Thunderation News
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EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT! IF YOU'VE GOT NEWS, THEN WE'RE GONNA SHOUT IT! OR POST IT, ANYWAY... This is our new Thunderation page, based on our old Las Plumas High School newspaper. It's for your articles, announcements, stories, poems, etc. that are too long for the Message Forum page or that otherwise need a special location of their own. If you have something you'd like to share with your classmates, click on Post Announcement under Member Functions on the left menu. Submit your message, and once it's approved, it will appear on this page. Soul Food Doll Raises Funds for Cancer By Mary Young Kabrin Molly Williams of Chico was the founder of a women's retreat group that began to meet twice each year to spend quality girl- time together. There was and is no religious, political or business purpose for this gathering. This was simply a spin-off from the PG&E's boy-time retreat that had been going on for years, because when women became more active in management, PG&E felt obligated to provide the same leave to their woman executives. Because Molly was the only woman executive in PG&E at the time, she had to reach out into the community for other woman to join her on the first retreat. She found one, who found another, and so on until we became a PG&E sponsored retreat group of women. PG&E pulled out their sponsorship after about 5 years and we have continued together on our own ever since. 
As a friend of cancer victims I can only say that it is a helpless feeling when you cannot prevent something tragic from happening or causing pain in the life of someone you love. In loving memory of our friend, Molly Williams. Response by Retha Newton HubbardWhat a wonderful idea. Many of my best friends have battled breast cancer as well as other types. I have bought cute sittting, stuffed bears, bling them up with a boas, hats and jewelry and attach a little container to theirs paws - for the "soul food cards." I love that name and hadn't thought of it, but that's just what they are! I have also put miniature heart stickers on the cards. Of course the idea was to help them get through the horrors of treatment, but I love the idea of pulling them out whenever one is feeling blue!
My Cancer Story By Susan Holcomb Schade Our classmate Sue Holcomb Schade has written a touchingly frank and revealing account of her breast cancer experience. She said it is meant to make you laugh a little and cry a little and it does both. It is long and may take several sittings to complete, so It can be found at the bottom of this page below the other entries. She must be correct when she says that no one can understand what it is like until you have been through it. This story goes a long way toward helping us understand one person's feelings as she fought her battle. By Jack Myers
Hi everyone.
I was watching TV the other night. I think it was msnbc. They stated that you could look for money in your name from various states. I do not believe this is a scam. The web site is There are several states that do not submit info to this site.
I would love to see someone find that there is money for them that they know nothing about! From what I understand, we are talking about billions of dollars that have not been claimed. Good luck! I will be looking. I hope it helps you. The Mother Orange Tree... By Mike Krause The story of the Mother Orange tree is intertwined In 1856, while on a visit to Sacramento, Judge Lewis The tree flourished at this site for several years and tiny
seedlings, planted in pots at miner’s shacks began to dot the landscape throughout the canyon. In 1862, Bridge Tender Issac Ketchum moved the tree to higher ground at the opposite end of the bridge to avoid rising flood waters. It remained at this location for over one hundred years, producing an estimated 600 pounds of fruit each year from February through May. In 1964, it was once again moved in advance of the filling of Lake Oroville. In the early 1900’s vandals placed hay against the trunk
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 .jpg) Jim Barry's band, Northern Heat, played March 20, in Oroville, at Harley's. A good number of former LP grads showed up to enjoy their great music, including Mike McLogan, Dave Durnell, John Howard, Jim Bundy, and Danny and Theresa Moench. They said they enjoyed a mini-reunion and spent the evening visiting, drinking and dancing. The following morning was spent recuperating with no regrets!  Bidwell Bar by Mike Krause Bidwell Bar brings back many memories for me as a kid. In the summer I spent many weekdays and weekends at this spot with family and friends. We would often spend the entire day there and if it were a weekday, our Dad would meet us after work and we would barbecue in the picnic area into the night. Swimming in the cold water out to the sandbar still remains fresh in my mind. Bidwell Bar was my first introduction to park rangers and as time went on, we came to know many of them by their first names. I was very impressed by their knowledge and manner and that early exposure is what probably led to my pursuit of an education and career as a park ranger many years later. On July 4, 1848 John Bidwell discovered gold on the middle fork of the Feather River in an area that would later be known as Bidwell's Bar. Shortly thereafter, the town (by the same name), sprang up. One of the difficulties of this area was getting supplies across the river, so by 1856, the Bidwell Bar Suspension Bridge was completed. Most of the money to construct the bridge was provided by Judge Joseph Lewis, who moved to Bidwell's Bar in 1849. The bridge cost $35,000 dollars and the materials used to construct the bridge were shipped via Cape Horn from Troy, New York. This bridge was the FIRST suspension bridge West of the Mississippi river. The bridge was 372 feet long, spanned 130 feet of riverbed and the bottom of the bridge was 29 feet above the river surface. The land comprising the immediate area was donated to the State in 1947 by T.E. Curry and became know as the Curry-Bidwell Bar State Park. The bridge remained open to traffic until 1954 and I have faint memories of driving over the bridge. In 1966, the bridge was removed and eventually relocated to Wyck Island (named after the legendary Ranger, Wyck Wiederhoft). Today, you can still walk across the Bridge, which is located just north of the Bidwell Canyon Boat Ramp parking lot. As for the original park . . the buildings were left mostly intact and lie some 700 feet below the waters of Lake Oroville. Now, what are YOUR memories of Bidwell's Bar? Comments Gene Rogers: As a kid I remember watching the older guys (high school age) skimming across the water on big sacks made from bedsheets. They'd wet them, spin to fill them with air, then run down the beach and lay on them and skim halfway across the river on a good run. Laurie Braaten: Yeah, I remember the sheet sacks at Bidwell Bar. Us kids watched enviously as others did it, but we knew our parents wouldn't buy sheets for such frivolity. Denise Tisseyre Miller: We spent a lot of time at Bidwell Bar swimming in the frigid water. It was almost as cold as the ocean in Maine. But when it was 100 degrees it didn't matter how cold the water was. I remember watching others do the thing with the sheets. It did look hard. John Wagener (Wag) Like your family, Bidwell Bar was one of the major fun days we anticipated, and we would go perhaps 1-2 times per month for the day. Dad would usually join us if it were a week day. I went often enough to get pretty good at skimmining sheets (there was a name for them) and could get about 3/4 of the way across the river. I loved the cliffs also, jumping off the high ones. We also would have our mask and fins for underwater viewing of schools of fish. Glenda Taylor McOsker: I remember going to Bidwell Bar with Ezra and Pam Johnson. We would walk up the river and float down. It was a great place. Lots of fun, great memories. Steve Jeffries: Bidwell Bar...OMG!!! Felt like I grew up there! So many summers...long way to the river barefooted over the hot sand. Did a lot of Scuba diving there too. Thank you for waking such wonderful memories of such a magical place! Janis King: Wow, Bidwell Bar..... my family moved from Los Angeles to Berry Creek in 1956. My grandparents already lived in BC so had many friends. During summer the whole family would go to Bidwell Bar every Thursday afternoon/ evening for a swim outing and pot luck dinner with lots of friends.... does anyone else remember doing anything like that? It was fun. I remember walking across that bridge with my grandfather eating fresh figs from all those great trees. Wonderful memories. We spent a lot of time there. I think my grandfather also got some river rock there? Was there gold panning too? Kathy Jay Turner: I remember Bidwell Bar, going there with Steve (Turner), my sister Bev (Jay), and Doug and Leonard Taylor. We would stay all day, floating on tubes, having picnics and loving having fun together. A lot of laughing and ending up at Arts Gay 90's for pizza. I too tried the skimmers but, I never did get the hang of it. Dugan McIntosh tried it and he was more successful. Did you ever go upstream to the Cliffs and jump off of them? Quite a thrill! Yes, I remember the rattlesnakes. As the lake was filling, we would hike down to it and fish along the shoreline. I cannot tell you how many rattlesnakes we ran into but, from that time on, when hiking off-trail, I always stare at the ground about 5 feet in front of me in anticipation of rattelsnakes AND that habit saved me several times. We also fished just downstream from Bidwell Bar for Smallmouth Bass. Traditionally, we would always fish this stretch on Memorial Day and I can still taste those fish . . . yummy! Beautiful, hard-fighting fish. We also fished the river for quite a stretch further downstream and saw some beautiful Steelhead. Salmon migrated all the up to and beyond Bidwell Bar. It was a special place indeed. Janice Youngblood Silva: Bidwell Bar-the most magical place in my memories! I remember Mom packing up food galore, we'd all jump into the car and practically spend the whole weekend there. We usually went with Chris Passmore and his family. His parents and mine did everything together, so he was like my brother in crime. Dad would have the BBQ going, we'd have hamburgers or hot dogs and then-the worst punishment ever. Chris and I would have to sit by the edge of the water until one hour after we ate before getting in the water again. During that hour, we dug holes and covered ourselves with sand, or just plain ran our feet off. I remember the first time I swam the full length across-I was so proud. Right before they covered Bidwell Bar up with water, the ranger let my Dad take one of the old BBQ pits and a picnic table home. We had many BBQ's at home, but alas, without the wonderful atmosphere of Bidwell Bar. Even though Mom and Dad sold their home 2 yrs ago, the BBQ pit is still there.
Posted by Cassandra (Sandy) Scott (Lotz)
My husband and I joined a vacation club that sells unbooked space at their resorts at a very reduced price for an entire week and we can tranfer it to anyone we choose. You simply log onto their website www.VNIVacations.com,, choose "overstock" to see which resorts are availabe, then contact me at sandylotz57@cox.net to book it for you. Browns Junction Poem by Ramona Jones
In the Sierra Nevada foothills six miles from where I grew up Two roads now unceremoniously cross at a four-way stop. Among the crumbling, dilapidated homesteads, an empty lot. Its home burned to the ground years ago. A spindly lone tall pine still stands in the back yard. Gone, a hedge of roses that once magnificently climbed an arbor, To fragrantly welcome you through the front gate. This was the Young's house almost at the corner, There lived Mary, my best friend. Whose crooked teeth boasted a warm radiant smile, Unruly, curly bright red hair half way down her back, freckles everywhere Second oldest child in a household of eight. Dad deputy sheriff, a robust man whose eyes glimmered with mischief Mom, petite only in stature, the real boss everyone listened to. Upstairs dorm style for all the kids, curtains drawn their only privacy. Strict rules, friends forbidden upstairs the same time as opposite sex. Stairs so rickety I was afraid my small frame would fall through. That squeaked and creaked so loud it was impossible to sneak up. Teen club at the Grange a short stroll away. Bring your 60's records, dance with the boys, especially John. Mary's older brother, mine too it seemed. Close slow dances, as if your feet never touched the ground. Fast dances, the stroll, the jerk, twist, locomotion to name a few Just us girls would do.
