Sleep

I finally slept for the first time in weeks. I shut myself in last night, woke up nearly 12 hours later. Oops...in pain, so I had 1/2 a pill.
I took a shower last night and hooray! the Bride of Frankenstein scars are gone! Instead, I have thin lines without even stitches. Oh, I am so happy. I honestly had been worried that I would have to sue to get my scars removed. They are gone!
I was thinking of having Ian create a tattoo design to hide the thin lines. What I want is like a spinning chakra design that goes around the breast. I have a scar at 6, 4 and 2 o'clock positions, so I thought the design could start with the root chakra at the 6 and move up to the crown chakra at the 12 o'clock.
I went to bed with wet hair and planned to wake up a few hours later to watch "Battlestar Gallatica" (only 4 more episodes!) I woke up with bizarro hair, but well rested for once.
The opiates keep me awake, the not being able to lie comfortably keeps me awake, the cats acting out because I am sick keeps me awake, my neighbor getting up at 5 am keeps me awake.
Tuesday at 8:45 I will get the pathology report and hope it will be good. The last time, I didn't worry because I felt if it's bad news, they usually call you immediately. But I had to wait a week for news of my last cancer, because the surgeon wanted to get several extra opinions. Phyllodes is a rare cancer, after all, and most doctors are anxious to deal with it. I honestly spend more time holding the doctor's hands and telling them that it's ok.

Donuts!

So, I'm checking my mail tonight and what's there but the lament of Lent and the sacrificial non-eating of donuts. Not doughnuts, like a little fry cake or something somewhat healthy, but donuts, with mega sugar, fat, the kind Homer likes. Donuts.

I never eat donuts, but you have to understand that because I cannot eat after midnight tonight and cannot drive for a week after that, I start to get food obsessed. Like on Christmas, when you know the stores are closed tomorrow and you might want___ so you better get it now, even if you never want it, you better get it now.

And everyone starts talking about donuts. The Dunkin here closes at 10, so I know, I've got to get the donuts. I buy 1 dozen chocolate cream and eat 3.

God bless it, don't talk to me about donuts, especially about not eating donuts, cause it makes me crazy.
I honestly believe it giving in to crazed obsessive thoughts, because otherwise they Bloom into real white knuckled thoughts.
So I ate the donuts and got it out of my system.
Please don't anyone talk to me about food for the next week.

The Compact

It's funny, because I collect 20th century compacts, those metal containers of makeup and mirrors
women used to use to "freshen up" I love them because they are simple and affordable and they
express a girly blingness, the sparkily the better. They're cool and they don't break the bank. Then I found a different type of compact and it changed my life.
On 1/8/2008, there was an article in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune about a different Compact, a group of people in San Franciso, who made a compact, or a group vow, not to buy anything new for one year. The article was e-mailed to me in a sort of backhanded, "Here, look at these weirdos, you'll fit right in". I immediately joined the yahoo group of the compact and I did fit right in.
Now, there are over 10,000 members of the compact and only about 30 of us who post regularly, and a few hundred irregularly. Many have blogs, like the non-consumer advocate, where they write about like post-consumer.
Now, I will admit, I am not post-consumer. Potsdam does not have the resources for me to do so. There is no public transportation to speak of and no local goodwills. The closest decent market is in Massena and the freecycle does not have enough folks to give us all used stuff here. I do get some things and I curb my excess in warm weather.
However. my life has massively changed in the past year. I began shopping almost exclusively at Amish stands, farmers markets and the local co-op. My refrigerator, freezer and pantry is full of food, cheaply amassed. I eat only grass fed organic meat and rarely. I make my own detergent and degreaser and wash my hair with baking soda (try it, it's wonderful). I traded working hours to buy my new winter clothes. I walk downtown and to work so much, people have begun picking Arthur and I up and insisting we ride with them.
I am happier, my life feels more in control and I have made the goal to constantly take it further.
Here is article about the original compact http://www.good.is/?p=6390.
We have every type of person, right and left wingers, Christians, Jews, atheists, etc. Suburbanites, city dwellers, homesteaders, country mice, we have it all. One common ingredient, they are all thinking folks, who see things they want to change and by not consuming, they are changing their lives.
The compact has spread all over the country and in many countries.

The

I'm great from now on!

At the library volunteering this Saturday, several people took me aside to ask me how I'm doing. I told them I am great and will be cancer-free by summer.
I am incredibly blessed and lucky to be this way. I think part of it is pure contrariness (I am Aquarius after all) and part is taking part in healing exercises. I would never discount the skill of my surgeons and the technical prowess of today's machines at dealing with cancer. I also do not discount the power of prayer and reiki that has been sent my way.
Let's see if I still feel lucky when radiation starts, but I have summer on my mind.

Wow! rural Surgery is cheap!

