The Breast Cancer Ninja- updated

Since this is a blog about workouts and weight loss, and my world is narrowing to talk about a much more focused experience… losing my boobs, I’ve decided to launch a new blog that will center on that experience.

Introducing: http://breastcancerninja.com/ I've registered this as my own, so shorter link!

So why the Breast Cancer Ninja, you may ask?  Last week while I was going thru all of the fun outlined in my posts, my mom, who is new to her Windows Phone, asked me how to find the smiley face that I sent her. I remembered a post from one of the Microsoft blogs that showed a bunch of the new emoticons, and there is was.  In Windows Phone, (J) = NINJA!  As the mother of a 9 year old boy, ninjas are big. And if you’re going to kick some cancer out of your body, why not be a ninja?

I may or may not return here when I kick the cancer’s ass, since from this point on, I will always be a survivor. We’ll see.  A couple weeks ago when I logged back in, Blogger told me it no longer supported my browser.  Internet Explorer 9.  I do PR for the same team that supports IE, and it’s still widely used, so I think that sucks.

When "positive" does not mean good

I’ve decided that the medical community needs to change their terminology. 

When I got the call Thursday afternoon, “Both sites sampled came back positive for invasive ductal carcinoma,” the only real positive is that I have an answer.  Not necessarily the one I wanted, but the one I expected… and still better than endless waiting.

The radiologist actually corrected himself and said that the “in situ” (which means if it’s just in the duct, or it’s invasive and has spread to other breast tissue) had not yet been determined, they were still finishing the pathology, but I have a feeling that again, he was going off of what he’s seeing. He may not be able to diagnose cancer based on looking, but he’s seen thousands of lumps, and knows what cancer looks like.

So really, at this point that’s all I know. 

I will schedule an MRI at some point in the coming days, since I go to Portland for work and then the Oregon Coast for a mini vacation with my boys starting next Thursday. I have an appointment with Seattle Cancer Care Alliance’s Breast Cancer clinic on Tuesday, 7/31 when I will have a 60 min upper body exam (not sure how that takes 60 min… do they use a microscope?) and then I meet my Medical Oncologist, Radiation Oncologist and Surgical Oncologist.  At that point we’ll know next steps, and how we’ll treat it.

The flip side of positive is where I’ve decided to live.  Of course I’m scared. As I said several years ago, still my favorite Gray’s Anatomy line of all time, "Well, we're all scared! I mean, if you're not scared you're not paying attention!"  

But I refuse to live my life in a scared place.  I’m going to kick this thing’s ass. If my mom can beat the less-commonly survived colon cancer at 59, I have NO EXCUSE not to beat breast cancer at 38.  I’m young (in cancer terms J), other than weight and my heart thing, I’m healthy… and I have a LOT to live for. I have amazing friends, family & co-workers who will all be cheering me on.

I plan to be a 50 year breast cancer survivor, with an option to reassess at year 45.  I figure by 83 I’ll have a better idea if I want to live past 88.  But for now, that seems like a solid goal, 88 years old.

So I’ve been working through my friends, and creating a comms plan, because in case I haven’t mentioned it before, my favorite favorite thing to do in PR is crisis communications.  I’ve been working through people who see me on a regular basis, mainly colleagues who this will tangentially effect. I’ll hit a few more of those people as well as those who I feel need to hear from me personally vs. through the grape vine in the next week, and then will start to go more broadly once I know more on the 31^st.

I’m even putting together a reactive QA, that covers many of the questions in my own head, as well as the responses to the awkward conversations I’ve now had over and over…

Me: Found a lump, blah, blah, blah, I have breast cancer.

Them: Oh, no! I’m so sorry.

Me: Thanks, me too.

Them: What can I do?  (See, the problem with being a proactive person like me, is you tend to collect those kinds of friends… who all need to DO something)
Me: Honestly, there is really nothing TO do right now.  I guess try not to smack me too hard upside the head when I seem distracted? Or be there for my mom & boys.  Hubby and mom are at the top of the freaking out list.  I think I’m actually at the bottom.  There is no choice here. I’m planning to kick its ass. I’m going to ninja the breast cancer right out of my breast. 

But on the up side, I’d always planned to get breast reduction surgery… this way insurance CAN’T turn me down, right?