My Cancer Story By Susan Holcomb Schade
My nightmare started on Sunday night Nov. 18, 1995. I was sitting downstairs watching TV, skipping the evening service at church, when I felt a pain (no, not a guilt pang from skipping the evening service). I was laughing about something on Funniest Home Videos at the time and I didn't think laughing should hurt, but it did. During the next few days it hurt all the time, not just when I was laughing. Not a sharp pain, but a dull ache. Just the night before, the church had given us a surprise twenty-fifth anniversary party. We weren't even planning on going to the "adult fellowship" because our grown kids were here for a short weekend, about twenty- four hours, but we were talked into it anyway. Henry wasn't in the best of moods, because he doesn't like to be talked into things. I must admit I don't like surprises myself, unless it's for someone else, of course, but we ended up having a really good time. I hadn't laughed that much in a long time. Jeremy was invited to join us even though he was only eleven at the time, and far from an adult. We found out later that the surprise party was the only reason our grown kids were here for the weekend.
Then Sunday night I was relaxing, thinking about how nice the weekend had been. It was a good weekend, until I felt the lump. I told myself that it couldn't be all that bad, after all, I had just had a complete exam at the doctors office two months before, and there was nothing there. Sure I've read that one in 58 women will get breast cancer by the age of 40. That number goes up to one in 28 by the age of 50. But it couldn't be happening to me. It only happens to other people. People I don't know. I found out later that I was the fourth woman in our church that had gone through this.
Normally I would have waited before going to the doctor, hoping the pain and the lump would somehow go away on it's own, but I needed to see the doctor for a couple of other things anyway. She examined me and said it was probably nothing to worry about. Probably just a cyst, because it came up so fast and it hurt. Probably. I was set up for an ultra sound, and possibly a mammogram a few days later. When I went for the ultra sound I was told I would have to wait for the mammogram, because they were booked solid. But after the doctor looked at the ultra sound there was suddenly time to give me a mammogram - right away. I started wondering if it was worse than expected. After they were done doing the tests they told me to call my doctor the next morning to get the results. That would be Friday.
My doctor called me before she opened her office Friday morning. That kind of had me on edge. She told me that it looked too solid to be a cyst, and the surgeon wanted to see me in the emergency room Saturday morning at 11:00. I wasn't kind of on edge anymore. I was scared. Henry was out of town, but he called to see how the tests went. When I told him, he came home right away to take me to see the surgeon. The surgeon had thought about taking a needle biopsy, but after he examined me, he decided to schedule a "cut me open" biopsy instead, the following Monday. Only two days away.
Over the weekend I talked to a few women and it seemed like all of them had had a biopsy of a cyst or lump. I got the impression from almost all of them that it was no big deal. It's a very common thing. Maybe it was no big deal for them, but it was a very big deal for me. I had never been in an operating room before, and I wasn't looking forward to it. Dealing with the unknown sometimes is a bigger deal to me than it should be, I know, but I think it must be a big deal a lot of women who have never had anything like this before. Maybe they didn't want to scare me anymore than I was already was. I don't know. I hope I never tell anyone it's no big deal. If I do, I hope someone slaps me. HARD!
The staff at the hospital were very good to me. First they sent me to get a blood sugar reading done, because I'm a diabetic. Then they took me up to the waiting room. I don't like waiting, but it was a waiting room, so I knew I'd have to wait. Then a nurse took me to a room where she asked me all kinds of medical and non-medical questions. I got to wear hospital pants, socks, gown, robe, and hair net. I was lookin' good. Then I had to go back to the waiting room - and wait. After a while I was taken to another waiting room, a smaller one, closer to the operating room. A nurse came in and asked me how I was. I bet she could answer that one all by herself. How was I suppose to be? Some guy I had just met two days ago was about to cut me open and take a piece out of my body. It shouldn't take a real smart person to know how I was. Then someone else came in and told me what his job is. He's the anesthetist. He had the power to knock me out, or just give me a local. My only thought was he could have cleaned his nose better, or sat down beside me so I wouldn't be looking up into his nose while he talked. It was really distracting. Before long I was taken into the operating room. I got the oxygen tube in my nose, was hooked up to an IV, and a blood pressure cuff. Then a thing that monitors oxygen in the blood was put on my finger, and a few patches on my torso. I don't have a clue what the patches were for. I did ask, but I don't remember the answer, or the answer didn't make any sense. There wasn't much that was making sense anymore. Then I was told I was getting something to make me sleepy. I guess I went to sleep, because I woke up a couple of times and there was a green sheet over my face. I thought they were suppose to wait until you were dead before they put the sheet over your face. I wasn't dead. I wasn't fully awake or fully asleep either. I could feel someone doing things to me. At one point it felt like they were ripping something out of a very tender part of my body. I bet any part of the body is tender after it's cut open. Did I mention they strapped me down? Both arms and both legs were strapped down. I know, 'cause I tried to move and couldn't. Someone asked if I felt anything. "Yes, it hurts." They immediately sent me back to la-la land. The pain was real, and this was only a biopsy. The next thing I remembered was trying to wake up in the recovery room. They had taken a piece of the lump and told me I would have to wait a week or two to get the results. I'm not usually very good about waiting for things, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I just tried to stay calm and wait. It hurt to use my arm. It hurt when I wasn't using my arm. It hurt when I was lying down. It hurt when I stood. It just plain hurt. The painkillers the doctor wanted me to take upset my stomach. I know there were a lot of people praying for me and I know that's what saved my sanity, but then again there's a lot of people who would question if I ever was sane, even on my best days. Believe me, this wasn't one of my best days. The bad pain didn't last long and by Wednesday there wasn't much pain at all, from the lump or the surgery. After constant pain for a little over a week it felt good. Maybe it would turn out to be nothing. I felt at ease, peaceful for a couple of days.
Friday morning the surgeon phoned. The results were in. It only took four days. The sigh of relief came all too soon. "Could you meet me in emergency in an hour and a half to discuss what to do next?" What did he mean, "What to do next"? My mind was racing. One and an half hours to wait - to discuss "what to do next." It didn't sound like taking out the stitches was what he had in mind. Now I was really, really scared. It was definitely one of the longest hour and a halfs that I have ever lived through. It was lunchtime, but I couldn't I eat. I felt sick.
Henry went with me again. I couldn't sit still. Why was the doctor taking so long to come? He was only a minute or two late. A really long minute or two. He had the results in his hands, and he wasn't smiling. He said there were cancer cells in the sample. Then we talked about my options. He said he could just take out the tumor and some of the surrounding tissue, but because of where the tumor was and the size of the breast, it would look severely deformed. He recommended removing the whole breast. (Like that wouldn't make me feel and look deformed.) He said he wanted to do a modified radical mastectomy on Monday morning. Only three days away! I wanted somebody to slap me and wake me up. This had to be a nightmare. This kind of thing only happens to other people. Not me, not even anyone close to me. He could have told me he wanted to cut off something else too, and at that point I probably would have let him. I was in a fog and wanted out, but after all, he's the doctor, and he knows what's best. Right? I was sure hoping he knew what was best. I was in such a daze I didn't know my own name. Somehow I managed to sign the form allowing the mastectomy. Then I felt really sick. I cried. They took more blood and x-rays. Then asked the same questions I answered last week. I honestly don't remember all what happened that day. I signed another form. I don't to this day know what it was for. They probably told me, but......? At this point I was hoping I wasn't signing away any more body parts. Then I went home and cried some more. The doctor said he was going to take some of the lymph nodes from under the arm too, just to make sure the cancer hadn't spread. I wanted him to take the cotton out of my head at the same time. I couldn't think. This had to be a bad dream. It couldn't really be happening. That day felt like it was three weeks long. I went for long walks, visited friends, and tried to clear my head. I didn't sleep the night before, (I can't imagine why not), so by four in the afternoon it felt like midnight. Just when I thought I was done crying I'd start all over again. I don't think anyone who's never had cancer knows what it's like. Even if you know someone who's been there, done that, it's not the same until the doctor says, "You have cancer." Or maybe I’m just a big baby. For me it was the uncertainty, not knowing what's going to happen next.
Jeremy had spent Friday and Saturday nights with his grandparents, so I didn't tell him what was happening until Sunday morning. I wanted to wait to tell him until I could do it without showing him just how scared I really was. But at the same time, I felt I had to tell him before church because I didn't want him hearing it from someone else. My incision from the biopsy was healing up nice, but itchy. The bruising was yellow. I was wondering what colors I would be sporting in a week. I wondered how our friends were going to look at me. I heard from someone that had this thing done before that often guy's eyes would drop from her eyes to her chest. Men are so subtle. Not that they would see the incision, or anything else under my shirt for that matter. Will people avoid me? I know it shouldn't matter, but it did. I know life goes on, and in time it won't matter what they think. How will Henry look at me? He was really nice to me during this trying time. I wondered how long that would last too. I like being treated that way. I just wished it could be for different reasons.
I didn't go to church that week because I wasn't ready to face anyone. I was tired of crying. We were out of the house most of the day Sunday, and I did pretty good most of the day, not too many tears. How many is "too many" anyway?
My arrival time was scheduled for 9:45. Arrival time? Did they think I was flying in? Because I'm a diabetic, I was told to have a piece of toast and a cup of tea for breakfast, and take half my usual insulin, all before 7 a.m. Not only did they want to take one of my body parts, they wanted me to have breakfast an hour before I usually get up!
I think the most hated question the past few days was "How are you doing Sue?" How was I suppose to be? Gee, I'm really looking forward to Monday morning. I just can't wait for somebody to cut me open and take a piece away. Hey, who needs it anyway? I have another one. God gave me a matching pair and now the doctor wants to break up the set. I'd be lopsided for the rest of my life. I've had better weekends. Twenty plus hours of labor in the delivery room was a breeze compared to this. But that was a lot of years ago, and I've probably forgotten how bad it really was. 1995 wasn't a very good year for me anyway. Low iron, blood sugars going crazy, stress, hot flushes, chills, night sweats, iron shots in the backside all summer. I thought I was loosing my mind then. Now this! Don't get me wrong, there were some good things that happened that year too. There was a surprise birthday party the ladies of the church gave me. There was the wonderful surprise 25th anniversary party the church gave us. I wonder if two big surprises in one year was too much for me. Nah, I don’t really think so.
Monday I had my toast and tea before I was even awake. It was hard to swallow, but I did. Because I had to. The next thing I would get to eat was going to be hospital food. I felt almost peaceful, no, not because of the thought of enjoying the great hospital food. Then about an hour before arrival time I found myself pacing. What if someone had made a mistake? What if I didn't have cancer after all? I don't feel sick. This has to be a mistake, a nightmare. The longest nightmare of my life. The worse nightmare of my life. Deep breathing helped. So did the prayers of many people.
