I don't have details other than money goes to the American Cancer Society to fund research.
But YOU guys can find out all about it while I'm maybe even before I go into surgery.
What ? I'm still out in the dark?
No matter - you light up my life with your generosity and laughter and keeping me company through what can be very scary rattling around inside my thoughts.
I am so amazed and appreciative.
Already today:
Still happening:
Nobody in two counties has the XL, cotton & lycra zip-front sports bra I'm supposed to stroll into surgery with TOMORROW, so husband scouring stores between doing end-of-year performance reviews w/ his staff. What, are people buying these bras as holiday gifts?
Out of touch till late today - but will be thinking of you all,. . . .
Ann Miller, known to most as twitter's @AnnOhio has a telling tale of her own lump - not a pea - in Twittering on the Edge: Frozen Pea Friday.
"I was in the shower and felt the lump. It was on the left side, and it was pretty good sized. So, did I call the doctor the next morning? Nope, I buried my head in the sand and pretended it would go away if I just ignored it. Of course it didn't and I continued to feel it every day and to ignore it every day. I had an appointment due at the gynecologist in two months, it would wait until then I decided. I told no one cause it wasn't really there, you know?"
Anne's someone I love a LOT and if she had continued to be in denial and a cancer took off and spread, her story might not have had the ending it did and MY life would have been so much less rich for having her in it.
Even if you're not into peas - which are a little cheesy and may turn some of you off that we're having a good time with a serious topic - at least take Anne's words seriously.
"Seeing what Susan is going through is increasing awareness of the need for self-examination, mammograms and not ignoring the signs from one's body."
Please be part of that effort even if the peas are not your thing. I want all of you to get old with me and the best way to assure that is prevention, early detection, and not keeping quiet if something IS a little out of the ordinary with your body.
We're here to support you. And pass peas if needed.
When I discovered a very thick area in my breast I called the doctor. The next day I was in her office. A half hour after that I was in the diagnostic radiologist's.
A full afternoon and multiple stab wounds later we had a variety of samples of malignant tentacles of tissue that were on their way to the lab.
I was in a little pain - it would increase as the local anesthetic wore off - but left his office with a soft cold pack in my bra.
To keep bleeding down & relieve pain I'd need to keep things cool. Traditional ice packs are hard and heavy. As much as I try to be a good sport I'm not into having a brick sitting on my chest.
Enter a bag of frozen peas.
I tucked it in my bra, took a picture, and was ready to tell the story later that night. That bag of peas added a touch of lightness to what could have been a sad and serious tale.
- A bag of peas was something everybody could relate to.
- Some people love them, some hate them, some use them for their own injuries.
- A bag of frozen peas was a vehicle for conversation and let people tease me instead of having to cry.
- It let people share instead of bemoaning.
I napped a lot during the first few days after the biopsy. The news was sudden and stunning after all and my body was being assaulted.
Mmmm peas for lunch?
When I fell asleep with peas in my cleavage I'd wake to the smell of freshly cooked peas. That made the story funnier, and more human. Of course I shared it because what is life but a series of stories.
After enough cooked peas I moved on to baggies with ice cubes or larger gel-packs which truth be told still are too big and too heavy to be comfy but help with pain.
The peas however live on in the form of stories from others about their use of pea-packs and the line-up of twitter avatars sporting peas in support of my struggle.
This makes them a comfort in more than one way.
And even now that they have their own grown up page at frozen pea friday they're still a simple and easy to understand symbol of caring to me.
Loic Lemeur, charming Frenchman who started the innovative video-conversation tool Seesmic sent me a link tonight, telling me to look at his blog.
Not content with added frozen Peas to his avatar on twitter the background on this edition of his video blog is now chock full of petit-pois.
I can't wait for Friday to see what the Pea Fund think-tank and tag team has planned for us as they kick start some fund raising while I take a little nap in the O.R. to start the process of kicking my own cancer.
But I'm just sayin' . . .if Loic starts speaking French to the women of the internet we may need those frozen peas to keep the temperatures down.
In the middle of the night east coast time I wasn’t able to sleep so was blogging. A random tweet from Robert Scoble the tech geek blogger flew by and it was about - could it be - peas?
That was dear of him and there is a lot of kindness surrounding me. I fell asleep feeling that warmth. But I didn't get the real shock until today when I woke up to find my name in Scoble's rather famous blog.
He started with a story about the outpouring of support in twitterdom as people have started donnng pea-bedecked avatars in what can only be experienced not really described. Then he melded the idea into a discussion about improving the world.
“Peas?”
"Yeah, peas.
"You gotta understand that peas made Susan Reynolds world a little better (she has breast cancer, is going into surgery on Friday) and people on Twitter are changing their icons to have peas in solidarity with her. She explains the role peas played in her comfort. Susan is someone I’ve followed for years and she has a blog where she’s talking about her experiences with breast cancer."
.
How did we get from a tweet of support from Cathleen the pea Rittereiser, to Connie Reece deciding we needed to put the FUN in fundraising, to Robert Scoble advice on improving the world through peas?
I don't know - I was probably having dye injected into my boob or sitting around in a paper gown while the plot thickened. I'm just glad to have people like this along for the ride no matter how it happened.