For the moment I’m sticking with the eating part at least of my 20/20 program.  I feel like I was JUST taking control of my body, and now it’s being taken away… but I can control what I put in my mouth. So that’s something.

On July 8, when I’d found the lump, but hadn’t yet talked to doctors, I did a workout that involves me walking up and down a REALLY steep hill by my house. It’s on a semi-secluded road, and I composed a little bit of a blog while I was trudging up and dancing down the hill, but with my mind centered on my boob, I didn’t bother to ever write it. 

The gist is that the “Jimmy Eat World,” song, “The Middle,” came on, and felt like a perfect analogy for the being in the middle of changing my body, but since my diagnosis the chorus keeps running through my head, and has become a small addition to what I sing when my son needs a little extra help getting to sleep:

It just takes some time,

Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride,

Everything, everything will be just fine,

Everything, everything will be all right, all right.

Because that, my friends, is the plan. Everything will be all right.  I absolutely refuse to believe anything else.

I found a lump

And honestly, although the diet has been going well, it’s about all I’ve been able to think about since.

Since most people who I pretend are reading this care in my head about the workout & weight loss stuff, I’ll tell you that the first week on 20/20, I lost 8.2 lbs.  And I weigh in again this afternoon think I’ll continue doing well, although I’ve done less working out on my own because I’m in a weird head place. The diet piece has been relatively easy, I just drink a lot of shakes, and can’t eat a lot of stuff. I’ve found things that I like for the other foods and keep eating the same thing because I don’t have the mental energy to be creative about it yet.  But although I WANTED popcorn when I went to the movies the other day, I didn’t eat it. And that was fine.

But today, I feel like my entire existence is centered on my left breast.  I guess it was two weeks ago now, I was showering, and I usually lift each one to wash, but didn’t.  And with the weight down, I noticed a spot that didn’t feel right.  So I felt it again, tried the other side, and felt again.  There it is, a largish (approx. 2 cm) smooth oval.  I didn’t tell hubby, since I was afraid he’d go into panic mode, and I wouldn’t get to go to work, and I had meetings I wanted to get to… but I did a little research online.  What I felt sounded like a cyst. OK, cyst. I can totally deal with that.

Told the hubby that night, made him feel my boob.  First time ever I’ve had to push for THAT! He felt it too.  After the thing that happened with my appendix last year, I didn’t want to see anyone else at my Dr’s practice, so I waiting until I knew she was back from vacation, and e-mailed.  I already have a physical scheduled for next Monday, but wanted to know if she was OK waiting that long.  She said no.  I saw her last Saturday.

On physical exam, she also thought that it felt cyst-like, but wanted to get a full exam.  Mammogram time.

Yesterday, I had the mammogram.  This was actually my second one, I went in 6 years ago at age 32 because I had some milky discharge from my left breast quite some time after I’d quit breast feeding.  It came up clear, but there are a couple of things that I wish I’d remembered.

1)      Wear flats.  I think I’ve mentioned this, but I’m a relatively tall woman at 5’8” and I like to wear heels. Yesterday I had on some really cute Tom’s wedges… which made me approx. 5’11”.   This is not helpful to the techs who must manipulate my massive boob in their machine. Plus, you have to stand there for a while, so flats just would have been smarter. The annoying thing was that I had flip flops in the car & just didn’t change.

2)      Wear pants.  Since it was a warm day for Seattle, I wore a lovely pink dress because I wanted to feel pretty & confident.  Which worked until I got there & they told me to take everything off from the waist up & I realized that all I had was underwear from the waist down.  Not a big deal, the gown was long enough, but still, I would have loved the yoga pants that were also in my workout bag in the car.

My appointment was scheduled at 2:40p, so I figured I’d have plenty of time to make it to my trainer at 6p, even with a 45 min drive.  Not so much.

First, they needed additional mammograms in more specific areas.  On both breasts. Twice.  This started to make me nervous.  By all means, let’s be thorough, but really, mammograms do NOT feel good… WTF?  More than an hour later, it was time to go into ultrasound, and there I saw a radiologist.  They needed the additional pictures because what they saw on the initial mammogram made them suspicious. There was not only the lump I could feel, which is right at the skin, but another in my left breast.  And on more spot that looked different from 6 years ago on my right breast. 

