Category: recovery

Making it Work > recovery

Silicone Boob Man

Posted on August 28, 2019 by pioneerintrees

A couple of weeks ago I finally got to meet the renowned plastic surgeon Dr. D, at his office in the dirty dirty Schwa, broken wrists and all (he’s not operating right now, relax). First time I’ve ever visited a doctor and shopped at Chapters in the same location, but whatever. Silver linings are everywhere, I find!

Dr. D

I arrived to a small waiting room that was empty save for two older Italian ladies who were struggling to understand the information page they had been assigned to complete. I asked if there was anyone there – they indicated in broken English that the receptionist was out for a coffee. Huh? Within moments Dr. D himself emerged and handed me my own clipboard, then 5 minutes or so later he re-emerged and got me. Not typical waiting room protocol, but oh well!!

Armed with my notepad and pen, I followed him into a small office – typical 2 chairs in front of a desk, atypical large reclining type exam chair (like a dentist’s chair) in the corner. Weird. But ok. Maybe boob exams need to be upright to observe perkiness. (My mind works this way.)

He thanked me for coming, I asked him how his wrists were healing up – small talk kind of thing, and then he asked me lots of questions – when was my bilateral mastectomy, had I had any operations other than that, etc. He had never heard of a SCAD heart attack – I explained it – he indicated that I’d have to be cleared for any surgery by my cardiologist. Interesting fact #1.

Once he was done asking background questions he opened a drawer and pulled out two sample boobs. This is where I leaned forward in my chair.

The boobies

He started by showing me a sample of the expander boob (proper term is tissue expander) and explained that after an incision is made across the scar line, the expander is placed behind the pectoral muscle. Saline is injected once a week for 5 weeks (or until the desired size is reached). The expander has a round spot on the top that is made of a different material – the injection goes in there. But I didn’t ask about any more details. (Expander questions weren’t on my list lol.) If you are interested, you can look at what the Mayo Clinic has to say (a favorite resource of mine).

Then he chose a suitable implant, noting my previous bra size and commented “you have more droop to your skin” (um, ok … I know what you are getting at and I’m 54, ok?). He handed it to me. Of course I stuck it against my chest and thought to myself “There is no fucking way I’m going to wear a bra again!” which translated to me explaining in the nicest way possible that I don’t actually want breasts – I just want things smoothed out. Can’t you do that?

Pause. Dead air kind of pause.

The “this is want I want, what I really really want” discussion

I suppose it’s not common for a patient to come to you and say that they don’t actually want what you have to offer (boobs). I told him ya, I really just want to smooth it all out. Is that possible? So then he said he had to take a look at my chest. He left while I put a robe on (likely because “take your shirt off so I can have a look” sounds inappropriate – but really, … I mean he’s just going to pull back the robe and look anyway! Waste of time. But it did allow me a moment to capture this stunning robe in a mirror photo.)

So I sat in the dentist’s chair and waited. He came in and asked me to stand up (so why have the chair?). He then looked at my chest, allowing me the opportunity to point out exactly what I want smoothed out. Isn’t it OBVIOUS? OMG.

Here’s the first shocking info: when I grabbed onto the fatty remnants of boobie and said “Can’t you just get rid of this leftover breast tissue … I mean why is it even here?”, he told me that it’s not breast tissue. OK WHAT? Nope, it’s SKIN. (Well it’s skin that looks an awful lot like the bottom of my old boobs!!) Interesting fact #2. AND … if he removes it, it will be concave. Interesting fact #3.

I’m thinking that it would be like the divot that Dr E (initial surgeon) causally told me occurred because they likely took too much fat attached to the skin in that spot.

So then Dr. D gave me a bit of an anatomy lesson – showed me where my pecs start and explained that the entire breast was removed. I said “so the breast is in a capsule?” – he confirmed that more or less, yes. Interesting fact #4 BUT I can’t seem to verify this with Dr. Google which bugs me. Regardless, all this time I thought they just missed some of my boobs.

Dr. D went back to the implant drawer and grabbed another sample – a considerably flatter implant with a much greater diameter. He said that this implant would achieve the effect that I want. That is, if I want an implant.

But … do I want an implant?

No I really don’t. I don’t want to have a foreign body in me if I don’t HAVE to. “Lots of people have foreign bodies in them and are fine.” Dr. D had noted. True. Prosthetic hips and knees, pins and bolts to hold together plates that support broken bones, stents, pacemakers… But breasts are optional. Cosmetic. Other implants are not.

At the beginning of our meeting he said (with resignation in his voice) “I’m sure you’ve heard about the recall of textured tissue expanders and implants in the news.” Yes, I said, I had. (I can’t imagine that women getting cancer from a specific type of implants is particularly good for business.) He explained that implants are made of silicone. I listened. And I asked if there are other options.

Dr. D’s Wife

It turns out that Dr. D’s wife is also a surgeon who specializes in reconstruction using the DIEP Flap method. (Two breast people. Imagine what that means, just for a moment.) I’d seen this term referenced here and there but didn’t know a lot about it. Dr. D gave me a summary: fat is moved from one part of your body to recreate your breast. But before he’d explain further, he needed to know if I am a candidate – in other words, do I have enough fat to move. (I was literally scoffing out loud at this point – OMFG my belly might be an ASSET!! I’m the IDEAL candidate! Interesting fact #5.)

He asked me to unzip my pants so he could have a look at my belly (no robe required here, I noted). And then to drop the robe off my shoulders so he could see my back fat (the reason I won’t try on sports bras at LuLu Lemon anymore). He pronounced me a candidate DUH and we sat back down and he told me:

it is a day long surgery (really, a day? You mean 24 hours? 5 hours? Come on. I’m a details person. But I let it go.)
an incision is made across the belly (right across …)
tissue and a bit of your abdominal muscles are removed (my FAT and a blood supply source)
implant is done
the blood supply has to be carefully connected so that the tissue does not necrotize (um gross)
you have to stay in the H for approx 3 days
your abs take a while to heal

I asked if chunks are taken out of the belly – how does that work (imagining two hunks of fat taken out). “No, it’s an incision across … like a tummy tuck.” OK ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?? (Obviously Interesting fact #6, am I right?)

He then showed me what the two procedures look like when they are healed – implant versus DIEP Flap. Essentially implants are more perky and symmetrical and there is a massive abdominal scar with the DIEP Flap. There are plenty of stories of people who have had the DIEP flap surgery done – this one is a good one to look at!