Finally it was time to go to the hospital. I just wanted it to be all over with. I was hoping there wouldn't be a long wait once we were at the hospital. Have I mentioned I don't like waiting? My doctor was waiting for us when we got there, so after we got checked in she took us upstairs. We sat in the waiting room and talked. She was also a pastor's wife. She prayed with us, for us, for the surgeon, and for everything to go well. Then she left to go to her office. That was when I knew for sure I had the right doctor. The surgery was scheduled for 10:45, but they were running late. That early in the morning and they were already running late! Surprise! Surprise! Just like a Doctor, eh? (For you Americans, "eh" is Canadian for 'huh'.)
Soon a nurse came in and took me to another room to ask some questions. I was in the same room with the same nurse just last week, answering the same questions. Don't they keep notes? Did they think I would have different answers this time? I live in the same house, with the same husband and same phone number. I have the same doctor. I take the same medicines. I'm still allergic to the same things. Yes, I had a shower this morning. The big difference was that the nurse was crying more than I was that day. That was weird. She asked how I could stay so calm, knowing what I was there for. "Lots of people are praying for me", was the only answer I could give. By myself I couldn't be calm at all. I would have been a basket case by then. I was in hospital pajamas again. Lookin' good, of course, but cold. The nurse gave me a heated blanket, and offered me a tranquilizer. I didn't want the medication, just the blanket. It felt good. I picked up a magazine, but I couldn't read it. Everything was a blur, so I tossed it back on the table. Deep breathing helped, again. I tried to curl up on the chair. I needed sleep, and I knew I would get some soon, so it didn't matter that I couldn't sleep on the chair. It wasn't long before an older gentleman that goes to our church came in, so we chatted. He was scheduled for surgery right after me. It took my mind off my own problems for a few minutes while he talked about his upcoming bowel surgery.
A little after 11 a.m. we were moved to another waiting room, Henry got to come with me this time. All those waiting rooms, and I don't like waiting. Did I mention that already? At least we were getting closer to the operating room. They gave me another heated blanket. The same anesthetist came in to tell us what he was going to do. We already knew what he was going to do, but I guess it made him feel better telling us, again. Now there's a guy that can put a person to sleep faster than any preacher I know! His nose was cleaner that day too. Our neighbor was on duty in the operating room. She was the nurse assisting the surgeon. It was good to see a familiar face. She took me to the operating room and had me hop up on the table. We talked for a few minutes, just like we did before the biopsy. I learned she's a month older than I am. Not that it matters any. I got an IV in my hand to replace the fluids I would loose during surgery. Then they took my pajama bottoms, and my underpants. I was thinking to myself "Wait a minute, I'm here for breast surgery, nothing below the waist. I'd feel better if they gave them back." I was hoping they knew which end they were suppose to operate on.
That's all I remember until I was trying to wake up in the recovery room. Henry was there, and a nurse who was calling my name, and telling me it was time to wake up. My eyes had different ideas. I couldn't make them stay open. I was in pain. I was shivering and shaking. The nurse gave me another heated blanket. I hurt something awful. I wasn't feeling sick or in any pain when I went into the hospital, and it didn't seem right to have this incredible pain now. I thought last weeks surgery was painful. Did I mention I don't like pain? I could feel a bandage across my body. There was a drain hanging from under the incision. I was hooked up to an IV that was hooked up to a machine that would shoot morphine straight into my hand. The button was strapped to my hand, so I could control it myself. It had been set so I couldn't give myself an overdose. It hurt so much, I was beginning to think I should have taken my chances with the cancer. Surely dying would be less painful. Maybe I am a baby, but it really hurt. They pressed the morphine button for me a couple of times, and reminded me again that I couldn't overdose myself.
After I emptied what little was in my stomach I remember being wheeled into another room. The room I would call home for a few days. As few days as possible, if I had any say in it. Henry and Jeremy were there. So was a lady from the church. Company now? I know she meant well, but I wasn't ready for company. I didn't even have my underwear on, let alone some decent clothes, and combed hair. I'm glad she only stayed long enough to say "hi". I would have been upset if Henry and Jeremy weren't there, but they didn't stay long either. I guess watching me sleep wasn't exciting enough. I just couldn't force my eyeballs to stay open.
When I finally managed to get my eyes to stay open I noticed there were flowers in my corner of the room. Henry and Jeremy came back after a while, and I reminded Jeremy that I was too mean to die. He smiled. They didn't stay long that time either. Before long it was time for supper. Liquid supper. All I had eaten so far that day was toast and tea. Now supper was milk, jell-o and ice cream. I got sick after two bites. I didn't feel like eating anyway. All I wanted to do was sleep. The nurses kept reminding me that I could use the button anytime I needed it for pain. They were monitoring how much I was using and I guess I wasn't using near what I could have. I pushed it a few times, but it didn't seem to do much for the pain. The bed was awful. It hurt to lay still. It hurt to move. I kept thinking that things could only get better. They had to get better. When I had to go to the washroom I rang for a nurse. Not only because I couldn't get the rail on my bed down, but because I couldn't even sit up by myself. "You haven't been to the bathroom all day. Are you all right?" Good thing she's not a brain surgeon. If I was okay, would I be in a hospital bed with an IV in my hand and a bandage across my chest? Think about it. Would I be looking forward to breakfast, in the hospital, hoping I could keep it down? I don't think so.
My bed was across the room from the bathroom, and the light was on all night. The nurses kept checking on us with flashlights during the night, and kept closing the door most of the way, but the lady across from me got up at least six times during the night, and didn't bother closing the door. I don't know why they didn't just leave all the lights on all night long. I guess since I slept most of the day it shouldn't have bothered me that I didn't get much sleep that night, but it did. Then the nurses woke us up an hour before breakfast so they could take our temperatures and blood pressures. Just when I finally got to sleep! I was given a needle in the backside to settle my stomach before breakfast and was reminded I could use the morphine if I wanted to. I still wasn't using very much of it, because I didn't think it was helping with the pain, just making me feel weird. I only took it when the pain was really bad. After one bite of lunch I needed another shot, or a bucket. I knew hospital food was bad, but this was ridicules. The nurse that came in with the needle that time said it was probably the morphine making me sick. Apparently a few people do get sick with it. She unhooked me from the IV but left the needle in my hand. "Why?" "Just in case you need it later." I thought that if it was making me sick now, it would make me sick later too. She offered me another painkiller, in the backside, but I declined. Maybe I was getting used to the pain, or it wasn't as bad as before, I don't know.
Lots of flowers came to my corner of the room during the day. It was great! Like having my own little flower shop. I had a few visitors, but I was still so dopey I couldn't think straight. My stomach was much better though. It seemed I was constantly being offered painkillers during the day, but I didn't think I needed them. I hate taking medicine if I don't really need it, and it didn't seem to be killing the pain anyway. It was more of a joke than anything by then. I slept a little better the second night. I was even able to move a little without help, even got out of bed by myself without too awfully much pain. Changed gowns, brushed my teeth and combed my hair. The nurse was surprised I didn't ask for help.
The surgeon came in Wednesday morning and took the bandage off. I didn't realize until then just how big the incision was. It ran from the middle of my chest to under my arm. It was held together by metal clips. Just the sight of it made me feel sick. Really sick. I finally got the needle out of my hand. One small step in the direction to freedom. I was freed of the IV tubes, needle, and the bandage. If I didn't look at the incision I was fine. I couldn't believe how ugly it was. The doctor told me I could probably go home the next day, if I wanted to. Of course I wanted to! My own bed, real food, no one shining a flashlight on me in the middle of the night. Who wouldn't want to?
More visitors came by. More flowers were delivered. The nurses kept offering me drugs, in the backside. No thanks! The day seemed to last forever. I cried myself to sleep. I I was just feeling sorry for myself, I know I also knew I should have left it all with the Lord, but I was having a hard time dealing with things. That night was a long one too. The lady next to me moaned and groaned all night long. Thursday finally came and Henry brought me some real coffee for breakfast, and took a few of the flowers home. The doctor came in right after breakfast and looked at his work again. He said it looked good. I thought about offering to buy him some new glasses. We clearly had different opinions on how it looked. I wouldn't want to see anything he thought looked bad. He told me I could go home if I wanted, or stay another few days. The decision was mine to make. I had already made it the day before. I was more than ready to go home. It was arranged for a home care nurse to come to the house every day until I got the clips out. She would change the dressing around the drain holes, and empty the drain. I called Henry to come and get me, and was home by ten-thirty. It felt really good to be home.
I phoned my mother to let her know where I was, and tried to sleep. The doorbell rang, and since Henry was at the office I got up and answered it. I tried to get some sleep a couple of other times during the day, but each time someone would ring the doorbell. Oh well, I couldn't sleep anyway. I was a little excited to be home knowing the worse was over. The worst, meaning the operation and the hospital stay. Every time I thought about my new look I cried. I was sure hoping I had done the right thing.
Friday morning Henry went to the office as usual, came home for lunch in front of the TV, and went to Nanaimo for the afternoon, getting back just in time to take Jeremy swimming. I knew it must be hard for them too, but I wasn't exactly having a picnic. I felt like I needed some support, and not to be abandoned. When they got home from swimming I went to bed and cried myself to sleep - again. I was thinking this might just be too much for us to handle as a couple. Saturday morning Henry put his arm around me before he got up and left it there for quite a while. It felt good - really good. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. That night I went downstairs to watch TV with Henry, and he had a show on that had young girls in bikinis. That did it for me. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep - again. It seemed like I was doing more crying than anything else.
Sunday I didn't go to church. I still had the drain hanging on my side and I really wasn't ready to face anyone yet.
Monday I was really tired. Probably from all that crying.
Tuesday it was time to see the surgeon again. He had the results from the tissue taken during surgery. My appointment was in the late afternoon, so while we waited, some people came by for a visit. It took my mind off things for a few minutes. Finally it was time to go and all I could think of was - "What if the cancer spread to the lymph nodes? What if it was found in the surrounding tissue? What if I didn't really have cancer and they made a big mistake?" I had to force myself not to think, 'what if'. It was really hard to sit still. Finally we were in the doctor's little room, the one where you still have to wait, but you know you're next and the wait won't be long. The surgeon came in and told us, "It looks good. The cancer hasn't spread to any of the surrounding tissue or the lymph nodes." Finally we could breath a sigh of relief. Then he said, "The cancer doctors will probably recommend chemotherapy and, or radiation, just to make sure though. That's usually what they recommend for women who haven't gone through menopause." It was up to me to think about it. They wouldn't force anything on me. Then it was time to get some of the staples and drain out. He gave that job to his nurse and went to see another patient. The staples came out easy enough, but she left half of them for then time being. The drain was another story. She said "Take a deep breath...... Now let it out slowly." While I let it out slowly she ripped the tube out of my body. It was under the skin, my skin, five or six inches, and it didn't want to come out. It felt like she was ripping my insides out. Boy, did that hurt. At least it was out. It wasn't all that comfortable carrying the thing around with the constant pulling on my skin. After the pain subsided it was a relief not to have it dragging on me. Up until this whole ordeal I had felt like I could handle pain. Maybe I was just learning what pain really is.