It went on from there, and I ended up having a core biopsy as well as having two little “clips” put in that would be markers for a surgeon. Me: “But my doctor said if it’s a benign cyst, we’d likely just leave it alone.” Dr: “We are doing the biopsy to be sure, but what we are seeing indicates it is most likely malignant and you will need surgery.”

Oh.

So now I get to wait.  I probably have breast cancer. I will know in the next 12-48 hours. I have an aunt who is a 15 year survivor (so far). As I told my mom, if I have cancer, I will just have to be a 50-80 year survivor.  If I still want to be alive when I’m 118. 

But I can’t help wonder if this Saturday will be the last time I’ll have a birthday party for my son.  And even not, how I will function when the view from the top is no longer my cartoon-like K-cup boobs. And all I can really do is wait. 

I’m not really a very patient person… but stay tuned.  Perhaps this big girl will be trying to beat cancer. Sigh.

DNS, Chubby Chasers, and Wall-E

I always start these things apologizing for not writing in a while, but honestly, people who read them either know me and know what I’ve been up to… or don’t know me and likely aren’t waiting with baited breath for the next installment of my life, so either way it’s a little silly. 

The update since my last post is that I wimped out on both of my 13.1 that I’d signed up for.  I’ve said it before dead last > did not finish > did not start.  There are few things more embarrassing to me than committing to something and not even stepping over the starting line. There are several reasons for my DNS including sore ankles (sometimes I which I had cankles, then I might not roll them quite so easily) the cold from hell settling in my chest so that a deep breath = a coughing fit, but it really all comes down to excuses.  And since this is the one place where I don’t let myself get away with that, we’ll settle for truth. I pulled another pill-bug, and in my self-pity/depression spiral, didn’t got off my butt to train. As discussed before, I can do ANYTHING that I train for.  And when I don’t train I just don’t get as much done.  My husband actually asked me not to do the races, because he was worried that I would collapse along the way.  I don’t believe that I would have, but my self-esteem has been low enough that instead of pushing back I caved.

I’ve decided on a brand new tactic on getting rid of the excuses as well as my butt, and my current plan is to blog it here, since I find it therapeutic, but thought I’d explain how some of the decision came together before getting to what the decision is.  And just so you know, if I don’t share as much as I’d like, it’s not because I haven’t written at least a blog a day in my head… it’s because I have a lot of work ahead of me to get fit, so I’m hoping to have less PC time.

A couple of weeks ago for work, I had to travel to Miami.  I could go into how my job has changed and why I was there and blah blah, but it doesn’t really relate to my story. I was hosting my spokesperson and a reporter, as well as meeting with spokespeople from our customer company, so a total of 6 of us spent around 5 hours together touring the customer’s facility and checking out their technology, and one of the guys from the other company winked at me a few times.  That night at dinner I made a comment to my exec that he was a winker… and she said he didn’t wink at HER at all, so he was probably hitting on me. I always assume that the reason it doesn’t occur to me that someone could be hitting on me is the fact that I’ve spent the last 20 years with the same guy, but my next thought confirmed for me that it goes a little deeper.  When I realized that there was a moment when his hand lingered on my arm, so he could have been hitting on me, my first thought was, “Gee, he didn’t seem like he’d be a chubby chaser.”

I can’t imagine another reflexive thought that would better encapsulate my total lack of self-esteem right now than the idea that a successful, attractive man might find ME attractive, than to deny that he would be a chubby chaser. WTF?! 

Flash to last week, doing movie night with my son, he picked Pixar’s Wall-E.  And all I could think was, if I don’t get off my ass, I’m going to turn into those people on the ship- with no bones or muscles, just fat. 

I’d already decided to try a new tactic, the 20/20 Lifestyles program.  It’s run through one of the local health clubs, and combines physician supervision with a dietician once a week, trainer 3x/week and even a “lifestyle counselor” aka therapist every other week to get to total weight loss. Depending on how much you have to lose, it can range from crazy expensive to obscenely expensive (hint, I fall in the most $$$ range) and is only covered by insurance for ONE local company who I happen to work for as a vendor… so not a part of their benefits program. But I have had clients who have been successful, and after doing a bunch of research online where I wasn’t able to find any negative reviews, I decided to go for it.