But why did it take getting cancer for me to feel closer to humanity? I don't have the answers. But I'm sure seeing the good side of the people who touch my life today.
Now that's a gift.
So the flap surgery I was so sure was right for me yesterday - um - maybe not so much after meeting with surgeon #2 on the tag team that will be doing my surgery this Friday.
These guys have me on the fast track, have booked an OR at Sibley Hospital in Washington DC Friday December 21st. I am pleased to have it underway & will be even more happy to come home Sunday the 23rd if all goes well.
And yes I like the reconstructive guy and find him qualified, thorough and patient about decisions. Oh - and he thinks that they are patient decisions not his decisions.
Enter Doctor Raymond Chang, George Washington University Medical faculty and reconstructive educator of not just students but patients. Another personable surgeon. I hit the jackpot.
After much discussion, and having come in the door totally against what I've decided to do, I'm skipping the flap procedures.
Because I'm not 30 - or even 40 - healing from the flap surgery would be more difficult. There is a chance that the skin would die and that the donor site would not heal well as it would in a younger patient. It's not a pretty picture.
I'll have enough skin left from the surgery to easily create the smaller breast size I had for half my life and which I'd prefer now if truth be told.
It will take two surgeries to achieve what will start immediately after the cancerous breast tissue is removed and will be completed gradually over a couple of months and then with a second surgery next spring. Best of all, I can start chemotherapy if I need to while this is in process.
We won't know if there's a need for chemotherapy until we have biopsy results from lymph nodes removed during surgery. So stay tuned on that.
So we're making a mound. Yup you heard me - a mound. We're stretching muscle, and if you want to know the details feel free to read all about it at and other reconstive surgeries at the American Cancer Society' or see what the American Society for Plastic Surgeons has to say on the same topic.
Back on the home front:
Saturday & next week
From the look of the twitter folks I'll be having a lot of support as I go through this. Even if they are not all here with me they live in my computer and in my heart.
The diagnosis was straightforward. My new friend the radiologist asked: "Can I tell you?"
But I already knew. Somehow - I knew before that moment.
The path of what to do was so clear. I had to go through the motions; interact with the doctors; ask about the tests; be calm. Go to the next step.
That was then. A week and a world away. All day I've been thinking about it - but putting off writing about it.
"Breast cancer, the second-leading cause of cancer deaths in American women, is the disease women fear most. Experts predict 178,000 women will develop breast cancer in the United States in 2007" Breast cancer - MayoClinic.com
The fear surrounds the whole process, especially at this point.
Because this appointment I have tomorrow is different. This time I have to be knowledgeable. I have to know
reconstruction varies. I have to know that there are consequences I'll live with. I need to be sure I have the right person; be sure I understand the plan; take my time; know my options.
Technically the options arent so hard to understand and it seems rather straightforward that the so called "flap" surgeries suit me better than stretching skin and adding an implant I don't want in my body.
But they are complex processes I'm not sure are widely practiced and I'm not sure the reconstructive surgeon I'm meeting with is qualified to do either.
I just don't know enough. I'll soon find out.
Considering I'm not a doctor it may be odd that I do seem to think I know what's a good option for me.
But will I think I'm so smart in six months or six years?
If I'm very confident in this potential part of the surgical team and very reassured tomorrow I'll schedule surgery. If not, I'll wait. I'm on a quest to be sure I'm doing what's best for me - or at least make as good a decision as I can at this moment
It's a good thing I've got ambien. Going to sleep naturally is not an option tonight.
One of the thing that keeps me going with a positive attitude - most of the time - is the sweet, funny, offbeat and downright weird stuff people do to keep me entertained, encouraged, informed, and - um - stunned.
Get ready - this is just one of the ways the geekier of my friends are showing their support.
I loved it.
""Bad" genes of the inherited variety are thought to account for fewer than 10 percent of breast cancers, and only 30 percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer have any known risk factor (such as delaying childbearing or the late onset of menopause) at all. Bad lifestyle choices like a fatty diet have, after brief popularity with the medical profession, been largely ruled out."
Invasive, sometimes called Infiltrating, is a scary word. In most cases this form of breast cancer has been present for 8–10 years when detected by a mammogram or physical exam.
In my case there was clearly an area that felt thickened or dense on December 6, 2007. A mammogram the next afternoon was not able to detect it but it clearly appeared on ultrasound and was confirmed by multiple biopsies the same day.
During those 8 to 10 years the cancer took to become apparent to me, there has been plenty of opportunity for those invasive cells to get out of the breast and spread to the rest of the body.
It is after all, by definition, an invasive form of cancer.
Each year about 190 thousand women are diagnosed with invasive breast cancer in the US and about 40 thousand women will die of the disease. The larger the mass is when discovered the more risk. Mine had tentacled almost 5cm into the surrounding tissue and two other areas in the breast were discovered as well.
My chances of living another 10 years without cancer in another area are about 40%. The likelihood of one of my other underlying health conditions doing the job before that is 20%. it took a few months to get used to that idea.
Now though my attitude is that at least I know what I'm facing. It's just not what I expected. Life changes in an instant.
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