Relief

Did you hear that deep, deep sigh yesterday around 11:30 AM Eastern? That was me and TheDad after we met with the very personable surgeon at the cancer center. Under the circumstances, we got the best possible news.

The tumor (what's left of it) is in a place that is easy to access. It is not in, on or near any organs and it has not spread anywhere. Next Friday he will have it removed in a same-day surgery.

After he recovers from the surgery he will begin radiation treatment. There will not be chemo because chemo doesn't work on this type of tumor. Beyond that he will just need regular imaging to see if anything has returned but with this type of tumor the chances of it returning are pretty slim.

I am ever grateful for your prayers and support. I feel like the really hard part is over now. We have a game plan, and we have assurance that the tumor is contained.

How's It Going?

I get asked that a lot.

I look like I'm perfectly fine, except during a hot flash (at least a dozen a day) when I more closely resemble a tomato.

As of last Wednesday, I am allowed behind the wheel.

That's where the trouble started.

When you tell someone like me that she can get back behind the wheel, she will probably go right back to her old tricks:  6 errands in one morning because 3 of them were "on the way."

I'm not doing anything I'm not allowed to do, but I seem to be doing too much of the stuff that I am allowed to do.

And therefore, even though I look perfectly fine on the outside, I'm exhausted by this point in the afternoon--even on a day when I don't do too much.

I think I was better off when I wasn't allowed to drive, because I was necessarily limited in things I could do by where I could do things.  Clearly I am way too much of a Type A personality to do recuperation well.

TheDad is awfully good about the fact that he called last night at 7:30 and asked me to have the kids turn on the pool filter, waking me up when the phone rang--and then I hung up the phone and completely forgot about the pool.  "You're still healing," he reminds me patiently.

I keep forgetting about that until I find myself trying to stay awake at 3 in the afternoon and know that the next 6 hours are going to be a struggle.

Because really, except for the scar, which is always covered by my clothing, I look perfectly fine on the outside.

You know what I'm learning?  You can't judge someone who is ambling across a parking lot, right in your path.  You can't assume that because they look perfectly fine on the outside, they're fine on the inside too.  You can't assume that walking doesn't hurt them or that they have the energy to walk faster than that.

I hope I remember that even when I do have the energy to walk faster.

This Time Tomorrow...

I just keep telling myself, "this time tomorrow, it'll all be over."

I'm called for 11:00 at the hospital, for a 1:30 surgery time.  It's clear liquids only, all day today, and nothing after midnight.  Not even water.

My neighbor kindly offered to feed the rest of my family so that I wouldn't have to cook/clean up/smell/watch them all eat dinner.  I'm sitting here with a mug full of nutritious, yet boring, homemade chicken stock.  Or maybe turkey.  I use those interchangeably.  I have the broth in the mug with the picture of a Hershey Kiss on it, vainly hoping that the placebo effect will kick in and make it taste more like chocolate and less like, well, chicken.

My handy-dandy new pocket rosary will be coming along for the ride and I'm sure it will see plenty of praying action this week.

I'm going to have TheDad update my Facebook and Twitter (@franciscanmom) after surgery, but I probably won't be back in this space until I have access to a computer or iPad.  That may wait until I'm home.

You all have my deepest gratitude for each and every prayer and word of encouragement that you have already offered.  Please keep on praying!

You've Gotta Know the Territory

So I've got the marching orders.  I will be marching into the hospital on Monday, April 16 for surgery and will be in the hospital for 3 or 4 days.  After that, there will be recovery at home.

That means people will be "on my turf."  I'm a very territorial, very independent person.  I don't like other people cooking in my kitchen and taking care of jobs that are supposed to be mine.  (Heck, I don't even like people drinking out of my glass.  My husband completely doesn't get that, but that's how I am.)

The night after I met with my surgeon, I had all these dreams about people being in my way.  I couldn't do anything--even go to sleep--without having people in my path.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was about.

The territory thing, and the needing-assistance thing, are a much bigger concern to me than the actual medical reasons behind this surgery.  I hate asking anyone for help.  I hate that I will need help (a good bit of it, most likely).  I hate that someone else is going to have to drive the kids, cook the meals, wash the laundry, sweep the floor.  Sometimes my own kids will be helping with some of those jobs.  Some of them will fall to TheDad.  And my mom has already announced that she'll be here for a week.