Wednesday I went in for more blood tests. I was surprised I still had blood left to test. The doctor told me then "Don't do anything. Let others take care of you for a few more days." I felt a little useless, but I tried not to complain. I kind of liked being waited on. I was starting to feel a little better about losing my breast. It wasn't really "lost" anyway, it was somewhere in a lab in Nanaimo. I wonder how long they keep those things. I kept thinking about poor old Job. Look at all the problems he had, and he lived a good life. God allows things for a reason and maybe someday I'll know what that reason is. I know a lot of people have been praying for me through all this, and I know, without a doubt, it helped a great deal.
Thursday I got the rest of the clamps out of my body. Boy did that feel good. No more pulling. Everything went so fast, even though it didn't seem like it at the time. November 18th I felt the lump and December 4th I had the mastectomy. It only took two weeks! Then Dec. 15 all the clamps were out. It's better than sitting around for weeks or even months waiting, thinking about it, like many women do. The day after I got the remaining clamps out we went to the cancer clinic in Victoria. I was weighed in and examined. Did it ever feel weird to have Henry in the room while the doctor gave me a breast exam. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. OK, maybe I have a weird sense of humor. The exam didn't take long, after all, there was only one to examine. We talked about cancer and related things. We talked about chemotherapy too, but the doctor wanted to wait for more information from the lab before he would say one way or another whether he would recommend it for me. I sure was hoping he would say it wasn't necessary.
A couple of days after Christmas we went to California for a two-week vacation, it was our twenty-fifth anniversary. What a way to celebrate twenty-five years together! All of my doctors thought we should go ahead and go, it would do me, us, good. They were right. We had a really good time. I always like being with my relatives. I was even able to hit golf balls without pain. When I had asked the doctor about golfing he said "You probably could, but I wouldn't recommend it." He had told me, on my last visit, I could do whatever I normally do. I was hoping he didn't mean housework. Golf, yes. Housework, no. I was feeling better every day, but the two weeks in California went by all too quickly.
When we got home there was a message on our answering machine that I had an appointment in Victoria on January 15th, with the cancer doctor - followed by chemotherapy. Wait a minute! What if I don't want it? Do I still get a choice? Before we went on vacation he had told us that it looked like I had a 75 percent chance of non-reoccurrence. He also told us that if I decided to go through with further treatment I could choose a three-month plan or a six-month plan, if I needed chemotherapy at all. The six-month plan would be half doses and there would be a fifty-fifty chance of keeping my hair. With the three-month plan there was only a very slim chance, if any, that I would keep my hair, and I would probably be sicker. I have to admit I don't like my hair all that much a lot of the time, but I do like having it up there. At the same time I thought it would be better just to get the treatments over with as quick as possible. I still had the choice to say, "No thanks, I'll take my chances." But then I might spend the rest of my life wondering if I had made the right choice. What if there were more cancer cells lurking somewhere in my body waiting to attack?
The test results were good, but he was still recommending chemotherapy, and said the board at the clinic was recommending radiation too. Chemotherapy was just a precaution, just to be sure. Maybe it was already all gone. At the same time, there's only a thirty percent chance chemotherapy will destroy any or all cancer cells I might have left, if I had any left. Thirty percent chance! That's it. Yes, I cried again. None of this is making a lot of sense. I felt that if I didn't go through with it I would always be wondering if I made the right choice. I thought I had to do all I could for the best possible results.
Do you know what I hated most? It's when I told people that I was going to have chemo and they gasped and said, "I feel so sorry for you. You're going to be so sick. I'm so sorry." You would think chemotherapy is a death sentence. It's not. At least I was hoping it wasn't.
Sunday - January 14th - I asked Henry not to say anything about chemotherapy in church because I didn't want to hear any more gasps, and remarks that would make me feel crazy for going through with this. He did ask the people in the evening service to pray for me tho'. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised that I slept very well that night.
Monday the 15th - The day I'd been waiting for, with dread. When the cancer doctor said everything looked good, I couldn’t help thinking to myself, 'Then why am I here?' He said the actual tumor was 1.8 cm., and it looked like the cancer was contained in the lump itself. But at the same time that was no guarantee that there was no more cancer in my body. He repeated "There's a 75% chance of non-reoccurrence without further treatment, but there would be about an 80 - 82% chance after chemotherapy." That didn't, and still doesn't, seem like a very big improvement to me, but I guess I had already made up my mind to do all I could to get the best results possible. I just knew I didn't want to be cut open again. I didn't like the idea of going bald either, even tho' I knew, at least I was hoping and praying, that it would all grow back. It didn't dawn on me at the time that I could loose every single hair on my body. I was told that if I didn't start loosing my hair after the first treatment, I would for sure after the second one. Now that was something to look forward to! We didn't talk about radiation much that day. It was probably just as well. I didn't want to think about too many things at once.
The chemotherapy room had five recliners, a small refrigerator with juice and stuff that we could help ourselves to. Nothing was sugar free except the ice cubes and water. Guess what I had? There was a basket of candy on a table with a bunch of old magazines. A little later a volunteer came in with a cart that had coffee, lukewarm tea, juice, and cookies. All the good stuff is filled with sugar. This was a hospital for Pete's sake. A place to get healthy. Where’s the diet coke? I guess I was just jealous because I couldn't have any of the good stuff. The nurse started the IV and told me some things that were going to happen, some of the side effects and what to do if.... Then she gave me three anti-nausea drugs, and started the saline drip. Next came a red medicine, doxorubicin, in a huge needle. I'm glad that it went directly into the IV and not into a vein. I don't think any of my veins are that big. When that one was done a clear drug, cyclophosphamide, was set up in a drip. When that one was almost done I felt like I had a sudden, major head cold. It was really weird. That was followed by another saline solution to flush things through. I was given a prescription for three anti-nausea drugs to take at home, and told to watch for colds, flu, sore throat, or fever, and report any of those to my doctor. The nurse told us we might want to get a loan from the bank before we went to buy the pills I would be needing, because they are quite expensive, and then sent us on our way.
I felt really weak for the rest of the day, but not sick. I took one of the expensive pills before I went to bed, because I was told to, but at over twenty bucks each, I knew I wouldn't be taking more than I really needed. I'm too cheap. Our insurance does pay 80% on our medications after we send in the receipts, but still, the thought of a twenty dollar pill...... I could have a really good prime rib dinner for that!
Tuesday January 17th. - I got up and took another pill. Not because I thought I needed it, but because I was told I'd be sorry if I didn't. My face was red and hot all day, but I didn't feel too bad, just weak, tired and constipated. I thought if that's all there is to chemotherapy it will be a breeze, but at the same time I didn't sleep very well that night. It was like I was waiting to feel sick. After all, people kept telling me how sick I was going to be. I don't know why some people feel like they have to tell you about things they know nothing about. Do they really think they're helping anyone in any way?
Wednesday - My stomach was a little uneasy shortly after I got up, but not too bad. I took one of the cheaper pills, just to make sure I wouldn't get too sick. I sure wasn't constipated that day, so I stuck close to home, and did laundry. That doesn't sound quite right. I did laundry because it had piled up over the past few days, not because I wasn't constipated that day. Like you want to know about my plumbing.
Thursday I felt pretty good when I got up, so we did our usual thing and went to Nanaimo. We went to three stores and I was tired, really tired, so we went home. I slept most of the way home.
Friday it dawned on me that it was probably the coffee on an empty stomach that was causing the uneasy feeling, so I switched to hot chocolate. That was much better. Still the nagging thought, "Am I going to be okay today? When am I going to start feeling as sick as people say I would be?" What a way to spend the day.
Saturday I told myself "I'm not going to be sick. I have to get on with my life." After breakfast I gave the dog a bath, cleaned the bathroom, made the bed, cleaned a closet. Then I realized just how much the chemo took out of me. I was exhausted, and it wasn't even lunch-time! I hadn't done a whole lot since surgery, so that didn't help either. My arm was coming along really well and I was able to do almost all the fun things I normally did. You know, vacuuming, cooking, cleaning the toilets. It had been kind of nice having an excuse not to do all those things for a while. I still had a little swelling on my flat side and it hurt when my clothes rubbed on my skin. I didn't have much feeling under my arm and putting deodorant on felt like putting it on a block of wood. The scar and holes where the clips were still looked ugly, in my opinion, and my opinion was all that mattered to me right then.
Sunday- Henry told the congregation that I had my first chemotherapy treatment and the prayers of the people were definitely helping. I felt really good. I found out later the rest of the treatments wouldn't be that easy. One older gentleman came up to me after church and said, "You know you're gonna lose all your hair?" I assured him that, "Yes, I do know that." I wasn't talking about it, but I definitely did not like what I saw in the mirror, but I was trying not to focus on that either. Of course I wasn't talking about it. Who would want to hear about it anyway? I knew I wouldn't like the bald, lopsided person I'd soon be looking at either. I was alive, and cancer free, as far as we knew, and that was the most important thing. I'd have to get used to my new look, someday.
Every morning when I combed my hair I looked to see if there were more hairs in the comb than usual. I was hoping it would be a while before it fell out. I'd heard, a lot, that often a person's hair comes back different. Sometimes darker, curly, thicker, or a different color. Yikes! What if it all came back gray?
Tuesday, January 23rd - I see old habits are hard to break. I found myself pulling out gray hairs today. They just wouldn't do what I wanted them to. When I realized what I was doing I left the rest, they would be gone soon enough. Went to the surgeon for a checkup again. He sounded a little surprised when I told him I'd been swinging a golf club already, without pain. We talked a little about reconstructive surgery, just to let me know what my options were. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go under the knife again. Too bad a person can't just grow another one. Like a lizard grows another tail. He told me I would have to watch out for infection in my arm for the rest of my life, and I'd have to be careful not to injure myself. I don't think he knows my history, an accident waiting to happen. I'll have to wear protective gloves while gardening. I can't have blood taken from that arm, no IV's, no blood pressure cuffs or injections in that arm. All because they took a few lymph nodes. I wonder how many of those nodes are under a person's arm. All I know is we need them to fight infection.
Sunday 28th - 14 Days after my first chemo. Didn't do much in the past few days. Walked the dike, a 45 min. walk, with friends. I watched Jeremy's soccer game from the car yesterday. It was too cold and windy outside. Wasn't much warmer in the car, but at least no wind. In the shower this morning I noticed more hair than usual clogging the drain. It was time to shop for a wig. I didn't go to church. I was told to stay away from crowds and sick people from ten to fourteen days after chemotherapy. My throat was a little sore anyway.