Risks

I asked about infection and risks (thanks Jenny). He admitted that yes, implant surgery comes with a much higher risk of infection. “It’s a foreign body.” (Calmly stated, like I’m an idiot.) Note that he did NOT talk about any other risks. But I will tell you!

I follow #flatandfabulous on Instagram – a hashtag used by cancer survivors who have had a unilateral or bilateral mastectomy (one or two boobies removed). There are many interesting, brave, strong women who share their photos, stories, challenges, fears, etc on instagram. Recently I started following @hollykthrasher who had implants removed after they made her very sick. It’s called an EXPLANT. Interesting fact #7.

Coles notes: Holly went through implant surgery, had marvelous tattoos done and yet was never feeling well afterwards (heart palpitations, sinus issues, muscle & joint pain, chronic inflammation, insomnia). She finally determined, through intrepid research, that her implants were making her sick. She had them removed. Here they are (with the skin and part of her tattoos clinging on).

Note: these implants were in Holly for almost 3 years. You can see a layer of tissue around the implants. These “capsules” are formed by the body as a response to the foreign body being there – likely as a matter of protection. Explant surgery is painful and difficult, since the capsule must be removed as well.

Second Note: Within weeks after the explant surgery Holly said she felt like her old self. You can read more about her or buy a copy of her book (that chronicles her journey) on her blog.

Of course this is not to say that everyone will develop “Breast Implant Illness” (BII is a thing!). But some do.

What’s Next?

I’m going to see Dr. D’s wife, at Sunnybrook and find out more about the DIEP Flap surgery. (We’ll call her Dr. S.) I don’t know that I want the procedure done, but I don’t want to say no till I have all of the information. I have to admit, the tummy tuck / smooth chest combo pack is rather appealing.

I can feel a pros and cons list forming.

What’s Done is DONE!!

Posted on January 19, 2019 by pioneerintrees

These days I’m thinking about being DONE and what it means for me to be DONE (yell a bit when I put done in caps, ok?).

I’ll break it down a bit for you. In the next two weeks I have:

a meeting with my surgeon
my final Herceptin treatment
my portacath removed

Each of these appointments represent a different kind of DONE (nice job) and a bit WOOT WOOT (emphasis here too, please, maybe twist your wrists in a circle).

Surgeon Visit

First of all, surgeon man is very charming WOOT WOOT, so I like to visit him, and this will be my last visit with him. Nuff said about that. Secondly, I’m planning to talk to him about plastic surgery and the hypothetical referral that I was given by someone that I cannot recall right now (I think it was he the surgeon, but could have been my family doc). Bottom line is since I don’t know who said they’d refer me, or who they said they’d refer me to, I haven’t been able to follow up, and therefore I don’t know where I’m at with the referral. This is my life. Just ask my secretarial staff.

I digress. Why do I want a referral? Two reasons:

My chest wall looks like sand dunes. I don’t need breasts, but I’d prefer tabla rasa rather than a Dali-esque distorted chest wall. Who cares, you might ask? Well, I care. When I wear clothes that cling I don’t care that I’m “flat chested / non-breasted” (the name of my imaginary post-retirement company that sells bathing suits with no cups). But I don’t want clinging tops that show the deep tracts of my scars. That just looks wrong. Troughs across my chest are not a great look.
I want to have some tatoo work done on my chest WOOT WOOT and I’m thinking that the “memories of boob” bumps could impact the design options. (But what do I know about the effects of bumps on tatoos…)

So ya, I want to see a plastic surgeon. Can she (yes, she’s a she, I remember that much), … can she do something easy to flatten me out? What about the one deep sink hole? That thing is just going to look worse as the years pass, I can tell you that.

*Belly button #2 and portacath bump in upper right. Vogue material right here.*

You can see why the surgeon appointment is an important DONE for me – because it’s a done with a twist. Done with him, and on to surgeon #2. WOOT WOOT!

Final Treatment

This one is a clear DONE. My treatment regimen was 12 chemo treatments (in a row, so once/week for 12 weeks) and 18 Herceptin treatments (once every 3 weeks for a year). I had to miss one Herceptin treatment because of the heart attack, so that’s why I’m finishing 3 weeks later than prescribed. No biggie.

I’ve been counting down the treatments since the summer, each time taking the nurses the same number of treats as treatments that I have left. So it’s become a bit of a “thing” for me. I started with 13 dipped oreos, then 12 muffins …

I really love the nurses in the chemo suite – they’re all so welcoming, positive, gentle, nice… (even the one who I had some reservations about once – I’ve kept my eye on her). Because of the nurses, the chemo suite becomes a safe place to be when you’re in treatment. People are in various stages of feeling shitty, and the nurses treat their patients like family. It’s a nice, calm place to be, and I actually enjoy going. I know that sounds whack, but it’s true. Warm blankets, understanding and a couple of cookies go a long way.

I can’t say that I’ll actually miss going, but it does feel kind of like the end of summer camp. I have to say goodbye. To make it easier, and to thank them for getting me through it, my good friend Annie is coming with me and bringing a whole bunch of her gorgeous charms that she makes out of recycled glass. I’m going to have each nurse choose a charm for her necklace or bracelet. I’m excited to say thank you that way. I think they’ll love Annie’s work. WOOT WOOT!

Truly though, I won’t feel truly DONE till …

Portacath Removal

I get this sucker out one week after my last treatment. Take a look at this video – it gives me video envy! I have no idea how that woman got permission to video the removal of her portacath, but I’m seriously jealous!! It’s so cool to be able to see what’s being done to you.

Having the portacath has been a huge asset. It has been so easy for the nurses to deliver chemo and Herceptin. I have seen some of the other patients’ struggles with collapsed veins, and I’ve felt so grateful for my port. It was also super handy when I had morphine injected straight to my heart while I was passing that GD kidney stone! The relief was literally INSTANT (jazz hands here).

Many people will tell you that cancer is a “journey”. It’s true, it is. My journey is almost DONE. It’s about fucking time.

One Year Since Boob Removal

Posted on November 17, 2018November 17, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Today is the 1 year anniversary of my boobs being cut off. (I wonder if I’ll be reflecting on it every year … jesus I hope not.) I’m not making a boobie cake or anything (although the thought did cross my mind, I’ll admit it). But I have been thinking about it a lot. Mainly because it’s not at all what I thought it would be like.