So at the moment, I’ve just met with my doctor, and am waiting to meet with my dietician for the first time.  I had my measurements taken last week, and 53.6% of my body is fat.  I’m not sure how that happened, and how I got here, but if I ever want to catch up with my kid when he’s running 5k, I have to do something.  If I want to hold his babies (I know, he’s not even 9 until this weekend so that’s WAY far away, but I like to plan ahead) then I have to do SOMETHING.  And if I refuse to ever, ever have another DNS, I have to do something. 

Being here today is my start.

The View from the Top

I started this post weeks ago, but first one thing came up, and then another… and then I looked at the pics and didn’t want any parallels with a certain picture taking member of congress, but I think I have a better point.

Body image is an amazing thing. I always thought of myself as SO fat growing up, to the point where I flirted with a couple of eating disorders, but I look back now, and I was pretty normal.

I’ve recently realized, that I think it has a lot with how I LITERALY look at myself.



My view, mainly my top



I’ve never loved having my picture taken, but in the last several years as I’ve packed on the pounds, I actively avoid it. I don’t love pictures of my chubby face, but am more likely to allow that than something that shows my curves. I don’t even really hang out in front of mirrors. I stand there long enough to “put my face on” as my mom would say, but I’ve got a 5 min makeup routine down to a science.

So most of the time I look at myself, all I is my ridiculous chest. If I stand up straight, I haven’t been able to see my toes since entering high school… and other than pregnancy, my belly has never stuck out past my chest. I’m sitting here, to try and share the view, but from here, does this really look like someone who is obese?

But the fact is, I’ve got 100 lbs to lose.

So I’m going to open up just a tiny bit more, and try to bring this blog back to the training blog it was always meant to be, and track my progress.

A few weeks ago I went to check out Positive Changes, hypnosis for weight loss. After they told me how much ($2600 for the recommended 9 month program) I balked, and figured I could do more in race fees for that… and bought a $9.99 download on iTunes. Leave comments or message me if you want specifics, but I think it’s kind of working. Five pounds down, 95 to go.

I’m not sure if I’ll post again before the See Jane Run, but I do promise to train, at least some.

And although I’m not planning to take any cell phone pics in a mirror and share, I’m going to try and take a good hard look more often. Hopefully as the summer goes along I’ll be happier about what I see.

She believed she could so she did

As always, I’d intended to write sooner, and I’ve even started another post, but this weekend I lost a friend, and although I know she appreciated my snarkiness when I’m… let’s just say overly honest, that’s not what I think is appropriate this week.

Last time I wrote I was sobbing, and evidently I made Tricia cry too. But a week ago Monday she let her friends know that she was not allowed visitors anymore, and she wasn’t going to answer our e-mail anymore for a little while because the pain had gotten so bad. By Saturday AM, she was gone.

Her friends knew she was watching Facebook, so we’d been posting notes of love & encouragement, songs of love and inspiration… but one of her favorite quotes (which she was the first to call cheesy) was from Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life,” and it embodied the last two years for Tricia.  The line is simple: “I just want to live while I’m alive.”

So many of us just go through the motions, and I know I’m as guilty of that as the next person.  I’m not going to say something silly like I’m going to go live my life for Tricia, and do things she didn’t get to so, because that’s not what I think she would want. Beyond my personal "random act of kindness," of leaving my full punch card to pay for coffee in the car behind me, I think she would want me to live MY life, and work on MY bucket list.

Today my husband gave me a belated Mother’s Day gift (because it just arrived in the mail, not because he forgot) that I found on etsy.com. As a fellow etsy addict, I know she’d appreciate this necklace.

Ten years ago, I first heard of this thing called the Breast Cancer 3 Day. It was a walk, not a race, 60 miles over three days. I thought to myself, “Huh, I can do that.”

I tried to find someone to do it with me, but all anyone would tell me is that they couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t do it. So of course, I did.

Three years ago I decided to get “doing a triathlon” off my bucket list. That summer I ended up doing three. And here, I encouraged others to join in.

Two months ago I walked my first Half Marathon. In July, I’ll do my second, and by the Portland Rock n Roll Half next May, I’m planning to at least run a little. My goal is four hours for the See Jane Run event this year, and next year, at least 3:30.