Monday - My head was incredibly itchy! I bet I lost half of my hair already, and what was left doesn't feel or look good. It was more like dead straw. How do you comb dead straw? I told Jeremy I would give him one of the things he had been wanting. I had been cutting his hair since birth, and now I would let him cut my hair, this one time only, if he wanted to, in a couple of days. I started wearing a scarf to hide what little hair I had left.
Tuesday, January 30th- Went wig shopping. I couldn't believe my hair was falling out so fast. My scalp was red and itchy, and driving me crazy. Henry said the wig looked so natural no one would know it's fake. Yea right! I didn't buy that line for a second. As soon as we got home Jeremy said it looked awful. That made me feel really good! Why do kids have to be so painfully honest? I need to teach him when it's okay to tell a little fib. The wig is a slightly different color than my natural hair, and thicker, but I didn't think it looked all that bad, but I still felt self-conscious when I wore it. But think how self-conscious I would be if I went out bald Wednesday- I let Jeremy cut my hair today after school. He took before and after pictures of me. Talk about a bad hair day! My new haircut was one to one and a half inches long, very uneven, and when he finished he stood back and laughed. I caught myself giving him a bad time because he cut it so short, but what did it really matter? It really didn't look any worse than before he cut it, and it would soon be all gone anyway. It was so itchy when he was done I washed it right away and almost all of it came out. I was almost totally bald, but the itch was gone. I hadn't realized how much gray I had 'till I was holding it in my hand. I didn't feel sick, but I sure looked the part. ! A few days later I let him shave it all off.
I wore the wig out in public that day and no one laughed, at least not to my face. I still wore the scarf most of the time at home. I felt funny wearing the wig. Who was trying to kid anyway? All our friends knew I was bald. Fake hair and socks in my bra. I was feeling like a phony, but I couldn't bring myself to go out in the world bald and flat on one side.
Friday, February 2nd - My throat was a little sore, but I didn't think it was anything to worry about. Very few hairs left on my head. What I'd like to know is why does the hair we all want to keep fall out first? Why couldn't the hair on my legs, under my arms, and facial hair fall out first? I began to wonder- what if it all grows back thicker. I could look like a gorilla. What a thought! I was looking balder and paler every day. I definitely did not like my new look.
Monday, February 5th - I caught myself putting a comb in my purse today. I couldn't believe it. What did I think I would do with it? Comb the twenty or so hairs I had left? Henry said my new hairdo didn't do anything for me, as if I didn't already know that. I reminded him that he's getting a little thin on the top himself, and when his is gone it won't be growing back. I would have loved to give him a haircut today. Three more days until my next treatment and I could hardly wait. Yea right! At least I would be half way through.
I was trying to get used to the idea of a wig, but it was giving me a headache after a couple hours. Whoever said bald is beautiful wasn't talking about a woman having chemotherapy. I still have hairy legs, but even they are getting itchy. I know it won't be long before I'll have smooth silky legs, without the pain of ripping them out with the hair removal thing I have in the closet. My eyebrows are thinning, but the other facial hairs are all there. My underarm hair is thinning, but the hair on my arms is as healthy as ever. I'm beginning to wonder if I would ever have all the feeling back in my arm from surgery.
Friday - The day after my second chemotherapy treatment. We decided to have the rest of the treatments done in Nanaimo, because it's only an hour from home as opposed to three hours to Victoria. I don't feel too bad, as long as I eat every few minutes. My face didn't get red this time, like it did after the first treatment, but I'm tired, really tired. I met another doctor yesterday, and yes, I had to get undressed and be felt again. What was it with all these doctors? Haven't they got anything better to do?
The chemotherapy nurses do things a little different in Nanaimo. I had an 11 a.m. appointment and I didn't get in until after 12. The "session" was suppose to take an hour and it took two. They gave me lunch. I didn't want lunch, but they wanted me to have lunch, so I had lunch.
Tuesday the 13th - I sure haven't had much fun since the last treatment. Actually I haven't been having much fun for quite a while. I felt pretty good on Sunday tho'. We even had Henry's parents here for dinner. I didn't go to church. I just didn't have the energy for both company and church. Monday I felt awful. My neck and shoulders hurt all day. I did absolutely nothing, but today I felt pretty good. I think the second treatment was worse than the first. I thought, for a minute, it might have been my imagination, but I didn't think so. I can hardly wait until this is all over. There were so many things I want to do, but I know it would do me in if I tried to do it all now. I feel antsy. I have to do more or I'll go nuts. So I cooked dinner, did dishes, did laundry, went shopping, cleaned the bathroom, and pulled three weeds. I should confess here that it took three days to do it all.
Friday the16th - I felt pretty good in the last couple of days, except my mouth has been really dry. Went to Nanaimo yesterday. Walked through Cathedral Grove, came home, walked the dike, and visited friends after supper. Boy was I tired! Slept late today. Henry and Jeremy went skiing. I had planned on hitting a bucket of balls at the driving range, but the sun decided not to shine, so I didn't. It rained most of the afternoon.
Sunday the 18th - Did the usual Sunday things, church, lunch, watched golf on TV, finished the laundry I started yesterday, and watched more TV. My skin has been really dry for a couple of weeks. Even the top of my head is dry and flaking! People are telling me I shouldn't be doing all the things I'm doing, because I'm going through chemotherapy, but I was feeling pretty good and didn't want to sit around and do nothing. I wanted to do more, but I get too tired too easy.
Monday the 19th - I was getting ready to leave the house to take Jeremy and the dog for a walk on the dike when Jeremy asked me "Are you going like that?" I had the scarf on my head. I answered "Yea. Why?" "I don't think we want everyone to know you're bald Mom. I think you should wear your hair." "OK." I wore the wig. I thought I was getting a little color back, but it was months before anyone else said they thought so.
Thursday the 29th - I had a good week, so far. Had the third treatment today. Got home feeling not too awfully bad. Not too awfully good either.
Tuesday, March 5th - This one hit me harder than the other two. I've felt awful since the treatment. I lost breakfast Sunday. Not that I needed an excuse not to go to church. It wasn't the gut wrenching kind of thing I've read about in other people's cancer stories, but I did wonder all day if it was going to get worse. It didn't. Jeremy had the flu last week and I thought that I picked it up from him. I felt sick all day, and had no energy. Today I feel much better, but not good. Henry has been good around the house lately. Doing dishes every night, doing laundry, and bringing in the firewood since my operation. Is this what it takes to get help around the house? He has said in the past "If you want help, just ask." I figure he should know when I need help. "Just look around. A woman would know if I needed help. If I'm struggling to do something, that should be a big clue." And besides I have tried asking. He helps when he wants to, not necessarily when I need, or want, the help. He keeps telling me "Men think differently than women." Duh, there's a big news flash.
A lady from church brought over a couple of dinners the other day. They lasted five days. I don't know how much she thinks we eat. I guess tomorrow we have to cook or pick something up. I vote for the latter. I could get really spoiled not cooking or doing housework. I'm really beginning to doubt my decision to have chemotherapy. I know the doctors, the "experts" recommend it, but if they really got it all in surgery like they think, why am I going though all this? I don't like feeling so crummy all the time. I want to get on with my life. I want my hair back, my head is always cold. There's things that need to be done, and I don't want to have to ask anyone to do them. I'm tired of being tired!
Wednesday, March 6th - My tongue has felt weird since the last treatment. The back and underneath hurts when I move it, and when I stick it out. NO, I'm not sticking it out at people. I feel like I have food that's stuck halfway down my throat. My eyes are burning. My stomach is upset. I wonder how bad I'd feel if I didn't have so many people praying for me. Not that I want to find out. I guess I should be counting my blessings. I just don't feel too blessed right now. I can take pills for my stomach, but while they settle things down a bit they do other things too, like make me feel weird. I've been told for years that I'm weird, but this is a different weird. It seems like the hungrier I get, the more upset my stomach is. I want all of this to go away. I want the real me back.
I see the radiation doctor next week. I don't want to do the radiation thing, but I'll hear him out and see if he has a good reason for me to do it.
Monday, March 11 - My tongue only got worse for the weekend. I could barely swallow for a couple of days. Bad news for someone who likes to eat. One of our grown sons, came over for the weekend, and with him around no one else gets to eat much anyway. Just kidding Jason. Jeremy stayed with his grandparents for the weekend. It was quiet around here, but we didn't mind. We didn't do much. Sometimes I think Jason just comes over to catch up on his sleep anyway.
Tuesday - Went to my family doctor today, because I was told I should be seeing her in between chemo treatments. I don't know why they waited 'till the third treatment to tell me this. I noticed a little lump on my hand a couple of weeks ago, but I don't want to panic and think everything is cancer so I didn't mention it to her. It only hurts sometimes. I'll tell her another day. Everything else is fine.
Wednesday - Went to see the radiologist today. I'm not sure he had a good reason for the radiation. He started by saying "I'm not one hundred percent sure you need radiation." "Then why am I here?" He told me I had a type three tumor, the worse kind. "Okay, you have my attention." He said without radiation I have a 30% chance of the cancer returning. With it there's a 5% chance. It was because of where the tumor was and how big it was that he wasn't totally sure I needed radiation. Mine was 2 - 3 centimeters from the chest wall. At 5cm radiation isn't needed. At 1cm it is highly recommended. To be on the safe side he felt it would be best to go ahead with it. After asking a few more questions and talking for a while I decided to go ahead with it. I had already been taking the worst of the treatments. I will be having 16 treatments. Three weeks and one day in Victoria, at the Cancer Lodge. I wonder what that one extra day will do.
Thursday, March 14th - Went to see the chemo doctor in Nanaimo. He asked me what side effects I've been having. I told him I felt sick for a week after the treatment, but it hasn't been unbearable. I told him about my hair falling out too, just in case he didn't notice he was looking at a bald person. He gave me another prescription. (for my stomach, not my hair) I forgot to tell him about my sore tongue and mouth, the cold I've had since the last treatment, my missed periods, night sweats, and being cold most of the time. I guess I only told him of the things that bothered me the most. Probably because that's all I could think of at the time. After all I feel good today, and I've always had a bad memory. Today I'm warm, my mouth doesn't hurt, and I don't care if I ever have another period. I could do without the hot flushes and night sweats, and chills tho'.
Saturday, March 16th - I feel like I'm having a PMS day. I hope that's all it is. Henry and Jeremy were going to the mall and when I said I would like to go, Jeremy groaned and said he didn't want me to go with them. So I stayed home and felt sorry for myself. I don't think he likes having a bald mother. I don't like being bald either. But it's not like I'm going through all this just to embarrass him. I know a few easier ways to do that. After all, I did have my wig on, because I know he doesn't particularly like me to wear my scarf when we go anywhere together. When they came home he gave me a packet of flower seeds and said he was sorry for hurting my feelings. It didn't help much tho'.