How I felt THEN

Actually, I’m not sure that I even considered what I thought it would be like to be boobless. It all happened so fast – mammogram to surgery in 2 months. (I won’t go into the galloping again – you can read about it in an old blog post.)

I went in to the hospital on surgery day preoccupied with the hope that Dr. E would have the time to take off my second boobie, the cancer-free one. I was definitely in ‘get ‘er done’ mode. “I’ve got cancer in me? You’re not sure how far it’s gone? TAKE IT OFF. And, oh, … PLEEEEEASE take the other one off too.” I was so focused on him taking them both that I didn’t think too much about all of the other stuff. Like what it would be like to have no boobs. I didn’t actually care. I mean, I felt lucky that they caught the cancer and that it didn’t appear to have spread outside of the breast. It wasn’t like they were going to cut off my arm. It can always be worse!!

I did, however, have the presence of mind to take one last photo of the cancer boob. Lou gave me this white cami for post surgery survival and I decided to snap a before photo. (I’m not even going to talk about my hair at this point. Oh yes I miss it, I miss it. But whatever. Wah wah… )

How I feel NOW

It’s complicated.

On one hand, I don’t miss my boobs at all. Not even a bit. I’m done with the boobies – they served me well and they were quite frankly awesome at nursing. But after that was all done, they were a bit more trouble than they were worth. For example:

I had to endeavour to make them look perky… pushing ’em up. The bras, the bras. The straps! The underwires! Too tight, too loose. So glad to be done with those. Hallelujah!
They were a hindrance to activity.
- Diving into the lake – the bather flies up, boobies pop out / poke out. HA! Diving with no boobs is A DREAM!! No adjustments necessary! I’m basically Victor Davis reincarnated. (Loved that guy.)
- Pose of the child is called that for a reason. It’s not called ‘pose of the middle aged woman’. No. Having no boobs makes pose of the child POSSIBLE.
- Sleeping on your stomach does not require major adjustment. I just sleep. MAGNIFICENT!
- Drinking out of the tap does not necessitate my laying my boobs on the edge of the sink. It’s so damned easy!
They were sweaty!!! And now… no more boob sweat! No more drips between and under the boobs ladies! I can wear a tank top happily. Joyfully. Playfully. Watching me. (I’m always singing in my head. Can’t help it.)
Getting ready quickly was so tricky!! For example, in a woman’s world when someone suddenly comes to the door and the boobies are loose and low under a baggie sweatshirt, they are broadcasting to the unexpected at the door “ya I know it’s 2:30 pm and I was still in my jammies”. Now a T shirt is tossed on in 3 seconds. Dressing is so damned quick.
Most of the good Halloween costumes were unattainable. Now I’m just so much more believable!!

On the other hand, it’s strange having no boobs. I was just so used to them! I still do a double take when I walk by a mirror. I don’t care that I am flat chested. It’s just weird to see. Like when you get your hair chopped off and colour it. (Another blog post… honest to god it’s coming.)

I have no desire to have implants or wear prosthetics (again, the bras… why????), but there are two things that really do bug me:

My chest does FEEL FUNNY.

You know the feeling when you have to get a bit of fluff out of your belly button and you dive in there to grab it with a Q-tip or your finger? It’s a weird inside-your-body feeling. That’s what the scars on my chest feel like. They always feel like something. Vaguely tight. Kind of numb-ish. They feel.

My chest is not flat.

In fact, it’s like sand dunes. The scars are deeper than my chest. (I know there’s a surgical explanation. I will ask Dr. E and get back to you.) At any rate, the scars basically run through the middle of two dunes / divots / valleys. And that’s visible when I wear certain clothing.

Why do I care? Well… recognizing that this may sound totally lame to you, or quite vain, I’d like to have a nice smooth chest canvas for a couple of tatoos. So ya, I’ll see a plastic surgeon and find out what’s possible.

Soon we’ll talk about the hair.

Coming Up For Air

Posted on September 8, 2018September 9, 2018 by pioneerintrees

It’s coming up on a year since that first mammogram … holy hell, so much has happened since then. It’s a bit surreal to think back on it. I ran into an old BFF today while searching for yard duty vests at Talize (because that’s what all good Ps do) and we were chatting about it. Her son, now 20 and happily shopping too, was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma when he was 10. We talked about how, once you’re diagnosed, you are basically swept along from one appointment to the next. It’s just happening to you. And then it slows down and you come up for air.

Salty Air

I came up for air – after the surgery, chemo, heart attack and kidney insanity – and as soon as we could, we went on a family road trip to PEI. Because if I’ve learning anything from this shit show, you can’t keep saying “we’ll do that next year”.

cheesy photo — *Everyone must have one cheesy trip photo. Here’s ours.*

We had a grand time on the road, in Montreal, staying at whack places, traversing PEI.

riding by the sea — *One should always rent bikes. Especially when in flat provinces.*

And then, the best of all, visiting Deborah and Michael in Maine. It was so great. The sea, the air, the creepy things they made me touch, the seaweed, the rocks.

*You can’t be a wimp if you want to get to the kayaks at low tide.*

*The rocks on the Maine coast are so gorgeous. Hence the black and white artsy shot.*

Hot Air

And then that was done and we came back to Ontario where everyone was melting. I threw myself into doing practically nothing at the lake. It was pretty much the best summer for being by a lake. Hot and hot and hot.

reading on the dock — *No Netflix at the lake, only good books.*

I decided I’d better do SOMETHING productive, so I finished a project that I started two years ago (… because if I’ve learned anything …). When we first bought the place the little bunkie was stinky and dated. We ripped the laminate flooring off of the floor and counter and backsplash (they must have really loved it).

counter after stripping it — *Pretty rough.*

I tiled the counter and planned to cover up the black marks on the wall that was left from the glue.

tiling job — *My first tiling endeavour. (Not giving up my day job.)*

I bought some old tin ceiling tiles and scraped them till the loose paint was off then cut them to fit each space. With tin snips from 1902. That was fun. Then I sprayed them with varathane a couple of times. It’s amazing how you can think there’s no wind but there really is wind. Just sayin’.

cutting tin — *A great forearm workout. Can’t get that at cardiac rehab!*

Gluing the rectangles to the wall was a bit trickier than I’d anticipated. The pieces needed to be pushed against the wall till they set … about 12 hours. I had to be creative and brace them with various objects.

bracing the backsplash — *By the end I had garbage pails, chairs, sticks and utensils wedged against the backsplash. McGiveresque.*

In the end the wall looks pretty good.

backsplash done — *Kinda weird but I like it.*

Not long after I got the idea to use tin for backsplash, I decided that I could use the scraps to make up some fish to hang on the wall. You know, “tie in” the backsplash. I’d seen some done a few years back – don’t know where – and somehow they stayed in my memory. So I went for it.

