Five years later....

Hi blog! It's been a while. Three years, actually. Lame? Anyway, as of today I am a five-year survivor. What shall I do? Some early-evening Champagne, I think, in the garden of my Sauvie Island retreat.

Its been five years of weight and blood pressure management post chemo. My teeth are more fragile due to the same (and old age.) I no longer have the ability to "reproduce." But not many women do at 48. And, hey, I'm still here. It's pretty great. 

To seek medical counsel or not to seek medical counsel..that is the etc.

You know, I haven't heard from a cancer doctor in six months. Not that I expected to necessarily - I'm just wondering if Dr Urba might want a check in soon. I suppose I could call his office. Or not. I don't think I really need to see anyone. I don't really want to see anyone.

Oy. It would be so great not to have to worry about this.

Cancer "Survivor"

I don't care for this term. Surely we'll only know if I've survived cancer once I've died of something else.

Activia, The Following Month

I think it (the Activia) worked in spite of my best efforts (stress, late nights, bad diet, liquor etc.) Thanks Jamie Lee. You can keep my money.

Activia, Day 7

Am giving Activia (with "bifidus regularis" - which is so made up, by the way) a run for its money. If my digestive system isn't regulated within 14 days, Jamie Lee Curtis has to give me my money back. So far, so....OK. I'll have a full report next Saturday (September 11.)

Tribute

My dear friend Melissa Peterson lost the fight with lung cancer a few weeks ago. It is a tragedy without equal that someone so young, so vivacious, so kind - one of the world's truly good people - should be taken away from us so soon. I am very grateful that I was able to share in parts of her life.

I first met Melissa when I moved almost literally overnight back to Portland from Seattle to manage the Portland office of Cole & Weber. The previous managing director had been taken out the back and shot (figuratively speaking) leaving an office in disarray with angry clients and disgruntled staff. Melissa's was the first and most welcoming face that I saw on my arrival. It became very clear very soon that she was loved by all and her influence was most steadying at a turbulent time. I will never forget her generosity of spirit, our shared enthusiasm for wine and her handiness with pasta.

She left C&W not that long after, and continued her life's adventure in Amsterdam and then in Seattle. We rekindled our friendship in 2008 under even more trying circumstances. At that time we'd both been diagnosed with cancer. My stage 2 invasive ductal carcinoma seemed petty and nominal compared with her stage 4, metastatic lung disease. We underwent chemotherapy at the same time and she became a huge support to me as we compared symptoms and palliative therapies via email. She even sent me some, frankly, ugly but functional hats to shield my bald head against the elements.

We reunited in person that fall at a party to celebrate the end of chemo, I think. Maybe it was just celebrating for celebrating's sake - something at which she was very good. She had no qualms about tearing off her wig when she got too hot. It took some coaxing for me to get out of my turban but after a few beverages, I "unwound" and proudly showcased the old pate not only at the party but around the streets of Seattle.

I felt bad that, with treatment over, I could have my port removed and look forward to some semblance of normalcy in life. Although it went unsaid, we both knew hers was never coming out.

I met up with her at a wedding in the fall of 2009. She looked good and danced fiercely, promising to get my "lovely" husband (her word - although he is lovely) and I up to Seattle to sail on her new boat.

Unfortunately that was never to be. Things took a turn for her early this year and after one last sailing adventure, she headed to the hospital to wrap things up, surrounded by close friends, her parents, her loving (and lovely) husband and her adorable daughter.

I shall miss her terribly.

No lung cancer. But now, maybe, bowel cancer.....

Probably not. But my primary care provider's first reaction to my complaint about some digestive issues was to order a CT scan. It is interesting that everyone's immediate concern about any pain or irregularity is that "it" may be back. I'm taking a more relaxed approach. Let's rule out the more routine causes of bowel trouble before looking for something more extreme. My bad eating habits perhaps. Or maybe stress.

And, yes, the first CT scan on my chest showed up nothing.

CT scans, by the way, are f'ing expensive.