If my iron level gets too low they won't do the chemotherapy and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm not really looking forward to the chemotherapy itself, but the fact that this is the last one. I'll be done! I can't say this is the worse part of the treatments because I still think surgery was the worse. But this is running a very close second. Radiation should be a breeze. At least I hope so. The "experts" say radiation is easy compared to what I've been through. They make a mold of your body so you can lay perfectly still while the treatment is being done. The radiation will only be done on the spot where the cancer was, and under the arm. I've been told radiation will leave what looks, and feels like a bad sunburn, and it makes you feel tired, but not as tired as chemotherapy leaves you. I just hope all this information is right. I'm not looking forward to the three-week stay in Victoria, but I am looking forward to all this being over with. I'd like to have my hair back too.
I'm considering having another surgery. To get back what they took from me, only a fake one. I don't know yet. I still don't like the looks of the scar I already have, and I'm hoping it will go away soon. I have mixed feelings about another surgery, but I would like to look more normal. Now I have fake hair and a sock in my bra, and no one can tell me that is anywhere near normal. Maybe a saline implant wouldn't be all that bad. Maybe. I'll have to think about it some more.
Wednesday, March 20th - I had my day-before-chemo blood work today. I'm really looking forward to all this being over with. I'm almost excited about going to Nanaimo tomorrow. (I must be sicker than I thought.) My doctor phoned, and my white count is too low. I'll have to wait another week. My doctor says the chemo drugs attack the bone marrow and that's what makes the white cells. I wonder if my cold is hurting me more than I thought. In a way it's good-- I'll have one more week of feeling good before I feel bad again. A whole week to dread the treatment. I just hope I'll be feeling alright for Easter weekend, when the boys are all going to be here. I would just like to wake up from this nightmare and get on with my life. The only problem is that this is real life and I have to live it out. I know there's a lot of people a whole lot worse off than I am, but that isn't making it any easier. I just want my "normal" life. Whatever "normal" is.
Wednesday, March 27th - Had my blood work done again. This time it's good. I feel excited. This is weird. It's been a long three months. I just heard a couple of days ago that some doctors are calling this kind of treatment "cut, poison, and burn." Why do 'friends' say those sort of things while you're going through the treatments? I've felt really good all week, but haven't done much. I feel so lazy.
Thursday - Yes! I had my last chemotherapy treatment today, but I'm not celebrating yet. To tell the truth I don't feel well enough to celebrate. The nurse had a hard time finding a vein the first time - and the second. I told her we could skip the treatment if they couldn't find a good vein, but she didn't think that was such a good idea. Another nurse came over and found one for her. The treatment took two hours, as usual. I felt exhausted after, as usual.
Saturday, the 30th - Feet pretty good. A little more energy. Watched half of Jeremy's soccer game, went home and cleaned the bathroom, and did some dusting. Ran out of energy.
Sunday, April 1st - Feel pretty good today, especially after I got sick. Not much energy tho'. I think I feel better than after the last treatment. Maybe I did have a touch of the flu last time. I'm just glad it's all over with. I have so many things I want to do before the kids get here for Easter, I just hope I don't overdo it so I can enjoy the visit.
I read the other day that it takes three to six months before a person's hair starts to grow back after chemo. Three to six months! I've been nearly bald for two months already, and now I find out it could be another one to four months before it starts to grow. That's a long time. My eyelashes and eyebrows are nearly all gone. I wonder how long before I'll get them back.
Wednesday, April 3rd - Went to Victoria to the radiation doctor. Got my body mold made, and x-rays done. I felt really sick all day. Jeremy went with us. He didn't want to be that far from us for the day. I think all this is getting to him too- headaches, upset stomach, etc.
Thursday My blood sugar reading is 23.7 - No wonder I feel sick. I don't think I'll tell my doctor about that one.
Friday - Blood sugars are down to a reasonable number. Feel much better. I went to Nanaimo and picked our boys up at the ferry. My throat was really sore by bedtime.
Easter Sunday, April 7th - My throat was really sore all weekend, just like after the last chemotherapy treatment. I hope it goes away soon like the last time. The kids had to go home today to be ready for work tomorrow. Enjoyed having them here.
Friday, April 12th - I thought my throat was really sore all weekend, but now...wow! At least I could eat over the weekend. I went to the doctor on Tuesday to have it checked out. It wasn't strept throat, but it was really sore. The doctor couldn't find any reason it should be that sore. It was red, yes, but...? I had been taking throat lozenges but they weren't helping any. The baking soda and salt rinses did nothing. When I tried to eat an incredible pain shot up to my ear. It was unreal. I went and bought the throat rinse the doctor recommended along with the antibiotics. The rinse was supposed to numb the throat and mouth immediately, it didn't. It did help a little, but not as good as I would have liked. I have to eat before I can take the pills. I have never dreaded eating before. I weighed 144 last week, and now I weigh 138. I guess if I was trying to lose weight I would feel good about it, but I'm not, I don't really care. I'm hungry all the time.
I took a small flashlight and looked in my mouth, thinking the doctor must have missed something. (Maybe the sore hadn't come through yet?) When I went to see her I couldn't pinpoint where the pain was coming from. I just knew it hurt, and it hurt a lot. I can see now I have a sore on the underside of my tongue. It is rubbing on my teeth every time I try to eat or talk. I never have been one to talk a lot, but I do like to eat. The pills are helping, but it still hurts quite a bit. I know, whine, whine, whine.
Monday, April 15th - Mowed the lawn, raked, and did some weed eating. Too tired to do anything else.
Tuesday - My throat feels pretty good. I was even able to eat. Got a few more things done today, but it rained most of the day, so I couldn't plant anything. I'm getting anxious to get things in the ground. But I won't do it in the rain. Not this year.
Thursday, April 18th - It's been three weeks since my last treatment, and I feel pretty good. My throat is back to normal. I'm still anxiously awaiting the call from Victoria to let me know when I go down for the radiation, but I know they're busy down there. Someone told me she had to wait five months to get in. I sure hope that doesn't happen to me. I don't want to sit by the phone for that long waiting. I'm still not good about waiting. I want to be able to plan things. To go places, and do things. "Please Lord let it be soon."
Friday, April 19th - They phoned! I should have prayed about it sooner. I start radiation in two weeks, on May 2. I feel like I'll be losing three weeks of my life. The yard work needs to be done, and I know that no one else that lives in this house will do it.
Saturday - The sunshine is here, so I did get to do a few things outdoors. I ran out of energy before I got very many things done, but at least it's a start.
Sunday, April 21st - Another sunny day. I wish it was okay to work on Sundays. The weatherman said it was going to rain all week. What do you think would happen to me if I did do my yard work on Sunday? Would the Sunday School police arrest me? Would next Sunday's bulletin read "Pastor's wife caught working on Sunday. Please don't let your child get too close to her. She might teach them to work on the day of rest." I really doubt it. It has been raining pretty steady for the past three weeks and I need to get things done. There's hardly anybody that drops by without calling anyway. Who will know? Who will care?
I have to be careful now in the sun. During and after chemotherapy the skin is more sensitive. I wasn't told what the sun could do to me, just to be careful. I know I'll burn easier. I love to sit in the sun and read, garden, watch the traffic go by, and whatever, so it will be hard for me this summer. I have to, at least I should, wear a hat and sunscreen when I go out. I have been wearing long sleeves too. I'm almost always cold, and then a hot flash comes along and I feel like peeling everything off. Wouldn't that be cute. I think I was the only person in Port Alberni today wearing a turtleneck and a sweater. It was over 70 degrees outside.
There's no sign of any hair growing back yet. I just hope when it does come back it will be what I want. Wavy and no gray would be nice. Eyebrows and eyelashes would be good too. You know when you have something in your eye and you pull your eyelid down to get it out? It's really hard when you don't have eyelashes. I do have one eyelash, and believe me one isn't enough to do the job.
My energy is coming back, slowly. I know some day the hot flashes and chills will stop, but it won't be soon enough. I wonder if chemo brings on early menopause. I'll have to add that to my list of questions for the doctor.
Sunday the 28th - I lost it! I don't know how or when but it's gone. There's no sign of it anywhere. My last eyelash has disappeared.
It's been four weeks since my last chemo and I feel pretty good. Not my normal good, but a lot better than lately. I mowed the lawn yesterday, not today. We wouldn't want the Sunday School police arresting me. Then I did the weed eating, front and back. I even had enough energy left to go grocery shopping! I had to go shopping, the refrigerator was empty. But I didn't mind. My back and arms were sore last night from weed whacking on the hill, our front yard, but today I feel fine. I hope we get a few days of sun this week so I can plant some things that keep begging for a place to call home.
Monday the 29th - Planted a few things on the hill. (our front yard.)
Tuesday the 30th - I'm a little sore today, but went out and hit a bucket of balls. That's when I found out just how sore I really am.
I'm thinking of driving myself down to Victoria Thursday for the first radiation treatment. It's such a pain for anybody to drive me down one day and back the next.
In the shower this morning I was thinking about how embarrassed I felt in the hospital after surgery. Now I feel silly for being embarrassed. I didn't wake up one morning and say "I think today I'll go in and have surgery, let them chop off a piece of my body just for the heck of it." I chose to live longer. What else could I do? Hundreds of women have it done every year. It doesn't make me feel any better tho' knowing there's hundreds of other lopsided women out there.
Thursday May 2 - I did drive myself to Victoria. Left home at 9 a.m. and got to the hospital at noon. Checked into the cancer lodge first. I had 45 min. 'till my appointment. They held lunch for me at the lodge, until after my appointment. I got a tour of the lodge. There are three lounges. One is a humor room. It has a TV, VCR, funny videos, a closet full of puzzles, books, and an exercise bike. I think the bike is in the wrong room. To me there's nothing funny, or even fun, about exercise. The upstairs lounge has a pool table, a shuffle board, small refrigerator, and of course a TV. That's where you're suppose to go when you want to watch sports. The main lounge is on the main floor just inside the main door. What a great place for a main lounge! There's lots of books and games there, and a table to do jigsaw puzzles. Everyone is very friendly. There are different things going on through the week, like bingo, rieki, whatever that is, a hair dresser comes once a week, a lady comes to play the piano, and other things.
When I went to my appointment they drew lines with a felt marker on my body, a permanent marker. I've spent twenty years telling my kids, "Don't draw on yourself it's too hard to wash off", and here I was letting someone draw on me, with three colors of permanent markers. I was told not to wash the lines off. (These nurses won't make very good parents) I have to leave the marks on for three weeks. When they fade during that time they'll be redrawn. I can't use soap on that part of my body or a heating pad. I'm almost always cold, and the heating pad has been my best friend lately, but now I'll have to go it alone. Withdrawal.