Tip: don't use white glue.
I love the tin on this one. The eye is a rock from Maine.
This piece of tin had a nail hole in it so I added some scales.
I drew on some scrap plywood and Paul them out for me.

I really enjoyed making the fish – and I think that they turned out really well. So I hung them on the crapper at the top of the path so that EVERYONE has to look at them.

fish on the outhouse — *Swimming away from the stank.*

I figure that if I decide Dougie starts to ruin education and I have to quit, I’ll make fish and sell them on Etsy. I mean, everyone needs a few tin fish on their walls…

And Now?

New school and pretty freaking tired… but I’m loving it and am finding ways to cope. The kids are amazing – everyone has to choose a night to make dinner. (I have a feeling that my next blog entry might be on teenager dinners … ) We all commit to having dinner together at 6:00, including me (which is hard but I did it every night in this first week so that’s something). So far so good. Week two could be a bit hellish with a MUGA scan and two late nights at school (Council mtg and Open House). So we’ll see how I’m doing on Friday.

I likely won’t look like this.

PS Only 6 treatments left …

Twice Sanded

Posted on June 20, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Today as I continue to inch closer to cardiac rehab at an alarmingly slow pace, I got to participate in a stress test. As the technician was sanding my chest ELEVEN times for ELEVEN electrodes, I thought OK THIS IS DEF A BLOG POST. But before I get to the test, let me tell you about the destination. Cardiac Rehab. I am ALMOST in rehab. Almost.

Why Cardiac Rehab?

Once you’ve had some kind of heart attack (stemi, non-stemi, total, partial, added stent, surgery, some drugs, lots of drugs… so many choices…), and it’s been repaired, you still feel a bit, shall we say, scared shitless to do anything. When I was released from hospital after my SCAD heart attack two months ago I was told not to lift anything over 30 lb, not to do any vigorous exercise other than walking and yoga. Pay attention. “YOU KNOW THE SIGNS NOW”, said the nurse with a meaningful look. Ya, ok… sure thing. Yes I do. No showers. Call 911.

So now, when faced with various and sundry activities such dancing like no one’s watching at a wedding, or swimming in cold water at the lake, you tend to second guess yourself. Your brain has this conversation:

I’m so freaking hot – I’ll just jump in the lake and swim to the raft. (Dip the toe.) Holy Christ, the water is freaking cold! Hmm. What if it’s such a shock to the body that I have a heart attack?

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK!!

How do you know? I might.

IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN.

How do you know? It might.

YOU ARE A TOTAL WUS.

Seriously, we are in the middle of nowhere. If I have a heart attack it’s going to be a serious pain in the ass. Maybe I’ll just put my feet in.

FOR CHRIST’S SAKE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? WALK DOWN THE LADDER GRADUALLY.

I never do that! That’s def for a wus. I jump in or forget it.

OH. MY. GOD.

So ya, in my opinion, cardiac rehab is going to allow me, the boobless wonder with the questionable heart, to exercise AT THE HOSPITAL and build confidence. That’s basically why I signed up. Let me exercise with a stretcher in the same room. Thanks very much.

What is Cardiac Rehab??

Yes yes, it’s seems a bit obvious – rehabilitation for your heart. True. But what IS it? Apparently it’s not just working out in the same room as someone who can operate a defibrillator. Nope. Nope it’s not.

Side note: I was given the choice of doing Cardiac Rehab at the hospital or at the Wellness Centre. I mean really?? What heart attack survivor wants to exercise away from the hospital? I know I know. I have a long way to go.

*It’s a destination. Not just a process. Who knew?*

Before you can start Cardia Rehab, you get tested tested tested and fill in questionnaires and have interviews. And THEN you are expected to exercise in a variety of ways (kinda like I was going to do BEFORE the heart attack). AND you are expected to eat better (I figure that this healthy eating thing is just for the atherosclerosis people, you know, the ones with crap in their arteries- mine are just falling apart – totally different. I say this as I sip on some Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc. Hey, I was sanded today, I deserve it!). Anyhow, you meet all of those expectations and eventually you are strong and HEALED!

Side note: I’m so thankful I don’t have atherosclerosis because it’s a bitch to say. I can never seem to pull it off in a conversation with the nurses.

Last week I went for my first appointment at Cardiac Rehab – had the tour and met with a nurse (?) therapist (?) who was very friendly and laughed at all of my jokes. I liked her obviously. I had to fill out a massive questionnaire about my eating habits – indicating on a sliding scale things like # of portions and healthiness for each food category. For example: light and healthy oils for cooking on the left, margarine in the middle, butter butter butter on the right. I knew I should be circling shit on the left, but it was almost always on the far right. Oh well. Good to have a crappy baseline. Easy to improve.

Once she knew everything about my health and diet and what I’ve been doing since my heart attack (nothing), she told me about all of the classes that I can sign up for. They’ll teach me about the heart. And heart attacks. What to do. That kind of thing. As I was thinking lots of things in my head that weren’t very positive and likely on the arrogant side (but keeping my face interested), she told me that there was a class about to start that I might be interested in some day. She swept the curtain back with a flourish, and there, seated in a semi circle attached to various oxygen machines or mobility devices were my comrades. It was so hilarious. I mean. OMG. I was just so funny. Anyway.

Then I was told that I couldn’t start till I had a stress test. Wait for the call. Okie dokie! Outta there.

What is a Stress Test?

Ahh well, it is actually a bit stressful. I went to Cardiac Rehab on time but by mistake, then had to rush to the Cardiology Clinic downtown to find that I was an hour early. Sheesh. CHEMO BRAIN. (I’m for sure going write about that next.) PLUS, during the test I couldn’t take a selfie – I was holding on for dear life. Stressful.