Out Out, Damn Spot

So my mammograms were fine and my bloodwork is fine, but the chest X-ray showed a tiny spot on my right lung that Dr Lim thinks we should check out further. To that end, I have a CT scan today.

I have mixed feelings about this. In sane moments I can't believe for a minute that I can have developed a new cancer or that an old cancer could have spread given the treatment I've had over the last two years. Statistically it's very unlikely. It makes more sense that this is just a shadow on the X-ray or (per Dr. Lim) some kind of pulmonary nodule to which frequent fliers are prone. And, as my friend Amye pointed out, if everyone got checked up as often as I do, they'd probably all find mysterious lumps and bumps.

But at my lowest (typically late at night) I start mentally planning for the worst.

Stressful.

Very random observation:

My right breast can withstand 12lbs of pressure. That's a lot. The left, lumpectomied one? Not so much.

Let me get my hands on your mammary glands...

...a line, of course, from The Smith's song: Handsome Devil. And a weird one to be going through my head as I had my annual diagnostic mammograms today. Nothing much to report other than there's been no updates to Providence's absurdly small changing area since last year. But the ladies of Diagnostic Imaging were as lovely as ever. And the films showed nothing to worry about. Mind you, they showed nothing when I had a 2.1cm malignant tumor but I really can't feel anything unusual and it would be very unlucky less than two years after treatment.

And let me get your head on the conjugal bed. I say, I say, I say....

She came from Greece, she had a thirst for knowledge..

The title of this blog post is, of course, the first line from the song "Common People" by Pulp. It played over and over in my head throughout my recent two-week sojourn on the island of Rhodes. I think I was mentally rehearsing in case I had to perform Karaoke. My sister and brother-in-law (who live there) are avid fans of the "sport." Luckily for me, I managed to avoid this humiliation.

And I got through the whole two weeks without any kind of health issue (other than some wine-induced indigestion.) In fact many in our party (and there were many - we were there for a wedding) came down with a nasty cold.

Vitamin D, I tell you.

Now I'm back I have a lot of health stuff to catch up on. No one has contacted me for my annual mammogram so, as usual, I have to chase down some preventive health care. That's cool. I am, as I've always said, my own best health advocate.

Birthday

And so, it was on this day 45 years ago, that Rebecca Mary Armstrong was born in a maternity hospital in Tunbridge Wells, England.

Not much is known about Armstrong's early years. Reportedly she didn't learn to walk until she was two years old, causing her maternal grandmother, Doris, to exclaim, "There's something wrong with that child." She was, however, an early talker, able to conduct articulate and rigorous debate well before the age of two. And, anyway, why walk when you can ask people to do stuff for you.

15 years later, Mount St Helens erupted.

Random thoughts on the eve of turning 45

God, I'm tired.

Why is my husband watching a period chick flick starring Jessica Lange?

I do like Brussels sprouts.

But they're so expensive out of season.

It's annoying that my health insurance will only allow for a prescription refill every 30 days.

My dogs are funny.

How cancer saved my life.

Well, in truth, I guess its too early to say. But I haven't smoked a cigarette in two years, I've rectified my vitamin D deficiency, I'm on blood pressure medication, I make a concerted effort to eat more healthily and I pay better attention to lumps, bumps, fatigue and random pains - all as a result of a cancer diagnosis.

Maybe this will pay off in the end?

Coming Soon...

I'm being encouraged to pick this up again by recently diagnosed friends who'd like to know more about recovery from treatment as well as treatment. So, expect more insights, observations and bon mots from me soon.

Really?

I drove out to 139th and SE Stark this morning for a consultation with the endodontist that took less than a minute. My gum tissue looks fine. And that's all he wanted to see. But they'll need to see me again in six months for a check up.

I also scheduled my six-month check up with my regular dentist.

So.....looks like I now have a team of dentists. Much like my team of doctors.

Next appointment: Dr. Bader, the radiation oncologist, on December 7th.

It would be soooooo great to go a year without having to see any doctors.  But that's soooooo not possible after one turns 40 apparently

More dentistry

First, I'm embarrassed that I haven't blogged since July 19. Pathetic. Not that anyone's desperately hanging on for my next gem....but I really should be diligent for my own good.