For lunch we had chicken something on a biscuit, green beans with carrots, and a vegetable soup. It tasted and acted like a bean soup, if you know what I mean.
I met three others from Port Alberni today here at the lodge. Supper was soup, left over from lunch, rice and fish, or a sandwich, salad, and ice cream. I didn't have the soup that time. I wanted to get to know some people. I must admit when I first got there I wasn't looking forward to being there, but after I got to meet some of the people - patients and staff, I was feeling better about it. I know there are people back home praying for me and I take comfort in that.
Friday, May 3rd - Slept good last night. Needed another blanket tho' because of chills. Good thing I had it ready ahead of time. Breakfast is at 8a.m. I've heard it's the best meal of the day. I'll see in twenty minutes. Breakfast has never been my favorite meal.
- Just got back from breakfast. It was okay. When I got in line for breakfast someone said, "It's different on Fridays. Not quite as much variety." There were juices, coffee, tea, cold cereals, hot cereal, bacon, eggs - cooked any way you want. I had raisin bran, bacon, and tea. My treatment is at 11 this morning and lunch is at 11:30. Then I'll head back home.
A couple of the ladies that have been here for a couple of weeks say the radiation is making them really tired. I wonder if the radiation will have that effect on me. We felt a small earthquake last night. Five point something. It was during our coffee time. We had a choice of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, cheese and crackers, and, or fruit. At least they feed us very well. There's also two other coffee times during the day. One mid morning, and one in the afternoon. The rooms have intercoms to the front desk, so they can call us and not have to go looking for us. There are no phones or TV's in the bedrooms. I guess that helps people get to know each other better. We're suppose to sign in and out whenever we go anywhere. It's almost like being a little kid again. Except you don't have to ask permission to go somewhere.
Went downstairs to read while waiting for my appointment, but ended up working on a puzzle instead.
When I got home for the weekend no-one was here. The floor was begging to be swept, or shoveled. The dishes were piled high, dear hubby had books everywhere. What a welcome home! They did bring me flowers when they came home, and it did help a little, but... not much. Jeremy wanted to spend the weekend with Grandma and Grandpa. I helped him with his paper route, made supper, did the dishes and left the rest. Saturday I drove Jeremy to Parksville. Henry spent Saturday morning at the church working and when I got home from Parksville he informed me that he was going sailing, and was gone the rest of the day. I was wondering why I even came home.
Sunday - Henry took some kids out to lunch after church. He said I could come with them if I wanted, but I didn't. I went out with adults instead. That night Jason phoned to say what a rotten weekend he just had, and I told him what a rotten weekend I had. He said it was okay that I had the rotten weekend, because I've been married forever and I should expect it. It didn't make me feel any better. I planted dahlias this afternoon. The Sunday School police didn't show up, but someone from another church came by to talk to Henry. I'd been caught. And nothing happened.
Monday, May 5th - We went out for breakfast and then planted dahlias in the corner by the church sign. Then it was time to head for Victoria. I like to drive so the trip didn't bother me.
The nurse in radiation redrew the red lines on my flat chest. The red ones come off so easy- all over the clothes.
Most of the same people from last week are still here. A few new faces tho'. Each night at supper the nurse tells us who the new ones are and tells us who is done with their treatments. We all clap for the ones that are done and wish them well. We watched the movie "Babe" after supper.
Tuesday, May 6 - Slept pretty good last night. Woke up a few times cold tho'. My throat is a little sore today. Went shopping, worked on puzzles, went to treatment and saw a doctor. Nothing exciting. I'm thinking this could be a really long week.
Wednesday - Went to the mall again. Needed to walk, and it's too cold outside, especially since I'm cold most of the time anyway. Drove to the waterfront, got lost a few times and decided it was time to go back "home". Good thing I had a map with me.
At radiation I got undressed as usual, top only, put on the backwards gown, and had baby powder everywhere. (We are suppose to put the powder on the radiated spot a few times during the day to help protect the skin.) I didn't realize how much powder I had dumped down my shirt. It was on my black sweater, black pants, black shoes, and the carpet. I should have worn a different color today. There was a new guy doing the treatment today. It seems like there's a different person almost every day. I've lost track of how many people I've had to take my shirt off for.
Looked at a prosthesis today. They want $400 - $450 for the things. What a rip-off. Socks only cost a couple of bucks and you get a matching pair! I haven't decided what to do yet. I know our insurance will pay for most if not all of it, but I don't want to buy one until I decide for sure one way or another about the implant. The socks work fine for now. Worked on another puzzle for a couple of hours. At least it makes the time fly by a lot faster.
Friday - My appointment is at 10:30. I can't wait to get it over with and go home. The week did go by pretty fast, but there's no place like home. I just hope it's a little cleaner than last weekend. It was.
Wednesday, May 15th - My in-laws drove me down on to Victoria Monday. I guess I'm expecting to feel tired soon because of what others have said. We went to Eaton Center and looked around a bit before they took me to the lodge. Maybe I'll go back to the Eaton Center some day when I have more time. Went to another mall with a few of the ladies from the lodge yesterday, and then out to supper. I was surprised we had liver for lunch at the lodge today. I like liver, but didn't expect it here. I think we went out for supper because there was a lot left over, and lunch leftovers are supper.
Thursday, May 23rd - I'm getting pretty well cooked. I think I may even glow in the dark. The nurses told me that if I was using my baby powder like I was suppose to I shouldn't burn this much. I told them that I'm always covered in the stuff, and so are my clothes, but I don't think they believe me.
Friday, May 24th - My last treatment! I was told that the radiated area could continue to burn for 10 days after the treatment is over. Now that's something to look forward to. The nurse said "Don't wash off the lines when you go home." I started to laugh, but noticed I was the only one laughing. "You're kidding, aren't you?" "No. If you scrub off the lines you will irritate the skin, and because it's already burnt you could do real damage. Also, no lotion on that area and keep using the baby powder. OK." "OK."
I took my body mold home with me to show Jeremy, and went to the lodge to say good-by, and thank you for everything. The nurse said again how much she enjoyed the group of people that had been staying there for the past three weeks. She said there hasn't been that much laughter there in a long time. It had been a good group, and I'm glad I could be a part of it. Jeremy wasn't impressed or even interested in the mold.
I did continue to burn for ten days after, and more than that. After three weeks I had the worse burn under my arm. For a few days I even thought of seeing a doctor, but.... I think I'd had enough of doctors for a while. Then it finally started to heal. I had many people praying for me and I had been taking vitamins all winter, when I could, and I think it really helped me heal. Through it all, I had people come and say to me that they were still praying for me to be completely well. I didn't feel many side effects from the radiation except for the burn. I had a fair bit of energy through it all, but did feel a little more tired than usual.
My hair started to grow back while I was taking radiation treatments. My eyebrows and eyelashes grew back really fast, but the hair I really wanted, on my head, took it's own sweet time. I didn't have to comb my hair for eight months. I didn't have enough to comb for eight months. It even came back curly. I don't think it's any darker, and I still have some gray, although someone told me she doesn't think I have as much gray.
The hair on my face grew back too. More than I had before. Thicker and longer than I had before. Yikes! I was turning into the ape after all! I went to the drugstore to see if there was anything I could use to get rid of the unwanted hair, short of shaving. The young lady in the beauty department said there was. She said there's the painless method and the painful method. I, like any normal person, said I'd like the painless one. I rushed home and tried it out on a spot on my neck to make sure I wasn't allergic to the stuff. The hair wiped off easily after a few minutes. It was great! So after the twenty-four hour waiting period I was all set. First I put it on the hairiest part of my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I figured I might as well get rid of the rest of the hair on my face too. If you're going to get rid of hair, why not get rid of it all? I looked like I was getting ready to shave, with the white stuff covering my face. The directions said wait three or four minutes and wipe off a small spot to see if it's ready to come off. It wasn't, so I redid the spot. The next thing I knew my face was on fire! I couldn't get the stuff off fast enough. I had to hold a cold washcloth on my face for what seemed like hours. The bad news is that the hair wasn't ready to come off yet. The stuff didn't do the job! My face was on fire and most of the hair was still there. It didn't feel like hair though. It felt like dry straw or something. And this was the painless method! My face burned off and on all night and the next day. The next day I had little scabs all over my face, and the rest of my face was red as a beet. I couldn't believe it. I took the rest of the 'painless' hair remover back to the store and got my money back. I guess the doctors were right when they said chemotherapy could leave my skin more sensitive for months. I wonder what the other stuff would have done to me.
Since my ordeal with cancer I've had a couple of women tell me, "I'm glad that doesn't run in my family." The sad news is that it doesn't have to run in your family for you to get breast cancer. It can happen to anyone. You are much more likely to get it if you're a woman tho'.
One other thing women say is that they have a lump but the doctor wants to watch it for six months. To me that's scary. I would rather see them get a second opinion. I don't want to scare anyone, but there was a lady at the lodge the same time as I was who's doctor said "Let's wait six months and see what happens." After the six months he said "I don't think it's anything to worry about. Let's check it again in six months." Finally after two years a biopsy was done and cancer was found. After the mastectomy was done they found cancer cells in the lymph nodes as well. It's harder to get rid of cancer after it's spread to the nodes, and I would hate to see anyone go through that pain and agony. I think now that if I ever find another lump I will insist on a biopsy, even if the doctor doesn't think there's anything to worry about.
I'm really glad my doctor took it seriously and had it checked out right away.
Jan. 21, 1997 - I went to see a plastic surgeon today. Not only did I have to take my shirt off for him, but he took a picture! He showed me some before and after pictures of women who have had implants. They all had a black line drawn across their eyes so no one would know who they are...? Then he told me that nothing could be done before a full year has passed from my last treatment. That would be the beginning of June. Since he is retiring in Sept. he wouldn't be doing my surgery. It takes one surgery to put the implant in and another one to make the real one match the fake one. He doesn't want to start the job and not be able to finish it. So I have to see his partner, after I see the cancer doctor and get his okay for the operation. I feel like it was a wasted trip in a way, because it really didn't accomplish anything, but…. he does have another picture to add to his collection, and I had the day to myself to go shopping and have lunch with a friend I met a the cancer clinic.
My hair has grown back, and I'm thinking of getting it cut. It's been a whole year since my last cut. It's still wavy and I'm hoping I won't have to pay for another perm - ever.
