When the nurse called and told me my doctor wanted to see me, I knew. They don’t make an appointment just to tell [...]]]> It was one year ago today that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It seems like WAY longer than a year ago. And it still feels a little surreal, even after the fact.

When the nurse called and told me my doctor wanted to see me, I knew. They don’t make an appointment just to tell you your biopsy was negative and you don’t have cancer. I knew.

XUP and I had been batting emails back and forth, and she phoned right after the nurse called. I burst into tears and XUP said all the right things. GC came over and took me to the doctor’s appointment. I think we all knew.

When my doctor delivered the news, I was very calm – numb, even – because I already knew.

A couple of hours later, when I was alone, I googled ‘infiltrating ductal carcinoma.’ All my numbness shattered when I read this:

“Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC) … starts developing in the milk ducts of your breast, but breaks out of the duct tubes, and invades, or infiltrates, surrounding tissues. … IDC is not a well-contained cancer. IDC has the potential to invade your lymph and blood systems, spreading cancer cells to other parts of your body. If IDC spreads beyond its original site, we say it has metastasized.”

I literally backed away from my computer with my knuckles in my mouth. I heard the sound of fear coming out of me. I was petrified.

I remember a lot of fear in those first couple of months, as I went through all the tests and waited to find out how bad it was and if it had spread.

But I also remember how much love and support and kindness I received from so many people, and how much it meant to me.

I remember sitting at my computer in the middle of the night, a year ago tonight, unable to sleep, reading the comments to this post. I felt the fear subside. I felt profoundly comforted.

It’s a hard thing to describe. It wasn’t that I necessarily believed I would survive. But I felt that even if I were to die, my life was well-lived and complete, because so many good people cared whether I lived or died.

It didn’t end the fear forever, but it was very comforting to feel that way in the middle of that first very dark night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Thank you.

2. Those [...]]]> 1. I saw my cancer surgeon today and she said I still appear to be cancer free, based on the mammogram and a feel. I have to go for an MRI next month to confirm, and I’m supposed to check in with both oncologists in the next six weeks, but things are looking good.

2. Those hummingbird babies are going to hatch today! When Phoebe leaves the nest to get a bite to eat, you can see there are holes in the eggs. You can’t tell from the images, but the nest (which is built in a rose bush) is about the size of a golf ball, and the eggs are the size of Tic- Tacs. If you click on the link, you can peek in their nest. (There are, at this moment, 4,640 people peeking in her nest.)

(Edited to add: The original hummingbird link either got overloaded or hijacked, so I’ve changed the link to one provided by the owners.)

It’s [...]]]> I don’t know what’s going on, but lately I’ve been completely addle-brained about doctors appointments. Everyone misses an appointment now and again, but I’ve missed four in a row – two with the breast cancer surgeon and two with the oncologist. These are just routine follow-up appointments to make sure the cancer hasn’t come back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m wondering if I’m subconsciously doing it on purpose (is that a contradiction in terms?). I was scheduled to see the surgeon on February 4, but I had to reschedule to March 8, because I was in that 8-day career planning thing. But then on March 8, I got the time wrong in my head, even though it was right on the calendar.

As for the oncologist, I can’t even remember why I missed it last time. But this time it was because I got on the 86 bus going in the wrong direction, and by the time I figured it out I was in Nepean and irredeemably late. I ended up at GC’s house, eating homemade soup and playing with the lovebirds, instead of at the cancer centre having my breasts thoroughly groped.

I haven’t been entirely remiss. I’ve done the pre-appointment mammograms and blood tests. I just can’t seem to show up for the actual appointments. I’m really starting to wonder about myself, especially since I successfully made it to approximately 118 appointments last year without missing a single one.

Here’s something interesting: a live web cam of a hummingbird nest. Phoebe the hummingbird is usually in it, keeping her eggs safe and warm. They’re scheduled to hatch between March 14th and 16th. I’m mesmorized.

Not me. I’ve been feeling unusually stressed out and a little depressed the past few weeks.

A bunch of things are weighing [...]]]> It’s been a funny sort of week. The weather is glorious and everybody else seems to be feeling the weight of winter being lifted from their shoulders. People look lighter and happier.

Not me. I’ve been feeling unusually stressed out and a little depressed the past few weeks.