First the technician had me sign something. I didn’t read it of course. It was likely about having a heart attack – but I figure that’s her job, so it’s as good a place as any to have my next one (inside voice). She gave me a cute little pink top that I thought about stealing to go with my hospital pants. I had to leave it open at the top so that she could attach the 11 electrodes.

*Yes, my chest is not perfectly flat. I have boob buttons. Booblets. Boob babies. But that’s another ~~rant~~ post, just sayin’.*

THEN I SAW THE SANDPAPER, and without any “I’m really sorry that I have to do this”, she just started scratching away at my lily white skin. OMFG LET ME TELL YOU! The last time I was sanded was just before my angiogram and I thought I was going to punch the nurse in the face. At the time my skin was almost transparent from the chemo so it was horrifyingly painful. This wasn’t as bad since my skin is healthier, but ELEVEN TIMES, PEOPLE! How good of a connection do you really need? Why not just hack away at it? Grab a carrot peeler? For reals.

Then she put on a blood pressure cuff. Took a reading and we got started. I had to walk on the treadmill with 11 cables, a chest pack and a BP cuff till my heart rate got over 140 beats/min. I figured that would take no time at all, I’m so out of shape. But alas, apparently the beta blockers that make me so tired also slow my heart (for obvious reasons), so it took longer than I would have liked. She told me that every 3 minutes the machine would speed up and the incline would go up and she would take my BP. I was doing well till it felt like I was power walking up the hill to my cabin (which is freaking steep). I was starting to worry about the next 3 minute interval and I was only at 130 beats / min … and then JESUS GOD I HAD TO RUN! Now, this is not something I do. I find running to be TOTALLY UNNECESSARY. After a while as I was holding on for dear life and likely looking totally panicked she said “getting tired?” and I gave her a WTF ARE YOU JOKING kind of face. She turned off the machine. By now the sanded chest was SCREAMING from sweat and I was ready to lay on the floor. But I decided to not do that.

I did it. All done. I wait for the call for my first Cardiac Rehab session and hope that I don’t have to do that test again. If I do, I’m taking the pink top.

Moving Forward #asonedoes

Posted on May 15, 2018May 15, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Just to look back one more time … I present to you, my timeline of wtf.

The first bit:

Sept 14 2017 – routine mammogram #squished
Sept 21 – mag view mammogram (to get a better look, ya know?) #surewhynot
Oct 6 – biopsy #holyshitthatsawkward
Oct 19 – family doc reads results – CANCER. No biggie, I figure. I can deal. #cancerwtfareyoukiddingme
Oct 24 – surgeon appt – omg so HOT. phew. #silverlining #thereisagod
Oct 31 – MRI – met mr. lorazepam – weeeeee #notanaddict
Nov 17 – surgery – bi-lateral mastectomy – 53 staples, 2 drains and ms. oxy – weeeeee #thatsgoodshit #ihavesomeleft
Nov 23 – drains out – NASTY NASTY #justtrytorelax #didntpunchherout
Nov 27 – staples out – omg noooooooo – #breathebreathenamaste
Dec 7 – hot surgeon reads path reports – lymph nodes negative YAHOOOOO but not so fast he says, you’ll hear from an onc soon… #soonmeansnothing #merrychristmas

The Next Bit:

Dec 29 – fast talking, eye rolling oncologist explains treatment plan #shedidntbreathe #wedrovetothedirtyshwaforthis
Jan 4, 2018 – MUGA scan (heart test) #meh
Jan 9 – portacath insertion – FASCINATING #heyicanfeelthat
Jan 10 – first chemo #icandothis #circlebackwiththosecookieswouldya
weeks and weeks and weeks of awesome friends visiting and sending me shit, and me doing my damnedest to mitigate some rather nasty side effects #loveyoupeople #chemosucks
March 6 – Jenny shaved my head! #liberated #peoplelookbetterwithhair
March 14 – 10% reduction of chemo due to neuropathy development in hands & feet – I start freezing my extremities with ice – people stare #shutupimbeingproactive
March 28 – last chemo WOOT WOOT – feel like shit, but so happy it will be downhill from here – EXHAUSTED #imisswinesomuch

The last bit:

April 15 – heart attack WTF?? (It really does feel like your chest is in a vice. And it’s hard to breathe. NASTY NASTY) #shouldhavecalledanambulance #itwasnttheavocado
April 17 – angiogram to confirm SCAD “Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection” – it’s a thing #lookitup
April 24 – meet with stern oncologist who I notice thinks with her eyes shut – no Herceptin for me until she talks to my cardiologist (ya, well, I don’t have one… OMG REALLY?) #idontwanttorestanymore #fuckoff
May 6 – Hike for Hospice (in a wheelchair, but I did it!) – My team raised over $11,000 WOOT WOOT – I love my peeps #fundraisingwin #dontaskmetodothisnextyear

Ok what? Unplanned meets planned. Did it all.

The final straw bit:

May 7 – @ 2 am I start passing a kidney stone – think I’m dying – mr. morphine saved my ass – SWEEEEEET – CAT scan confirmed it #thankspaulforholdingmypukecontainer
May 10 – cardiac ultrasound – technician is no nonsense – asked her to ultrasound my boob bumps – NOT IMPRESSED WITH ME #omgsofunnyinmyhead
May 11 – kidney stone expelled – the mother fucker had two sharp points #shouldibronzeit
May 15 – met with oncologist who actually smiled (maybe she thinks I deserve ONE smile) – clears me for treatment and agrees to send my kidney stone off for analysis #inquiringmindswanttoknow #heyyoudidsomethingnice
May 16 (tomorrow)- Herceptin resumes (this is my 6th treatment) – have to have a loading dose again because it’s been 6 weeks since my last treatment (double the amount and a 1 hour observation period CRAPPY but I like the chemo suite … free cookies, ya know?) #petitioningfororeos

So the breast removal is done, the chemo is done, the heart attack is done, the kidney stone is done. All I have left is my targeted therapy, Herceptin. I continue to get it every 3 weeks till I have had a total of 18 treatments. In order to make it fun I have decided to take the remaining number of treats to the nurses. 12 tomorrow – a dozen of blueberrry muffins, me thinks (last time it was 13 chocolate dipped oreos! NOM NOM). #gottamakeyourownfun

The only other thing is, well, recovery. I somehow keep forgetting that I’m actually IN recovery. Both from the chemo and now the heart attack. So ya, being slow and tired is the new normal and being patient with it all is also pretty new. #workingonit

Thanks for all of the lovingkindness. Strength in numbers, I say! #peaceout

SCAD

Posted on April 19, 2018 by pioneerintrees

So it’s now Day 5 (with Day 1 being the day that I had the heart attack). Before we go too far, a bit of a recap. I had a heart attack. I went to emerg. I had tests. The bloodwork showed elevated levels of troponin which confirmed heart damage. I had more tests. An angiogram showed why it happened – not a buildup of plaque or gooky lard from the cake I eat (surprising, really…), but from a sudden rupture: SCAD (Spontaneous Cardiac Artery Dissection).