March 6,1997 - I saw the cancer doctor today. He said it was a bit unusual for the radiated spot to still be red still. I asked how unusual. He said about one in twenty patients still have red skin this long after the treatment. Most of the time the red is gone in a couple of months. In cases like mine it could last a couple of years or indefinitely. He said everything has healed up nicely and he sees no reason not to go ahead with reconstruction. He did say tho' that if the plastic surgeon uses the skin that's already there I would end up with one side darker than the other one, and asked if that would bother me. I said "Look at me. I just want a matching pair again. I don't care if one is darker." It's not like I'm going to walk around without a shirt on. I don't live in a nudist colony or anything like that. Who's going to see what color it is anyway. Even after the red goes away I'll have what looks like a tan on that spot - forever.
I also went and got a haircut today. The bad news is that most of the curl is gone. I just may have to get a perm next time I get it cut.
I did have to get a perm, oh well, at least I have hair to perm.
June 3 - 1997 I phoned the plastic surgeon and got an appointment for the end of July to talk over the possibility of an implant.
June 25th '97 - In the shower this morning I noticed a dark reddish brown discharge from my remaining nipple. I called my doctor immediately. Now I have to wait all day - 'till 4:15 to get in to see her. I have a feeling it will be a long day. I thought about calling someone to talk to, but who? Who do you tell these things to? I don't want to worry anyone, I didn't want to embarrass anyone, least not me. I'm not even going to talk to Henry about it 'till I've seen the doctor. Maybe not even until tomorrow. He has to do a funeral for someone in our church tomorrow and I don't want to take his focus away from the grieving family. I feel sick, I don't know if it's because of this, or the really crummy weather, or the flu that's going around, or ....
Wed. June 25 afternoon- - The doctor said not to panic. "Let's see what it is first. Actually this is quite a common thing." I'd never heard of it before. I guess it's not what a lot of women would want to talk about. You hear about breast cancer all the time, but not bleeding nipples. I was scheduled for an emergency mammogram, and an appointment with the surgeon the next day. You gotta love those mammograms! Men don't know what They're missing. I was also scheduled for a galactagram. Oh, what fun! For this test the technician tried to thread this little needle like thing thru the milk duct that is causing the trouble. "This won't hurt". WRONG! It didn't want to go in, and it did hurt. At least she didn't keep trying.
Thurs.- nothing showed on the mammogram. The surgeon took a blood sample and set me up for an x-ray for Monday. He said that 90% of these are nothing, but because of my history we should get it checked out a.s.a.p.
He said I'd need a biopsy regardless. We need the x-ray to see where it's coming from, near the surface or down deep. This time I'm not really scared, just concerned. I have plans, and I don't want to put my life on hold again.
July 7 -this is the day of the biopsy. Arrival time at the hospital was 7:45. After a 45 minute wait I went in for surgery, while Henry went out for breakfast. Surgery took about 45 min. the morphine made me sick - again. Went to the recovery room for an hour and a half.
Mon. July 28. - Went to see another plastic surgeon. He examined me and said I would definitely need an expander. My skin is too tight. That would mean 2 surgeries and then nipple reconstruction. I'm suppose to go home and think about it and let him know if this is what I want to do. I don't know if I really want to go through 2 more surgeries.
Oct.15 - YES! This is what I want. After all, it is the next best thing to growing a new one. And in a way it is growing a new one. They put in a flat balloon type of thing and fill it up over a few weeks, hence the name "expander". He asked if I was happy with the size of my remaining side. "Yea. Why?" "We could reduce that one at the same time if I wanted to." "There's not really all that much there, and if we did reduce it there wouldn't be any reason to grow a new one, would there?" He ignored my sarcasm and said it usually takes 9 to 10 months for an opening at the hospital to do this procedure. We'll have it done in Nanaimo. That would make it in July or August. That's a long time to sit and think about it and change my mind.
Thurs. Jan. 22,1998 - The Dr's office called. "Do you want to go in next week? There has been a cancellation on Wed. and if we can get the prosthesis in time we can go ahead with it, if it is a good time for you". "Yes. It's a good time." They will call tomorrow and let me know for sure. I know a lot of people who would say "Why bother? Only a really vain person would go through with the reconstruction." Sure it's easy for them to say. They have a matching pair. I want a matching pair. I want to feel normal. Balanced. I also know people who say, "Operate all you want, you'll never be normal Sue. Never have been, never will be." They're probably right. At least I'll be able to put the socks back on my feet where they belong.
Mon. The expander won't be here in time for this week, but it will be ordered anyway, so it will be here for the next opening. I'm a little disappointed, but .....I'm so good at waiting, it won't mater.
Wed. Feb 11 - "There is an opening on the 18th. Can you come in?" "Yes." I have to call them on Tuesday, the day before surgery, and find out what time they want me. I'm kind of excited.
The plastic surgeon ordered an e.k.g. to be done the day before surgery. I have to be at the hospital at 7:15a.m. for surgery. I think that is cruelty!! We'll have to leave the house around 5:30 to 6:00. I have a bit of a cough but they told me I'd have to wait to see the anesthetist to see if it would be a problem. Since it's not a bad cough it shouldn't make any difference.
Wed. I'm still coughing but it's not bad. The Dr. says it isn't bad enough to worry about. A deep cough with stuff coming up would make the difference. We got to the Hospital at 7:00 a.m. and got called upstairs at 7:50, but the Doctor still wasn't there. I still don't like waiting, but at least they were getting me ready so when he finally did come in I would be ready. The nurses told Henry he could go have breakfast and come back at noon to take me home. I was kind of hoping he would at least stay around until I was out of the room, but no he was gone in a flash. They asked me the usual questions, I gave the usual answers. I told them that morphine made me sick so they gave me a bracelet saying I was allergic to the stuff. I got to wear the coveted hospital gown, robe and slippers. But I was kind of disappointed I didn't get a hair net! Maybe it was because they would cover my head once I was out. I didn't really care at the time. After about half an hour the anesthetist talked to me and said he would be giving me half my insulin with sugar water and a different painkiller, Demerol. Plus Gravol for nausea. By then the doctor had arrived and took me in another room and drew lines all over my chest in black felt. I was a little nervous by then and said I sure hoped I was doing the right thing. He said most women want to feel normal again after the surgery I had. I asked "You're good at this, right? Is there going to be a lot of pain?" The two questions I should have asked days ago. He didn't brag about how good he was. He didn't say how much pain to expect. But he did ask if I was having second thoughts. "YES!!! But I'm ready. Let's go." We went into the surgery room right away. They did the usual things - strapped me down, put in the IV and off to sleepy land I went. The next thing I knew they were pulling the tube out of my throat and trying to wake me up. My eyes were saying "NO WAY." The nurse was saying "Do you have any pain?" "Yes" They kept telling me to wake up, but my eyes kept saying, "We don't think so!" Then one of them, a nurse, not my eye, had the bright idea to raise the head of my bed. "I need a bucket. Now!" Finally just before noon they moved me to a chair, thinking that if I sat up I would wake up faster. I could barely talk. I think it was because of the tube they had just taken out of my throat. I felt awful. Someone brought me a cup of tea but one sip and I had to ask for a bucket again. So maybe it wasn't the morphine that made me sick after all. I really felt sorry for the people in the room trying to eat their lunch.
I went in to see the doctor the following week just for a checkup. So he could see how I was healing, and what a wonderful job he had done. Everything was fine.
March 19. One week after the expander was put in I started having my saline injections. I was getting some shape back. Even tho' it was a little higher than the normal one it's okay, because at least it's something. I was a little sore for a few hours that day, but nothing very bad. Not enough to stop me from doing what I wanted to do.
March 26, one week later. Since I had virtually no pain the last time the doctor decided maybe I should have a little more this time. YIKES!!! I was in real pain by the time I got down to the car. I could hardly move. I didn't do much but lay in bed and moan and groan for a few days after that one. I seriously thought about going to emergency and asking them to take some out, but I didn't. I'm tough I can handle it. Yea, right! Whine, Whine. I was suppose to go back the next week for another injection, but I didn't think I was ready, so I postponed it and I skipped the next week because of Easter weekend. He didn't seem to mind.
April 16, My third injection. I gave him a really bad time, because I was so sore after the last one, he said I should have just came right back and had him take some out. "No one should ever be that sore." I didn't realize I had that option. I wish he would have said something sooner. When I started to feel a little sore after this one he took some out right away. Boy was I relived.
April 30, My fourth and last expansion treatment. No pain at all this time. All right!!! He wanted to see me again around the end of June, but I'll be out of town then so it will have to wait for another month.
July 24, 1998 Everything looks good. The doctor says we will wait until the fall to put the permanent implant in. I didn't want it in any sooner anyway. I have things to do in the summer. If we time it right I'll get out of raking leaves in the fall. That would be good. I think I could handle that.
No such luck! I had the permanent one put in, after the raking season, of course. It felt good to be this far along with the whole thing. The implant was a little high, but at least I had a pair again. Not exactly a matching pair, but a pair. A few months later I went in for the rest of the reconstruction, the finishing touches. Well, not the finishing, but near the finishing. The doctor did lower the implant, and it did feel and look better. Not that I'm going to go out and show it off to anyone. Then came the tattoo, and a little zig-zag on the scar, to loosen it up. And now I'm done. I don't think most people notice that I have a fake side and a normal side. Not too many people would say anything if they did notice.
Life is near normal now, whatever normal is. It helps me feel better, not as self-conscious all the time like before. Sometimes I wish it did look and feel more normal, but basically I'm happy with the way things turned out. Hair on my head and socks on my feet. What more could I ask for?
The nightmare has ended.
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"Whether women are better than men I cannot say, but I can say they are certainly no worse." — Golda Meir"Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient. " 
T-Birds, on the run, rah, rah, rah. them, conquer all!
A Slice of Heaven By Fred Carino Yeah. Bidwell Bar was a really neat slice of heaven. The water was fast and COLD. Didn't go there much in my teens, mostly when still very young. Recall the diving board and I believe older kids jumping off the bridge until chased off by the rangers... ♦ Comments John Wagener: Some of us Farley St. boys hunted the "rock pile", the old gold dredgings, over accross the highway with our 22's or shotguns hunting rabbits, quail, dove, ducks, and occasionally pheasant. Our rock piles were in between Farley St. (1/2 mile west of LPHS) and the Railroad Switch yard. We often would give the catch to some of the hobos. For a time, we had use of one of the shacks out there, as the pensioner that built it said it was haunted, so he built another one down the trail. We would cook stuff up that we had bagged. During the summer, we went huntin' a lot. Steve Jeffries: The road to that bridge was off of Cherokee Road. I remember that the swimming hole there was over 20 feet deep (I scuba dived there). There were several large rocks to jump off of...the highest about 50 feet above the water. Ron Vargas would stand on the highest point of the bridge...80 feet or so and do a flip or two in his dives. Ron and I spent a whole day there, went to his house, down by the R.R. Roundhouse, and his parents just moved away. Found out later they moved to Modesto. Ron moved into a home on Virginia St. and they helped him through LP.
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