public "out"-ing of myself...

I still think back to the day that my friends came over and helped me clipper off my hair. It was liberating, invigorating, and one of the best nights I've ever had. What may not have been so obvious was that even though I faced losing hair with defiance, a smile, and a willingness to show cancer "who's boss" I ended up feeling a bit like a split personality. Maybe if you consider that bald Michelle is the crazy action hero then the normal Michelle disguised herself amongst the general population by wearing wigs. In some ways looking "normal" was also a way to show that I was taking this all in stride. I wasn't looking for sympathy or for someone to give me a break. I was just as committed and dedicated and hard working as ever before and didn't want to give anyone a chance to see me as weak. But alas I grew tired of wigs. They are hot, itchy, tight, and generally uncomfortable. For those who have worn pantyhose I would say it's the same experience - it kind of makes you look good for a while, but then you want to claw them off and shred them. So I switched to scarves. I remember the first time I went to the office with a scarf and wondered if I would get odd looks and if people would ask or say something. Then I would have to go through the whole story convincing them (and myself) that this is all just a piece of cake - hmmmmm cake - everybody loves cake! 

So, in a nutshell, loosing hair is one of the most obvious (and for most women very difficult) parts of going through cancer treatment. Throughout most of my chemo I had my eyebrows and lashes. But around the time of my last treatment even those started to dwindle. About five weeks ago I had one long eyelash on my left eye and three on my right. I felt pangs of loss about a month ago when I looked in the mirror and those long lashes had fallen out. It's not like they were luxurious and model-worthy but I was left with tiny little stubble. They weren't even a millimeter long! I researched online (using Bing AND Google) shopping for answers and hoping to find a website that would tell me they would grow back instantaneously. At this point my hair was still falling out in tiny little wispy tufts, but I was determined to stop shaving it and see what it did. The last time I shaved my head was Sunday August 1st. The day before my last chemo treatment.



June 26th, 2010 - towards the end of chemo





September 28, 2010 - 2 months hair growth



Finally about a week ago my eyelashes started to grow longer and my hair stopped falling out. So this past Friday was a big office-wide meeting. I went au-natural. No scarf, no wig, no false eyelashes. I felt very self conscious most of the time. I think it went well since I got lots of compliments - of course what else do you say to the woman who has cancer other than she looks great? It's not like someone could say: "Wow, you better get a refund on that haircut!" or "Did you do that at home with the lawnmower?" I don't really know the psychology of why I wanted to do it. But it felt liberating and like I was finally being much more honest with my co-workers and maybe even with myself. Now if I wear a scarf it's because I want to either to keep my head warm or because it's just the perfect color to go with an outfit. It's truly a fashion statement rather than an attempt to prevent other people from being uncomfortable. Just so people have a little comparison of what this fantastic new hair style looks like I have posted some pictures. The picture with Anna was taken towards the end of June. She was thrilled to swipe my scarf from my head. The other picture (of me in the green shirt) was taken tonight. Today is exactly 8 weeks after my last chemo treatment!

Even though I have 4 more radiation treatments the public signs of battling cancer are soon going to fade into a distant memory....

5/25 left - but then what?

It seems like the end is in sight. I started writing this post when I had about 9 treatments left and just kept having too much other stuff get in the way of finishing the update. Today however marks a nice milestone. Barring unforeseen circumstances I will be done in exactly one week. My last day is scheduled for October 4th. Originally it was estimated that I would have 25-28 treatments. Last Monday I met with my radiation oncologist and he confirmed that I will only be going through 25 total treatments. That's because the fancy machine they're using on me can vary the extent of radiation to give the more intense dose exactly where they want it. Had my insurance not covered the cost of the fancy machine they would need to radiate the whole area 28 times to get the maximum effect for certain high-risk parts of my body. Isn't it nice that this is all so clinical? Fortunately he even let it slip that I was "going to be just fine". Not that you want to read too much into it, but it's nice to hear that the doctor is confident that the treatment will work. But statistics suck. Because even if you try to focus on the positive there is always the other sliver. You know, the ones who don't make it. The ones we are all pretending won't be me. I guess ever since I found out that my cancer was classified as Stage IV it's been hard to just ignore that possibility. Sometime shortly after I was diagnosed I allowed myself to go through a mini phase of the fear, anger, grief, and mourning. But then I firmly planted my feet into the denial bucket. It was going to take a lot to move me out of that realm. I just stuffed all the emotions deep inside (just like Marge told Lisa to do). Somehow in the back of my mind I allowed myself to believe that I didn't want to waste a perfectly good summer (that actually rained more than it's fair share) by being a complete emotional basketcase. So I put on my Pollyanna face and moved forward like there was nothing wrong. And most of the time I feel great.