I went home with some instructions about my wrist (where the angiogram needle went in), and vague directions about resting and a promise that a cardiologist would call me. Fine. So I’m now sitting here analyzing the little info that I have.

Non-STEMI

After my 2nd set of blood tests came back I was told my the emerg doc that I had a non-STEMI. (Often written NSTEMI.) Here’s an overview of what it means:

STEMI means ST-elevation myocardial infarction (heart attack)
non-STEMI means non-ST-elevation myocardial infarction (duh)
ST refers to the ST segment, which is part of the ECG heart tracing used to diagnose a heart attack. The ST that shows up on the ECG creates a specific appearance on the monitor. (see below)
A STEMI shows up well on an ECG, my non-STEMI didn’t show up at all.
A STEMI happens as a result of a complete blockage in a coronary artery. A non-STEMI heart attack is when an artery is partially blocked and blood flow is severely reduced.
A STEMI attack carries a great risk of death and disability. A non-STEMI is less damaging to the heart.
They like to write STEMI in CAPS.
An ECG and an EKG are exactly the same thing. (EKG has been translated into German. Go figure.)

The photocopy

Looking at the printout of my arteries that I posted in my previous blog entry you can that the damage is in the dLAD. Here it is again:

Of course my first question was what the hell is dLAD??

Well, it’s the Distal Left Anterior Descending Coronary Artery. I obviously needed to know a bit more about arteries so that I could understand the photocopy better. Here they are:

The LAD is an important artery since it supplies over half of the heart muscle with blood. Of course it is! So the dLAD is:

on the left side of my body (looking out at the world from my eyeballs)
runs down the front wall of my heart

Second question is what does 95% mean?

Ok I know what 95% means …, but what does it mean in the context of SCAD? I believe it means that I had 95% blockage because of the SCAD. So only 5% of the blood was getting to my heart muscle. Yes?? I think so.

The Diagnosis

SCAD. I can never just SAY that in expanded notation. It takes me a LOT of thought to bring it forward in my chemo induced state of crappy recall. Spontaneous (not sudden). Coronary (not cardiac). Artery (not arterial). Dissection (not disaster). Say it with me: spontaneous coronary artery dissection. There.

What I know to be true about SCAD:

it’s relatively rare
it happens most commonly to women in their 40s and 50s
80% of the time the women are young, healthy and active with none of the risk factors that you would normally think of (like diabetes, high blood pressure, eating crappy food 24/7)
there is no known cause – happens a lot after childbirth, doing extreme exercise, after lots of stress – but nothing definitive (NO WHERE can I find chemo listed in any of the literature as a cause)
the symptoms are the same as those for any kind of heart attack (chest pain, rapid heartbeat, pain in arms / shoulders / jaw, shortness of breath, sweating, tiredness, nausea, dizziness)
treatment is generally blood pressure meds and beta blockers (prevents clotting)
there is a high risk of recurrence (oh shit.)

What Actually Happens in SCAD:

The artery wall has 3 layers. When a tear occurs, blood is able to pass into the innermost layer and get trapped there. In some cases a clot forms there. This trapped blood or clot starts to bulge inward, narrowing the artery and preventing blood from getting to the heart muscle. BAM! Heart attack.

Types of Arteries — *The blue arrow represents blood flow, in case you were wondering (just like in the pad commercials).*

Remaining Questions

So… the event happened. I’ve seen the needle and the damage done. But I still want to know:

– Is this because of the chemo? Or is it because I had just spent 30 min scraping 10cm of ice off of my hot tub? Or is it because I started exercising again?

– Can I continue with my Herceptin treatment?

– Why doesn’t a cardiologist call me? Can’t he/she see that I have so many questions? Calling me “within 4 weeks” doesn’t work for me. OMG!

And now back to my quiet, sedentary activities. Somebody pass me a chocolate.

Bit of a Heart Thing

Posted on April 17, 2018 by pioneerintrees

On Sunday I was having a snack (healthy, I will add) after being out for a walk in the freezing rain and scraping off the ice encrusted hot tub lid. I figured I wouldn’t make it to dinner (I was around 3 pm… the time where you know that if you stay hungry, you’ll be so ravenous during dinner prep that you’ll eat half of everything you chop up). Mid snack I found myself experiencing some chest pain, coupled with pain between my shoulder blades and also pain down the backs of my arms and into my baby fingers. Not little pain. Serious pain. Out of nowhere. My thought process went like this:

– am I having an angina attack … or something? Am I stressed? Did I pull muscles in my arms when scraping that ice?

– I said “calm the fuck down” to myself, even though I felt perfectly calm.

– I thought hmm. I wonder if I’m having a heart attack? Well, if so, I’d better have a shower.

– so I had a shower. Nervously. And quickly.

– pain still there a bit, but better, maybe I’m ok? Lay my chest on the bathroom counter. Calm the fuck down. Breathe.

– wondered … is this caused by the Herceptin? I’d better look that up. (Google search ensued) No connection to chest pain. Hmmm.

– back to snack area, had another episode … hurting again. Wondered – am I allergic to avocado?

– decided I should likely go to the hospital – didn’t want to scare the kids.

– went upstairs and quickly packed a bag with practically all of my technology, a book and my wallet

– decided that it would be stupid to drive myself and not tell anyone – I would get serious shit for that from … everyone

– texted Paul and asked him to bring over the ribs now. And maybe he would need to drive me to the hospital. Now.

– told the girls I wasn’t feeling well – that I’d text them – and that I would be ok … (Annie looked traumatized.)

– figured I’d be fine by the time I got to the hospital, but that I should still go, even though it was in the middle of an ice storm. Fine.

