may visit this pretend place momentarily, but I don't want to go it alone. 

Irony at Chest Level

Going in for a mammogram is never an enjoyable experience.  It doesn't hurt, although it can be uncomfortable...but the worst of it for me is mental-here we are all, sitting around in the secondary waiting room in our lovely pink hospital gowns, trying to inconspicuously pull shut our flapping gown-all about to bare our breasts to a stranger who will pull and squeeze and push these appendages in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

Before my first one at the ripe old age of 34, my mother gave me some information that saved me from screaming at the technician, "My breasts are exploding!!!!"  She said, "Just when you think they can't squeeze them anymore...they do!" Seriously, it's crazy that they can do that to this body part and there's no damage.  Clearly, a man came up with this!

So off I went yesterday...I wasn't scared.  Having spent the night before praying and meditating and reading comic websites, I felt centered.  It's just a cyst, I told myself.  That's what the doctor thought at my exam...  I got a little freaked out while filling out the questionnaire when it asked "Date of your LMP (last menstrual period"-ummmm, D&C on 6/24. Does that count?  Then it asked, "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" Hmmmm...again, D&C...maybe had sex once since then, so yeah, I guess? When I took my papers up, the nurse was all, "If there is any chance you could be pregnant, they're not going to do this..." (you read that with a whiny voice, right?  if not, go back and read it again in that voice....) and she grilled me about it.  Finally, I grabbed the papers back and signed my name to the "for sure not pregnant" line.  Nurse Lady, I get it...I get that this is dangerous for a fetus.  But right now, after all these years of infertility, I'm more concerned about being alive for the kid I do have.  Thanks, though, for making this all the more difficult! Strangely, when I met with the technician in the exam room, she asked me about the pregnant issue and when I explained, she merely said, "I agree...better to make sure you're healthy" and put a shield on my abdomen. 

Mammograms are useless to me...as the doctor explained, the tissue in the breasts is so dense it shows up as all white on the image.  Masses also show up as white. So looking for something on a mammogram for me is like "finding a snowball in a snowy field."  So I will always need to have an ultrasound.  Which I did. 

Having spent many a morning with feet up in stirrups, watching the ultrasound screen for fetal movement or growing follicles or thickening uterine wall, I'm getting better at actually seeing things on the screen.  She did my first breast, the one that supposedly had issues, and deemed them just cysts.  PHEW!  We laughed in relief and she mentioned that if I wanted to have them aspirated, I could do it right there today.  "How nice," I told her, "to be able to do this all at one place in one visit!"

She moved onto the other breast, the one without issues.  The air in the exam room was comfortable...this was, after all, just protocol.  It would be silly to come in and just view the one with issues.  "Ever feel anything here?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  "Um, no." I waited.  She said nothing more.  And then I looked at the screen on the ultrasound machine.  I saw it, too.  A mass.  Not black on the screen like  a cyst filled with all its not-going-to-kill-you fluid.  Nope, it was grainy inside and grey.  And the air changed.  And all of a sudden that air-conditioned room didn't feel so cool anymore.  "Okay, wipe off and the doctor will be in to see you." 

It wasn't a long wait.  The doctor explained that the breast with the original issue was just a cyst.  A few of them, actually,  and big.  Unusual for a woman of my age, but nothing of concern.  She did not offer to aspirate it.  "However," she said, "Sometimes, when we go for a test, something shows up we weren't expecting."  If this were a movie, this is where all the music would stop. 

There is a mass in there, most likely benign.  They did the biopsy right then and there and we should have the results by week's end.  Part II of this saga tomorrow...my reaction and the rest of the day.  For now, though, this is enough.

*For those professor types who may read my blog, yes, I realize that this is not, in fact, irony, but it made for a good blog title.  Forgive me.  :) 

While Everyone's Asleep

Everyone is asleep in the house.  The cool, night air, a welcome relief from the glaringly hot day, laps into the house.  I sit, in the kitchen.  The place where I spend most of my days at home.  It is a mess and I should be cleaning.  But it can wait.

For now, I focus on the positive.  The fun summer times we are having as a family.  How our summer focus is on family and not the house.  Bike rides and trips to the zoo and a visit (twice) to a historic village in town and lots of days and nights at the pool. Play dates with friends and long conversations with kindred spirits who are too far away.  Breathing in the clear nights and allowing the sun to soak into the skin.  A birthday celebration and time with family and a trip to the sandy beach soon.  A mother who gives her everything and more for her family and a grandfather who loves spending time with his grandson at a coffeehouse under a shady tree.  Watching the Stars Wars movies, starting with 1 and working our way to "our" Star Wars movies.  Ice cream and homemade popsicles and eating dinner on the patio.  Veggies and  potato packs on the grill and fresh cherries we could eat by the poundful.  Reconnecting with close friends and making new ones. 