My point is, the best way I can honor the memory of one of the bravest people I’ve ever known, I’m going to keep doing things, just because I believe that I can.  The only lame thing about the 3 day, is that I did it all by myself, so now, I’m recruiting. 

Any lady out there who is up for a little walk that ends with some Chocolate and Champagne… let me know.  I believe that you can, and then you will!

So damn lucky

As usual when it’s been a while since I’ve written, I’ve got a great blog rolling around in my head about taking my son to a flash mob last weekend (I guess I’ll post once the official video is up, it’s awesome) but something has come up that I have to get out or I might actually explode.

Like most everyone, I think I take my health for granted. Yes, I’m a big girl, but I’m pretty damn healthy. My son can be a PITA (pain in the…) but he’s healthy. My husband, my dog, my (6’8”) “baby” brother, my 66 year old dad. At times PITA, PITA, PITA, PITA, but healthy, healthy, healthy, all things considered (like 55+ years of smoking and severe arthritis in his back) healthy.

Even when it comes to my mom’s colon cancer, yes, she had it for a while, and it was bad, and the side effects are still bad. She still has trouble walking, typing, writing, all of those things we take for granted with healthy hands and feet. But the cancer is gone. There’s a good chance she WILL see my son graduate from MIT, or wherever his crazy little science brain takes him, even though he’s only in second grade now.

Tricia in Hawaii

I’m pretty sure the 1^st time I introduced you to my friend Tricia Moen, I was explaining what motivates me. And I swore to carpe every damn diem. I not only meant to at the time, but I think I’ve done an OK job. I did the 13.1 miles that weren’t even on my bucket list. I joined one of the world’s largest flash mobs and danced as if no one was watching. I’ve hugged and kissed my loved ones, and I tell my son that I love him every single day.

But walking all the way around the island where Paul Allen grew up doesn’t make cancer go away. And fleece scarves may be a comfort, but they don’t strangle out tumors. And where my mom’s cancer was able to be cut out in one surgery, Tricia has not been as lucky. She’s been undergoing a clinical trial, but it’s not working. And whereas mom’s life is still hopefully measured in decades, just this weekend she learned that her doctors are giving her months.

Even thinking about this is like a punch to the gut. She’s not even 40. Just last week she was nominated for a local news Emmy, and there’s a chance she won’t feel well enough for the ceremony in June. In general, I try not to be maudlin, but today I just can’t help it. It’s just not f-ing fair. I want to scream and shout and cry. I can only imagine what her family, or our friends who get to see her every day are going through.

I still don’t know who reads my dumb blog, but I just need to scream, even if it’s just into the internet ether.

I know life isn’t fair. I try to explain it to my son almost every day. I have another friend who just spent a week at Children’s with her son. He’s finally home, back at school, and he’ll be fine. Much like my mom's cancer, I can’t think differently than that. But for Tricia, I’m having to let my belief that you can always move forward, you can always do something to be the change you wish to see in the world… I have to let that go.

A few min ago I had to stop writing and just hug my boy, and I was sobbing so hard, he thought I was bouncing him on my lap and laughing. And once he started laughing, I couldn’t help it, I was too.

I’ve never been really into religion. I’m pretty sure that if there is a God, he cares more about how you live your life than where you hang out on Sundays. But if he’s out there, I really need to thank him.

I’ve got my health, and that of my family. I’ve got a job that pays the bills and keeps a roof over our heads. I’ve got a little boy who can turn a sob into a laugh without even knowing that I’m crying. And I’ve had a chance to know some of the best people in the whole world ever. I always said that when my Grandpa Dyer died, the world was a lesser place. It simply lost one of its best people.

That will also be true of Tricia. She’s not a martyr, sure, she screams and cries and gets pissed. But never that most people would see. Instead, she holds on to the hope and love of her family and friends. And we all love her for it. And once I get out my rage and tears, I’ll make sure I’m back in the place that focuses on giving her every bit of love and support for as long as she wants it from me.  If love could cure cancer, I know Tricia's would be long gone.

So yes, I’m lucky for my friends and family and health, but that I can have friends like Tricia who teach me to appreciate those things. That’s what makes me truly, so damn lucky.