I do have tooth news. The root canal didn't take. I bit into a delicious piece of pork crackling while in France (where they are not afraid of animal fat) and the ensuing pain led to dental surgery during which they cut into the gums above the offending tooth to do something (cauterize?) the offending nerve.

I had this done under local anesthetic - the second surgery I've had under local and I realize now that I'd always naively believed that surgeons were very gentle with their patients while operating. Not so. Once the anesthetic takes effect they stab and saw, chop and sew. Its barbaric. Well, almost.

Four days later, the swelling has gone down but I still look like the victim of domestic abuse with black eye and bruised cheek. I hope this procedure takes.

A Meaningful LIfe

"Knowing their life has meaning and that it will continue beyond them seems to lessen the white-knuckle grip on life and give them a sense of peace."

This came from something I just read in the Wall Street Journal about a series of classes Sloane Kettering offers for cancer patients. I think there might be applicable learnings for everyone. The curriculum is as follows:

• BC and AD (before cancer and after diagnosis): think about the past and what cancer has taken away. Find ways to still enjoy things.
• Historical sources of meaning: reflect on family, the era in which you grew up and even the meaning of your name. Remember the times you have been brave.
• Encountering life's limitations: you can still choose your attitude. Discussion question: what would be a meaningful death?
• What could live on beyond yourself?
• Resolve issues from the past.
• Transcend the limits imposed by cancer. Make life meaningful even if you're just lying in bed.
• Experience life: list the things you love or find beautiful.
• Work on a "legacy" project: write a book; create a piece of art; pass down a family recipe; "be the courageous person people think I am."

Recommended reading:
Frankl - Man's search for meaning
Death of Ivan Ilyich - in which he becomes the person he wants to be in the last five minutes of life.

And now, my teeth.

I'm thinking that broadening the subject matter of this blog might serve it/me well. So instead of reflecting only on cancer treatment, it'll now include observations on other physical failings. As I've noted elsewhere, once one turns 40 the wheels really do fall off.

This week: my teeth. I had a root canal. Two weeks ago, my dentist asked how things are going and after confirming that everything was fine, I made an off-hand remark about occasional sensitivity to cold in the tooth behind my canine tooth on the upper-right side. Cut to last Friday, and I'm Novocained up to the eyeballs (well, almost - I lost sensitivity in my nose) at the endodontist. I was referred there after they discovered that the root in this tooth is shaped like an "S" as opposed to the more conventional/desirable "I." Tricky.

Side note: during the procedure, the endodontist discussed the UofO football team, the Seattle Mariners and the fact that he'd just found his cell phone after ordering two alternates from Verizon - he was most anxious for his staff NOT to sign for delivery of the new phones. I think he's a good dentist - just very chatty....

But I survived my first root canal relatively unscathed, although the Novocaine hangover is still with me. Now all that remains is for me to go back to my dentist to get the temporary filling made permanent. Pity, then, that his office is closed for a week. I'll have to get used to chewing everything on the left side of my mouth for a while.

Diversions - Encore Une Fois

Just got back from Evoe. As you may recall, its had a few mentions in this blog throughout the year. It still ranks as my most favorite eating experience of all time. Yes, even in front of the brunch at Beast.

My friend Heather and I enjoyed a magnificent chevre over arugula, a warm pea salad kinda thing on brioche (peas on toast) and some delicious scallops with a lemony vegetable thing which I can't put a name to, but was bloody good. Then we had a cheese plate. Clearly, I am a terrible restaurant critic, but you should surely try this place based on the knowledge that I am quite a picky eater.

I have only one health update: I am, apparently, very deficient in vitamin D. My ob-gyn is insisting I take 4000 IU per day (which is, like, 1000% of what one needs according to those that count these things.) Current thinking is that vitamin D deficiency is a contributing factor to breast cancer (really?) and (more likely to my mind) a factor in risk for osteoporosis - something I have to look out for now I'm in early menopause. So I'm vitamin D-ing it up. If I remain 5' 8" well into my 80s we'll know its worked :)