What I will not focus on is my mammogram tomorrow or my aunt's fatigue after her first round of chemo.  Builder Boy's breakdown earlier today or Remodel Man's stress.  My sister's loneliness or my mother's concern for her family.  Our financial stresses or the overwhelming work schedule this week.  A school year that has already started with drama and stress and a little bit of comedy.  Buying school supplies in mid-July.

No, for tonight, I will focus on the quiet of the night.  I will focus on the life we live now.  I will focus on the family I have been blessed with and the friends who support us.  Because while everyone's asleep, the mind can take me to the bad places, but there is time for those places...or not.  I'll focus on the not...

Five Hours That Postponed A Decision

I met with the RE today for my post D&C appointment.  We were supposed to go over the lab results of the D&C (they're still not done testing them) and to schedule the next cycle, if in fact we decided to do it.  Even this morning, as Remodel Man was leaving for work, I asked again what he thought we should do...he's 50/50 on it. 

But it didn't matter.  Because we couldn't make a decision. 

Wednesday morning I woke up, turned to say goodbye to Remodel Man, when a searing pain hit my chest, right under my left breast.  I've had this type of thing before so I wasn't too worried.  It feels like a stitch in your side, but it's under your chest in your ribs.  You cannot take a deep breath because of the pain, so instead you take shallow breaths which eventually makes you woozy because you're not getting needed oxygen.  This usually last a few seconds to a few minutes and I can usually change position or control my breathing enough to get rid of it.  But this time, nothing was working.  It went on for hours.  After two hours, I called the dr. She wanted to see me, but the nurse told me, "I don't want to alarm you, but if it gets worse in the next 30 minutes, I want you to go to the ER." 

Had I been at any of my jobs or if it was a weekend and Remodel Man was home, no problem.  But I was home alone with Builder Boy.  I couldn't help but think, "What if I drop dead...what will he do?  He will be so scared!  and alone! and without a mama!" And so as soon as he got up, we reviewed dialing 911 and I showed him how to use the house cordless phones.  (As a side note, as children, we merely picked up the phone and dialed, but today, there are steps you need to take in order to make a call...I kind of forgot this, so while Builder Boy knows to dial 911, I'm not sure he knew how to dial!!) He rolled his eyes and watched tv. 

I kept my cell phone in my pocket and thought I would probably be able to hit 9-1-1- on my cell while suffering from my heart attack and hopefully the GPS would track me to my house so they could send an ambulance.  (Friends, there's a whole lot of crazy going on with me...I go there, oh yes I do!) I set in a big comfy chair in our kitchen, trying to stay calm, trying to control my breathing, willing myself to feel better.  I stressed about the state of my kitchen, a sink full of dishes, counters littered with days of cooking and not cleaning up, the giant tub of cheese balls taking up ridiculous amounts of space, and worried what the paramedics would think and how Remodel Man would get this placed cleaned up after I dropped dead. 

I worried momentarily about driving myself to the appointment, but it seemed that things were settling.  And as I drove, I felt the pressure and pain lifting.  By the time I got to the dr's, I felt better.  This was over five hours later. 

They did an EKG and it was "perfect."  No sign of a heart attack and my heart sounded fine as well.  But it naturally was concerning and my PCP is very thorough and cautious.  So I'm going for a stress test.

My RE couldn't believe it when I told him.  I know it's anxiety.  The amount of stress I am under right now and have been for years is just not manageable-and yet I manage it.  Until now. But I can't move into a cycle until these test results come back.  I have to be in tiptop shape.

I then mentioned to the RE that I never went for that mammogram he wanted me to do last year.  He had found something last year, was sure it was nothing, and somehow life got in the way and I never went.  Then my aunt was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer (my other aunt died from it many years ago) and I was desperately regretting that I hadn't gone.  He immediately did a breast exam (well, he let me get undressed and put on the paper gown before he started...) and found a lump.  Probably a cyst. Or something benign.  He's 95% sure. 

Monday I go for the mammogram.  And I'm freaked.  But I'll save that crazy for another post.

For now, though, no decision on the next cycle.  Not until this 38 year old body starts acting like it's 38 and not 78!

Looking A Gift Horse In The Mouth

After our latest loss, when our doctor told us it was over, his also had a small proposition for us...he told us he wanted to do just one more cycle with us, a Lupron flare cycle, that he thought would work for us, but since he knew that money is an issue, he offered to help us out with his end of the finances.  We would just pay for our copay for visits and meds.  Usually, after a loss or a cycle that didn't work, we would jump at something like that. Desperation can make you impulsive! This time around, however, I didn't feel that way.  I wanted to run and never look back.  The thought of going through this again made me sick.

So Remodel Man and I decided to take a few weeks to decide.  On Friday, I have my follow-up appointment and I need to make a decision on this.  You'd think that I'd be able to decide, and I'm pretty sure I know which way I will, but bottom-line is this: I really don't want to do it.  My body is tired.  My son is seven.  I hate the shots (and this cycle there will be more).  I hate being late for work and having to leave early.  I hate the hope and the subsequent disappointment. 