A bunch of things are weighing me down. Even the fact that I’m feeling stressed out and depressed is stressing me out and depressing me. It’s not compatible with how I see myself. I’m the one who’s supposed to ride the waves, roll with the punches, get back on the horse. I’m supposed to be the eternal optimist. Nothing’s supposed to get me down.

So I went to see a counselor. She told me that sometimes people summon up reserves of strength to sail through a crisis (like cancer, for example), but once the crisis is over, the feelings catch up with them. And that’s when they start showing signs of stress or depression. Maybe that’s what’s going on with me.

Unemployment is kind of stressful too. Career-changing, job-hunting, financial worries – it all adds up.

All I know is I feel ten years older than I felt a year ago. And I physically feel something unpleasant in my body. It’s in my stomach and chest and face and shoulders. It builds up until I sigh deeply, which relieves it temporarily, and then it starts building up again.

I tried googling stress. But it freaked me out to read about what all that extra cortisol is doing to my body. Yikes.

What else is new?

• I heard from my ex-husband a couple of days ago, for the first time in 10 years. He sent me an email saying he’d found my blog and has been reading it. That gave me a moment’s pause. I mean, I write this stuff and I put it out there for anybody and everybody to read, but every now and then I’m startled to find out that a particular somebody is reading it. Like my ex-husband. I felt the same way when my mother started reading it, and when my son did, and when my boss asked me if I was Zoom.

• Last night we bought some Hoegaarden beers and drank a toast to Dave1949′s health. He just finished his cancer treatments and is looking forward to starting to feel better soon.

• GC and I went to the Ottawa Calligraphy Society’s open house the other night and some scribes made us these lovely complimentary name plates.

My blog was resurrected after a near death experience with an ill-fated WordPress upgrade. I got approached by a stranger and asked if I was Duncan’s owner. I wrote three real letters, with paper and ink and stamps and everything. I sold a piece of art to a mysterious dark-haired stranger. Everybody at work [...]]]> January:

My blog was resurrected after a near death experience with an ill-fated WordPress upgrade. I got approached by a stranger and asked if I was Duncan’s owner. I wrote three real letters, with paper and ink and stamps and everything. I sold a piece of art to a mysterious dark-haired stranger. Everybody at work got layoff notices, but we were told to keep it secret because they might be revoked.

February:

The bus strike continued through the coldest of the cold snaps. I hurt my back. GC and I started getting up before dawn each morning to follow the murder of crows.

March:

Barbie turned fifty. I lost the Tofu Challenge. We played board games in public. A lump was found in my breast. My layoff notice was not revoked and my 18-year job came to an end. I made a sock monkey.

April:

I played a lot of Farm Town on Facebook. I became a slightly disgruntled former employee. A single sneeze changed my life. I reflected upon my mercifully short marriage and other romantic bumblings. GC and I got a community garden plot.

May:

The lump in my breast was diagnosed as cancer. It changed everything. It took me awhile to wrap my head around it. People were really kind to me. Debbie and Bonnie and Grace came over and created a garden of hope for me. GC and I planted our vegetable garden. GC was my rock.

June:

I continued to wait to find out if I was going to die. There was good news and bad news. GC and I went to the Naked Bike Ride. I did my last volunteer shift at the Shepherds of Good Hope. My severe back pain got a diagnosis. The cancer surgery got postponed because of it. Then I had the surgery and was very, very happy.

July:

I got tired of waiting. I contemplated my own mortality. I revealed the meaning of life. GC and I celebrated our first anniversary. I started using a wheelchair. I got the cancer pathology report. We saw Astronaut Love Triangle.

August:

I had another operation to remove the rest of the cancer. We took up geocaching. We went to the Folk Festival. I was given a gift I love.

September:

I found out I wouldn’t need chemotherapy. I had spine surgery. I started walking again. My son grew up. My back incision got infected and I was told to lie down for six weeks.

October:

I had radiation treatments every day. We celebrated my birthday at a gorgeous cottage lent to us by kind friends. My great-niece, Chelsea, was born.

November:

I wrote a novel! GC and I adopted two lovebirds – Billie and Lester – from the Humane Society. I bought another new toaster.