What happened at Emerg – Day One:

I sat in chairs for a bit as there were no receiving nurses in their little booths. The lady who came in behind me was having a hard time keeping her young daughter awake (she had hit her head) – so when the nurse finally came out I told her to go first. Got checked in eventually, put on a face mask (since she made me).

I was ushered into a little room for an ECG. I took off my jacket and sweatshirt I realized that I looked a bit like a skinhead – all in black with my Doc Martens (for the icy roads). Had Paul take this pic …

Skinhead Halloween costume — It’s a keeper.

Then some blood work and into an exam room to wait for the results of the ECG and blood work. Eventually saw a doc who did a history and told me that everything looked fine in the tests so far. Went to the “lounge” to wait 3 hours till I could do a repeat of the ECG and blood work. Waited. It came back showing elevated levels of Triponin which is a marker of a heart attack. It can go as high as 40 … once it’s over 40 it’s considered a “massive heart attack” and they don’t measure it anymore. My first test was a .1 which was why no one seemed too concerned, second test was a 3 which showed that something definitely happened. (Eventually these markers went as high as 9.7 before they came back down again.)

So I had a heart attack. My head was spinning a bit.

I was put in a different room in emerg where the doc asked me if I still had any pain. (Everyone was taking it more seriously now.) I told him that I had some pressure in my throat and carotid (neck) but that I wouldn’t call it pain. He just stared at me. I guess I’ve become so used to discomfort with the chemo side effects … a bit of pressure in the throat is no big deal. He gave me some pills to thin my blood. And some big huge potassium pills – had to break them in half. Lots of pills.

Oh, and some morphine. I said I didn’t want any thanks. They said it was important to take away the remaining pain in my throat and carotid – but also because it also acts as a vasodilator, which is important apparently. Once high as a kite I was much less upset about having a heart attack. Go figure. Saw the cardiologist who had a great handshake, the same haircut as me and explained that I’d need an angiogram. This was the quote of the day: “Dr. Ball? B. A. L. L.?” (Said morphined up Janice. Deanne thought it was hilarious.)

Transferred to my the ICU at 1am. Much quieter there. Sleeping pill. Annnnnnd out.

What happened at the ICU – Day Two:

I lay in bed all day waiting for the angiogram. Had a muffin that Paul got me at Tim’s – the Hospital food was not quite appealing enough…

Cereal for the elderly — *This begins to look good when you’re not allowed to eat anything …*

Wasn’t able to eat anything after 10 until after my procedure was done. We all placed bets on when we thought it would happen – one of the nurses was hopeful with a 1:30 slot – Michele went long with 5:00. No one won since they couldn’t fit me in. I know it’s a good thing that I was low on the priority list for an angiogram, but being hooked up all day in bed (and hungry) kinda sucked. And so many things attached to my body … heart, finger, wrist. Yeesh.

Needle and the damage done — Necessary. Evil.

Highlights of the day included a visit from Michele and Deanne where we suddenly realized that Paul and Michele were dressed exactly alike. Which we found outrageously amusing.

Quote of the day: “You’ve kind of had a shit year.” (Deanne) … seemed a lot funnier in the moment.

Later a visit from Alison when we determined that yes, I could knit if I put the oximeter on my toe. Works like a charm. Called Bree and Annie to have them find me a Zauberball and some needles to be delivered the next day. Excited!

Toe jam — Good thing I have long, skinny toes!

Sleeping pill. Annnnnnd out.

What happened at the Hospital – Day Three:

After a breakfast of grapes had a visit from my 2nd cardiologist (who I also met yesterday and his name is impossible to spell, I will add). He confirmed that this regimen of pills will be my “new normal” (minus the needle they put in my belly at night – I don’t have to do that one at home). He explained that I’d be moving to Telemetry which sounded to me like a Hogwarts class (he didn’t laugh). He told the nurse to get me up and moving HURRAY! And he explained what will happen with the angiogram – that if there is a blockage in the vessels they will put in a stent right then, but if there are several they will not do open heart surgery since I’ve just had chemo (ok, …. was that a joke? … he didn’t laugh..) I filed it under ‘that’s good to know’.

So I’m signing off now … will post again after the angiogram. So exciting, this life of mine! Stay tuned…

Recovery Looks Like a Y

Posted on April 12, 2018 by pioneerintrees

Well, this is my first “week off” from treatment since January (over 3 months ago). When Shelley sent this text on Wednesday morning I panicked a little bit at first …

text from Shelley — *I just love Shelley cookies!! Hoping for the PB and m&m ones …*

I’m DONE chemo (all 12 weeks of it)!! I still am in treatment (it’s not over till it’s over) since I continue with Trastuzumab every 3 weeks until January 2019 (brand name is Herceptin). But Trastuzumab is no where near as toxic as the chemo. I can function with it. I wrote about it in an earlier post so I won’t bore you, but as a quick recap, Trastuzumab – ok, let’s just call it Herceptin from here on in – is a targeted therapy (not like chemo that annihilates every growing cell). It’s an antibody that blocks the protein that causes HER-2 positive cancer cells to grow. A revolutionary discovery. The guys who discovered are total heroes – they were unwavering in their beliefs that there were cancer cells that overproduced certain proteins – but they couldn’t get the finances and research support to prove it. Before Herceptin was discovered, this type of HER-2 positive cancer essentially killed women … and fast. Women had a very low chance of survival. This drug changed everything. Dennis Slamon and Axel Ullrich. Thank you. And thank you to the goddess at Revlon who was diagnosed with breast cancer, heard about these two and proceeded convince Revlon to fund their research to the tune of 13 million.

diagram — *How is this helpful?? Seriously don’t understand it.*

The one rather nasty part of this very positive story is that Herceptin causes heart damage. I have to have a MUGA scan every 3 months to be sure that my heart function is not being compromised. And I have to watch for signs of cardiac distress. Like passing out.

What Happens in Recovery?

Basically, I have to heal from the effects of the toxic sludge that was poured into my body. I also need to heal the tissues and muscles on my chest, expand the range of motion. That kind of thing. And at the same time I need to keep my heart strong so that it has a better chance of not being negatively affected by the Herceptin. Sounds like a walk in the park. (That’s May 6th folks… in case you forgot!)

What’s Happening So Far?