But how can you look a gift horse like this in the mouth?

Hanging With The Birds

Do you ever have those days where in the moment you realize, "I will remember this day"? It's not a momentous occasion, but there is something about the day that makes it special and memorable.  A few days ago, I had one of those days. 

A friend of mine was in from Florida, visiting family and taking her adorable girls to see where mommy and daddy grew up.  We joined them at the National Aviary, along with another friend of ours, who lives in the same area I do and shamefully we never see one another.  These two women are women I worked for a few years as I started teaching.  I saw the good people they were then, but as I have grown as a teacher and a mother and a women, now I see the amazing women they truly are.

Getting together with friends after a few years can sometimes be awkward, especially when you add your children to the mix. Not so with this group.  While Builder Boy was a bit annoyed with all these girls (it was him and 4 girls...his comment?  "Mom, two girls is really enough!"), he ran around with them watching the penguins, scouring trees for colorful birds, and and waiting patiently for those bald eagles to come out of hiding (they never did). 

 (This is a Victoria Crowned something or other)

 (lawn ornaments...heehee)

 (stupid bird was posed very prettily...until I shot the picture)
 
And while the kids checked out all the birds, the adults talked...and talked...and talked.  We really could have done without the birds (especially because two of us have a slight fear of them), but it occupied the kids while we got to catch up.  Our conversations were easy, flowing from subject to subject, as if we still saw one another every day.  The kindness of these two friends is unparalleled, but it's not the suffocating kindness that comes from a foul-weathered friend (you know the type...they really just want to be in your business so they can gossip about you to others).  It's an honest kindness and affection. They are the type of people who will listen and affirm you.  They don't judge, even when they think differently.  We're able to joke together about the perils of parenting, even when the issues are serious and emotional. And they are both the kind of friend you can go to even if you haven't talked with them for awhile.

After the Aviary, we weren't quite ready to head home, so we headed to Pittsburgh's South Side and to a place called the Milk Shake Factory.  OH MY!!!  I have never had a milkshake this phenomenal before! Dark Chocolate Blueberry.  Can you imagine!  We sat in this modern ice cream parlor surrounded by amazing chocolate treats while I Love Lucy played on the flat-screen television.  We all ate our ice cream treats and talked some more. 

We still weren't ready to leave one another, so we strolled down the main drag on the South Side to The Pretzel Shop.  These are truly the best pretzels in Pittsburgh, cooked in a giant wood-fired oven.  As a child, my dad would take us down there to watch them cook the pretzels.  This time, we grabbed some pretzels and feasted on them on the front stoop of the shop.  As I sat there, I marvelled at how relaxed I was.  The hum of the talking, the kids teasing one another, the unique foot traffic you see on Carson Street in Pittsburgh...at times, I realized I had totally zoned out of the conversation (sorry, ladies!!) because I felt so at peace.

It was a memorable day...a perfect summer day...a day of contentment spent with friends...and a few birds.

 
 

 

The Turning Point

At some point during a personal struggle, there is a turning point. That moment when you realize that you will be okay, that you will make it.  This time around, I didn't think I'd get there.  It's been a week and a half since the D&C...it feels like a lifetime.  When I wrote the last post, I was rock bottom.  In a place where I feared to go, but I never truly knew the depths of this place.   I commented to a friend today that in retrospect, it seems so silly, yet in the moment, the despair and darkness is terrifyingly overwhelming.  All was lost in my mind.  No happiness could be found.  That was the end for me.

Shortly after I wrote the post, I received word from some colleagues of a rather bad situation at our work.  It wasn't surprising since the professional atmosphere is practically non-existent and there was some foreshadowing of this situation. As soon as word got out about this, the phone calls commenced.  Just the mere talking to colleagues about work helped to start pulling me out of the pit I was in.  Concentrating on something else besides me and my struggles lifted some kind of weight I had been feeling.

This is not to say that it's easy to pull out of those times.  It's not.  It's not a quick fix.  You don't just jump back to your former self.  There is a void and a pain.  There is an ache.  Some days, you move along perfectly fine.  Other days, you feel paralyzed by your grief.  But not feeling the constant weight every second of the day is forward movement. 

I've learned during this last loss that for the most part, if someone hasn't gone through pregnancy loss, especially recurrent loss, they have no idea how difficult it is.  I've felt "blown off" by many people close to me and I truly think it's total ignorance.   They have no idea.  I thank God for my sister-in-law whose support and prayers have been an immeasurable help to me and for the friends who have reached out, especially those who are blessedly fertile and have no idea what any of this is like.  I have work friends who I know only through work (and therefore only in that barely know you except for work way) whose hearts broke with mine when this all happened.  It is because of these people that I am still kicking along.

So I work on moving forward.  I'm working on enjoying these beautiful summer days with Builder Boy, finding lots of fun activities to do, or just generally enjoying our home and yard.  I suppose if you must go through a loss, having it during sunny summer days help to lift your spirits.