December:

I bought a little art. I did a lot of contract work. I met and fell in love with my great niece. I had another MRI, to find out why I was still in pain. I whined. I won some luxury yarn! I got some wonderful Christmas gifts, including a Kindle. I knit and tinked. I dealt with some long overdue family stuff. The year flashed before my eyes. On New Year’s Eve I purchased Astronaut Love Triangle’s first piece of visual art, while celebrating beer’s 8,009th birthday.

Postscript:

Also, while I didn’t blog about it yet, for fear of jinxing it, I’m very happy to report that over the past two weeks I’ve noticed a dramatic improvement in my pain and my ability to walk. I went cross-country skiing yesterday and it felt good. I’ve stopped all the painkillers, and, for the past week, I’ve only been taking one time-release anti-inflammatory a day instead of two. So maybe I did get my wish, which was to wrap up the cancer and the spine problems in 2009!

Happy New Year everybody! Thank you for reading, for commenting, and for being part of my life throughout 2009. As GC said, “For such a bad year, it’s been a pretty good year.”

I have even higher hopes for 2010.

In 2009 I had two mammograms, three breast ultrasounds, a pelvic ultrasound, an abdominal ultrasound, a bone scan, two biopsies, six MRIs, one radiation set-up, 18 radiation treatments, three pre-ops, three operations, three post-ops, 10 [...]]]> Tomorrow I plan to do my full Year in Review post. But for now, here’s the Readers Digest Condensed Version:

In 2009 I had two mammograms, three breast ultrasounds, a pelvic ultrasound, an abdominal ultrasound, a bone scan, two biopsies, six MRIs, one radiation set-up, 18 radiation treatments, three pre-ops, three operations, three post-ops, 10 dressing changes at the hospital, 19 visits from the home care nurse, 10 physiotherapy appointments, a chest x-ray, 10 pain-management appointments, two appointments with the medical oncologist, three appointments with the radiation oncologist, four appointments with the breast surgeon and five appointments with the neurosurgeon.

Approximately 117 people saw my naked breasts, and about three-quarters of those people touched them.

I am really looking forward to 2010!

Barkley

I’ve got a new lump in my right breast. It’s very small, it might not be cancer, it might just be scar tissue, but it’s in a completely different area of my breast than the [...]]]> Yesterday afternoon I got a call from my breast cancer surgeon. That MRI I had last Friday night? It found something.

I’ve got a new lump in my right breast. It’s very small, it might not be cancer, it might just be scar tissue, but it’s in a completely different area of my breast than the cancer and surgery was. It’s where the MRI last Spring found an “area of suspicious enhancement.” I never did find out exactly what an area of suspicious enhancement was, exactly, but after another ultrasound last Spring I was told that it was probably a false positive on the part of the MRI. Now, six months later, there’s a lump there. The surgeon wants to wait and see. She’ll MRI it again in six months and see if it’s changed.

I feel like I just got off the cancer merry-go-round, and I don’t want to jump back on again just yet – especially if there’s nothing I can do about it. I had to get used to having cancer in the first place, and then I had to get used to not having cancer, and now I have to get used to not knowing if I have cancer. And doing nothing. Just waiting.

It’s not that I’m worried. I’m not. One of the benefits of having had cancer is that it stripped the word ‘cancer’ of its power to terrify me. I’m not scared of it anymore. Or maybe I’m just not scared of breast cancer. Or my breast cancer. I don’t know. But I’m not worried or scared.

It’s just that I’m weary. I moved through this past six months on the strength of positive thinking and tons of support from other people. I borrowed positive momentum from everybody I know, including all of you. But a week ago today, when I finished my last radiation treatment, I finally exhaled. I let it all go, all that momentum, because I thought I didn’t need it anymore…I’d made it to the finish line and now I could just let go. I never imagined I’d need to muster it all back up less than a week later. I’m trying, but so far I’m mostly just feeling kind of lackluster and drained.

In the good news department, my back incision has finally healed. The home care nurse pronounced it sealed yesterday, and for the first time since mid-September, I’m dressing-free. (By the way, in case you think I haven’t had a shower for two months, I have to set the record straight. Shortly after Home Care started coming in, they switched to waterproof dressings just so I could shower.)

In other news I’m going to try to get my flu shot today. It should be good for a blog post if nothing else.

And finally, my nanowrimo novel is up to 17,378 words. The last couple thousand words have been kind of smutty, which surprised me even more than the boyfriend who hanged himself in the closet on Page 1.