On the outside I def look like a cancer ~~victim~~ patient. I’m bald, pasty, have minimal eyebrows. On the inside I’m fucking tired! My nasal passages still bleed and crust up. But I’m feeling better. I don’t notice a change every day – not that kind of thing. I just notice that:

my guts don’t hurt
I can eat tomatoes now (spicy stuff still burns, sadly …)
I don’t have mouth sores
I don’t have to take Senekot to poop

How am I Facilitating my Recovery?

Well I am tired a lot so I try to rest. L. M. A. O. Ya so, I’m not just sitting around waiting to get better. None of that shit. I want to be better NOW! Lucky for me, my cousin Cheri is a prof in the Kinesiology Dept at the U of Windsor who is researching the relationship between recovery from cancer and exercise. (Yep. That’s my cousin! Doing it all for me! LOL) She was very quick to tell me that research clearly indicates that exercise offsets some of the detrimental cardiac and vascular effects of Herceptin (yes – the biggest side effect is a weakening of the heart). Here’s a great quote she sent me:

“Most impressive of all, moderate to vigorous intensity progressive exercise training prevents recurrence and death from breast and colon cancer. The overriding message, is that exercise training is beneficial.” – American College of Sports Medicine 2016.

Ya. So that means I HAVE TO EXERCISE! (oh, and I love it soooooo much…)

Here are the guidelines that she has sent me (a combo of suggestions from Cancer Care Ontario and the American College of Sports Medicine):

aerobic exercise (aka cardio):
- 150 minutes of accumulated moderate intensity aerobic exercise (seems reasonable till you figure that 150 min is more than 2 hours … just sayin’)
- using large muscle groups
- spread over 3 to 5 days / week (so that’s 30 – 50 min of cardio at a time … gak)
- I can be biking, walking, swimming … as long as I have a noticeable increase in breathing and sweating while still being able to talk. No gasping or falling over either.
resistance (aka weights):
- 2x / week (that’s feeling more reasonable)
- 8 – 10 muscle groups (8?? 10?? what?? I’m good with biceps, triceps, shoulders, back, chest. That’s 5. Oh dear.)
- 8 – 10 reps, 2 sets (simple. It’s the number of muscles that’s the problem.
- can use free weights, weight machines, isokinetic machines (ummmmm whaaa?), resistance bands, circuit training (no thanks if this involves me pushing someone sitting on bench or something daft like that), functional exercises (like splitting wood??)
- if combined with aerobic session, I can scale back on my aerobic exercise (20 min max) HALLELUJAH. Must. Do. Weights.
flexibility (aka Yoga):
- 3x / week
- 20 seconds / stretch, 2 – 4 reps / stretch
- static stretches of hips, knees, shoulders and neck
- This is TOTALLY manageable. I can watch Netflix and stretch like a pro.

Do I want to do this? No. Do I have to do this? Yes. So, motivated by my fitnfreakinfabuless friend Kate, I started my exercise regime 6 days after my final chemo. Lemme tell ya, I’m no spring chicken, but I can still kick some exercise butt! For example, today I did a 1 hour Hatha Yoga class at the Y (just slight tenderness here and there), yesterday 30 min on the treadmill with about 1 minute of RUNNING (and I nearly collapsed trying to push the arrow down button), the day before 40 lengths of the pool (aka 1,000 metres). I love the feeling of the water on my bald head by the way. Very cool perk to baldness.

Sadly, part of the chemo aftermath is the feeling of exhaustion. Which I hate. But it’s still there even with the hating. Go figure. So the trick is to do this exercise stuff in the morning since I have very little energy by 2 pm.

See you at the Y!

Walk with Jan

Posted on March 23, 2018 by pioneerintrees

We all have things that we aspire to do when we have time. Something that I’ve always wanted to do is to get involved with Hospice in some way – ideally as a volunteer. Going through this crappy cancer journey has reminded me of this goal, since one of the goals of Hospice is to help people who are dealing with a life threatening illness live their lives to the fullest. I’m doing that right now, although I don’t needs the services of Hospice – hallelujah x 1 million.

The Organization

If you don’t know about what Hospice is, you’re not alone. A lot of people have no idea that this incredible organization exists, or if they do, they don’t really understand its purpose.

Generally speaking, when someone is dealing with a life threatening or terminal illness they need support. The family needs support. Hospice provides it. As people reach the end of their lives and are in palliative care, Hospice is invaluable.

Currently Hospice Peterborough is building a new facility on London street. It’s a huge endeavour. Here’s a quote from their website:

“The new London Street building will provide a welcoming, accessible space for Hospice Peterborough’s home support program, day program, caregiver support, grief programs, family support, wellness programming and administrative offices. The scope of Hospice is also expanding to include 10 private bedrooms, offering another choice for end of life care in the community and the first hospice care beds to exist in the City and County of Peterborough. This will complete Hospice’s transition to become a central hub for the delivery of hospice palliative care and grief support in our community.”

looking straight at the entrance

The Pitch

So I’d like to ask a favour. Will you walk with me on May 6th to raise money for Hospice? It’s the day before my 53rd birthday. It would be the best birthday present ever! I will be in recovery from the chemo (although still having other regular non-chemo treatments) and I should be good to walk the suggested route (or most of it).

The Options

No walking – but can donate! Perfect. You likely live too far away, have small children or are too lazy. Haha!

You can donate by pledging to me that you will give me cash. Just let me know how much you can donate in a comment on this page, on Facie, by text or email, phone me, Insta, come over … OMG. Just let me know how much … then I’ll come after you!

OR….

You can donate by going to my team page on the Hike for Hospice website and clicking on “Donate”. There you’ll find a little ditty that I wrote. After you read it, you can donate something by clicking on the blue button. Easy peasy. (Or you could go to the Hike for Hospice website and search for my team, but that’s unnecessary.)

OR…. Walk with me! Outta site!!! Now that would be so much fun …

Just go to my team page and rather than “donate”, click on “join team”. From there you choose the type of participant you want to be. You can just walk, add a donation, or you can set your own fundraising goal and then ~~harass~~ persuade some of your friends to give YOU money for Hospice. This way you can compete with me to see who can raise more money. (I am very competitive, just sayin’.) If you want to do that, just set a goal for fundraising, and make your own donation (I didn’t do this the first time and it took AGES to figure out how to donate, not just set a fundraising goal…)

The Final Comment

I don’t generally like to hit people up for money, but come on. I have cancer, it’s (going to be) my birthday, and Hospice is awesome. Please walk with me and / or make a small donation to a great organization!!

xoxoxo J