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.