Hi! Just got my bill (paid by Blue Cross) for my recent surgery, 3 breast tumors removed. For a private room, a meal, total surgery costs and 2 visits aftercare, $3, 517.24, my share $35. The care at Canton-Potsdam Hospital is great and it's right here in the village.
My insurance paid more than that to remove a loose screw from a bunion surgery in Minneapolis and the care was, well, well meaning and big city. That was with a skeleton crew and only local anaesthesia.

Charity Appeal

My paperbackswap.com friend is doing a Cancer Walk in Chicago, IL. Here is the info:

http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk2009/Chicago?px=4561889&pg=personal&fr_id=1780&et=e_1HwuFjVQweHiScxeC2bQ..&s_tafId=334406

She is looking for donations and they can be small. I gave her two book credits and she's auctioning them off on the PBS site. See if you can help her out and give to a good cause.
She also is the MC of the annual American Idol contest, where, as of last night, I am tied for first place (with about 12 others).

Why a Duct? Because it's Duct Carcinoma in Situ

Well, that title does not make sense, unless you've seen Marx Brothers films. So, the vast majority of the Earth's population, will now say Huh?
Anyway, I have cancer Number 2. in another breast. (Would I have infinite amount of cancers for infinite amounts of breasts? What if I were a pig or dog? That's a lot of cancers).
Cancer number 2 is duct cancer in situ, stage 0, bordering on 1. In situ, latin for in place, means, it's in a milk duct and not moving or spreading. Just sitting. Small and hard, calcified, 2 centimeters of cancer.
Kind of creepy to have some tiny malignancy, just sitting in a alleyway of one's breast.
The thought is to have radiation and have no cancer by Summer.
That's the plan.

Phyllodes Tumor Renewed: or A New leaf

I have Phyllodes Saracoma and have had it since the late 70's. It is a rare form of breast cancer. It is called phyllodes from the Greek word for leaf, because when the sections are cut, they look like leaves.
In plain English:
Phyllodes tumors are a fibroepithelial tumor composed of an epithelial and a cellular stromal component. They may be considered benign, borderline, or malignant depending on histologic features including stromal cellularity, infiltration at the tumor's edge, and mitotic activity. All forms of phyllodes tumors are considered breast cancer, as even the benign form is regarded as having malignant potential.
Got it?
All right, for a translation. Phyllodes tumors are big tumors that appear out of nowhere, are big and fast growing and, did I mention, big. One day you wake up and you have a grapefruit sized tumor inside your breast. It doesn't hurt or itch or spread to other parts of the body. It's just big and annoying. Really annoying, mostly for the having to adjust the bra straps every 5 minutes to keep the blob in my bra from sticking out.
Less than 1% of all breast tumors are phyllodes. The common treatment for phyllodes is wide local excision. Other than surgery, there is no cure for phyllodes, as chemotherapy & radiation therapy are not effective.

Here are some cancer stats:

Breast Cancer Statistics

• Excluding cancers of the skin, breast cancer is the most common cancer diagnosed among U.S. women, accounting for more than 1 in 4 cancers.

• Breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death in women, after lung cancer.

• One out of eight American women who live to be 85 years of age will develop breast cancer, a risk that was one out of 14 in 1960.

• 2.4 million women living in the U.S. have been diagnosed with and treated for breast cancer.

• An estimated 182,480 new cases of invasive breast cancer are expected to be diagnosed in American women during 2008. About 1,990 new cases of breast cancer are expected in men. In addition, an estimated 67,770 cases of in situ breast cancer (both DCIS and LCIS) are expected, with 85 percent being DCIS.

• An estimated 40,930 breast cancer deaths are anticipated this year (40,480 women, 450 men).

• The risk of developing breast cancer increases for women whose parent, sibling or child have had the disease.
  

• It has been estimated that 5 percent to 10 percent of breast cancer cases result from inherited mutations or alterations in BRCA1 and BRCA2.
  

• Women who begin menstruating before age 12 are at increased risk of developing breast cancer. The more menstrual cycles a woman has during her lifetime, the more her risk increases.
  

• Patients with private insurance from all racial/ethnic groups are more likely to be diagnosed with stage I breast cancer and less likely to be diagnosed with stage III and IV than those who were uninsured or who had Medicaid insurance. While 89 percent of patients with private insurance survived five years, only 77 percent of uninsured and 75 percent of Medicaid patients passed the five year mark.
  
  

Information from Cancer Facts & Figures 2008, American Cancer Society.

Spring is coming

Soon the ducks will be landing in Lake James, which is created in my backyard each spring due to the runoff from the village dumped snowpiles. The sightings of strange animals and birds will begin. Wolverines, weasels, egrets, teals, geese, ferrets have been spied by various people around the lock. I have seen the weasel, ducks and geese. the rest, I am afraid, live in the world of imagination and early morning shadow.
Last year, there was some predator, mostly underwater, that we were afraid would eat the cats and ducks. I saw glimpses of wet fur and bony limbs.
The lake will be gone by May, when there is nothing left to feed it and the dry sand will be left. Within a month the ants will work where the ducks swam and the mystery creatures will have evaporated with the water.