But here we are, close to the end of my triathlon from hell (surgery, chemo, radiation) and I've spent the past week worrying about things that never crossed my mind before. Silly things like: what if this didn't work? what if it comes back? what kind of treatment can I have if it recurs?

So for all my supporters who think that I'm kicking this thing's butt and making it look easy I guess there's the ugly truth - MOST of it's easy, but every once in a while you get a little head-trip that spins you for a loop and makes you look things up on the internet you wished you hadn't researched. Things like the fact that I really didn't want to know survival statistics if this thing comes back. And that I now can't expunge the knowledge that treatment options are VERY limited the second time around. So, don't go look it up, it was silly of me to do so, and you don't need that kind of stress. ;)

you've got to be kidding me...

"You've got to be kidding." That's all I can really think when I read the summaries from my doctors' offices. As I mentioned a while back I just don't know how to balance the time commitment of radiation along with a job that is supposed to be 50-ish hours a week. So I asked for my doctor to submit information for my short term disability for 1-2 days a week. They provided me a full copy of the radiation oncologist's notes and my oncologist's notes so I could submit it myself. The upside is that they consider me to be "a plesent 35 year old female". However, it seems my oncologist thought I was 4 feet 11 inches... hmmm... I'm actually 5 feet 9 inches (I hope they didn't confuse me with someone else when they treated me!). My radiation oncologist has the slightly more troubling description. If you remember it was my left ovary that had a tumor and my right lymph node that had "rare keratin positive signet ring cells, consistent with isolated tumor cells" (aka cancer). It's also my left lymph node that has been swollen and that was evaluated with the FNA (the Fine Needle Aspiration biopsy that I wrote about a while ago). However my radiation oncologist thinks that all the cancer was on my left. This is probably not an issue as I think they're treating me "bilaterally" i.e. they're beaming the same stuff at both sides; but, since there's nothing in the notes about that and there's the off chance that they're trying to cure me by beaming a side of my body that doesn't need it I put a call in to my doctor's office...

Don't you just envy my life? I just wonder if I were to deliver my work with the same amount of care and detail that these guys do if I wouldn't be fired. Oh - yeah - the kicker - my doctors are considered by their peers to be some of the best in the region. And Seattle is one of the top 5 places to be treated for cancer. No wonder people die from this crap!

five down 20-23 to go...

Radiation started this past week. I have now endured 5 sets of being bombarded by particles that both cure and cause cancer. Monday the ordeal kicked off about 1/2 hour late. I have one of the earlier timeslots in the morning and these appointments are supposed to run much more like a swiss clock than normal doctor's visits, which I would liken to swiss cheese. So this did not leave me with the confidence that things would always be on time and on schedule. Fortunatey Tuesday - Thursday was pretty much on time, but Friday was almost an hour late. Given that the actual radiation treatment takes about 1/2 hour the overall average time commitment is close to 2 hours once you factor in the commute and changing into approrpiate garb. Also, on a weekly basis I am expexted to meet with the radiation oncologist to make sure treatment is going well. So far things are going okay and I have minimal debilitating side effects. However, given that I have about 10 hours a week dedicated to those doctor's appointments and I'm working full-time I've still been trying to figure out how to fit all things together. Add on top of that the other personal obligations such as Katarina's first day of kindergarten (which is probably worthy of a whole post in and of itself).

The radiation is interesting enough. I get placed on a machine and they move me around until my tattoos and markings are lined up in the lazer sights. Then they cover me with a flimsy blanket to keep me warm and leave the room. I should be able to pick my music, but usually they have a classical CD playing. Thursday I got a trip down memory land starting with Dreamweaver and then Blinded by the Light - how fitting, eh? Then I start counting. The big machine zaps me from 9 different angles. I even started counting the number of total zaps to keep my mind off how cold I am or how uncomfortable it is to lie flat on my back on a metal plate (221 I think). I don't get the same number of beams from every angle, so it's kind of fun to know how far I've gone and how many are left: 27, move, 50, move, 72, 96, etc. It may not seem like much, but it helps to pass the time.

Like I mentioned, I have not felt too many side effects. Fatigue is a big one. Mere mortals probably would be wiped out, but I'm still powering through. The other main side effects are nausea and general digestive junk. To combat the nausea I have been eating more, which sadly is no help to my struggle to not gain any more weight. My doctor told me not to worry about it, but he's not the ones who can't fit into his cute gray pinstriped pantsuit.