Yesterday, I became a senior citizen. I am 55 years old and in some ways that makes me a senior.
I have always swore that when I became a senior, I would milk it for all it's worth and that is still true today.
Most older people I know are embarassed of their age, refusing to get the reduced fares, etc. Not I, if there is a deal to be found and I can get it, I will. Happy birthday to me!

Life with Breast Lumps Part One Buffalo, NY

Well, I'll tell you what happened so far. Although going back to my relationship with cancer, I have to go back over 30 years. I had a mass on my right breast and it kept getting larger. No one equated caffeine with breast lumps, so I was a voracious consumer of coffee. The mass kept growing and growing.

I went to Dr. after Dr. in the outland where I lived. Each of the small town Misters, and they were all male at that time, said to me "You're young, it's just a huge lump, it's nothing, don't worry". Except I wanted it out, really wanted it out. I thought it would kill me but I was just another hysterical female.

My life went into deep freeze for several years. I moved home to recover from a health problem, and then my Mother's cancer got serious. So, I stayed and took care of her, dealt with my Father's rages, the isolation of a small town and pressure of being a single woman in my 20's. I spent my days plotting my departure, while doing laundry and bed baths, going to the doctor's and visiting the hospital every day when needed. I was the loyal dog, the one everyone kicked, but who stayed on, determined that I had a job to do. I couldn't walk away from someone who was seriously dying and so the time went.

After my mother's death, I got my license, my job, my apartment, my life back. I went back to college, but I still had the damn mass in my breast. Finally, someone told me to go to Planned Parenthood, not for birth control, but because they had women doctors, who were actually doing things for their patients. I went and the doctor was woman in her 40's, who was astonished and outraged by the fact that I had gone so long without having found anyone to do my surgery.

I was rushed to Buffalo General Hospital, where I was told surgery would happen the next week. I was ecstatic. Everyone around me was horrified. No one really believed how long I had waited for this day, and I became again, another hysterical woman, looking for a doctor to solve all my problems.

In those days, surgery was taken seriously. One entered the hospital for a lengthy stay, both before and after. Convalescence was taken; one got enormous amounts of time off.

The fact that I had no money was of no matter. Lives had to be saved and finances be damned in the old world of medicine. Ultimately, my surgery was so strange, my journey so long to the cutting table, my doctors donated the surgical costs just for the privilege of having such a strange case. My lump, my "grapefruit sized" mass was gone. I felt much better.

Two days later, I was evicted from the hospital, for being too healthy and young, for annoying my older co-patients with my walking, my singing, my radiance. I left with my giant x-rays, my diagnosis of pre-cancer and my life in hand.

The Journey Down the Mountain

I chose the title for this blog, because of a certain vision I was having, as well as the fact of character limitations for blogspot blogs. I wanted it to be "Dispatches from the Frontlines of an Ever Expanding Life that is Heading Down out of Isolation to the Shore of Life".
I was thinking that 2009 was the year for me having a great spiritual and physical journey. Most people would envision spiritual journeys as a trip up a mountain trail, ending in a cloud enshrined Nirvana. My vision of the year was coming out of isolation, out of the cold, out of the lofty and esoteric into the world of physical, the world of co-housing, the world of spiritual communities; a journey from the one to the many.
I had found that my spiritual quests had ended up with me more isolated and alone. I had chosen to move near the mountains, but found them too remote, too cold. I began to long for the warmth of the sun, for shores I hadn't seen before, for the call of gently gliding birds and the sound of waves. Come down from the cold ridges and walk towards the ever-expanding shores of a new life.
So, why not begin a journey by getting one's physical life in store. I had a 25 year relationship with tumors in my right breast, benign, huge, annoying tumors. I had the tumor of great size removed on more than one occasion. Each time, the doctors would warn, "it could be cancer", but it never was... not even close. So I just assumed when it grew back, that it was the same old thing.
But my doctor noticed something...that there was an older under layer of mass under the more substantial globe of tumor. New machines can detect finer areas of trouble in one's body and so it happened here. I had it all removed and the mass was instead of the usual grapefruit, it was the size of a baby's head.
On the other breast, there was spot, a small stable spot that had gotten hard. I had it biopsied with a sonogram and it was benign. So, the thought was to take it out, and oh, while we're there, might as well take out the 2 newer ones that had just appeared. Why not?
Except the new one, the one that we did on a whim, almost just because it was there, turned out to be cancerous.
And so now, my planned wonderful, whirlling, crashing down the mountain, rejoining life, great journey has to be, for a while, a cancer journal. Damn.