The last time she came here to help me after surgery, she scrubbed my floor on her hands and knees.  I hated that.  If she does it again, I will hate it again.  I know that in the scheme of things I am very, very blessed to (a) still have a mom, (b) have a mom healthy enough to help me, (c) have a mom who is currently in her 3rd or 4th retirement (clearly she is Bret Favre's role model in this regard) so she's free to come and help me, (d) have a mom who wants to come and help me, and (e) have a dad who's willing to drive Mom 125 miles each way so she can come and help me.

I'm really not much in the mood, right now, to let perspective get in the way of my pity party.  Except for the cleaning-of-the-house part, I'm going to miss what I do for my family.  I'm going to miss the cooking and the laundry (especially now that I can hang it outside again) and planting my little herb garden since I was partially successful with it last year and even the driving.  I'm going to miss the writing, since I'm taking some time off from my freelance jobs while I recover.  I'm going to miss playing and singing at church, since Easter was the last time I'll get to do that for a while.

I was reminded today that allowing others to help me opens the door for them to receive grace through their practice of the corporal works of mercy.  I guess, right now, that is as good as it'll get.

Meanwhile, you are not allowed in my kitchen until after I walk out of here on Monday.  It is my territory, and I will chase you.

A Litany of Gratitude

I'm not going to lie; I'm worried about how my appointment with the surgeon is going to go today. I've got a whole bunch of questions to ask.  I wrote them down so I don't forget.  As long as I remember to bring that paper with me, it's all good.

The closer I get to my appointment, the more anxious I get.  The more anxious I get, the more prickly I get.  Right now I'm practically a porcupine.  My poor husband gets the worst of it, and the guy really doesn't need any more stress than he's already got.  I'm pretty sure they should take his blood pressure at the doctor's office today.  Today, I am grateful that he puts up with me when I get like this.

Today, I am grateful that he stayed up half the night working so he can leave the office early and come with me to this appointment.  Even though I act like I want to be all independent and everything, he doesn't take no for an answer when it really counts.

Today, I am grateful for a friend who rearranged the Chess Club Carpool.  It was my turn to drive today, but she's taking that shift.  This way, Little Brother doesn't have to miss his favorite after-school activity.

Today, I am grateful for my neighbor who will be home when Little Brother gets here; if we're not back yet, he can hang out at her house, do his homework and play with her kids until we get home.

Today, I am grateful that my appointment has been moved to 2:00 instead of the original 3:00.  This means we'll have a better chance of beating rush hour on the way home.  Rush hour in Philly can be a bit terrifying.

Today, I am grateful that Middle Sister will be traveling to a track meet after school, even though she's recovering from an injury and can't run yet.  She's got team spirit and she's going to be there to encourage her friends.

Today, I am grateful that Little Brother thinks of everything.

Today, I am grateful for a doctor who listens and who takes my concerns and observations seriously enough to send me to a specialist she considers the best in the business.

Today, I am grateful for the prayers of my parents, family members, cousins, and friends near and far.

Awaiting My Marching Orders

A tale of woe, told in as many cliches as I can dredge up.

I'm in a bit of a holding pattern these days.  After nearly 2 years of post-hysterectomy complications, which have resulted in (in no particular order) regularly-scheduled pain and bleeding, visits to 2 different GYN-oncologists, 2 MRIs, 1 CAT scan, innumerable ultrasounds of the invasive variety, a few rather unpleasant tests at the urologist's, 1 burst ovarian cyst resulting in 1 missed Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert, and 1 cyst drained "just in time" of 1/2 liter of fluid, my GYN has finally decided that it's time to shut down the rest of the system.  The plan is to remove my ovaries to cut off the estrogen supply that's feeding my endometriosis.

I have a cyst larger than my own fist in my left abdomen (they always show up on the left.)  It's painful, and it takes up a good amount of space.  Hence the wearing of the sweat pants (or, as Little Brother insists on calling them, athletic pants) as much as possible unless I have to actually get out of the car, in which case I suffer through the wearing of the jeans.

Frankly, I'm going to be glad to get this over with.  Even though it means going to a hospital with "Cancer" in its name.  I have not been diagnosed with cancer, but my GYN says that this doctor is the best surgeon to deal with the type of problems I'm having.  I keep telling myself that when I freak out a little bit about the name of the hospital.  I keep telling my husband that when he freaks out about the name of the hospital.  And I hope that none of my kids check the caller ID on the phone, because the word "Cancer" comes up in the name when I get the robo-call to confirm my appointment.

On Tuesday afternoon I'll see the surgeon and receive my marching orders.  Until then, I have no time frame, no plan.  Anyone who knows me knows how crazy that makes me.  I'm guessing that something is going to happen soon, because my GYN said that they'll want to take care of that cyst before it explodes on its own.  It could be done separately, or together--whatever the specialist decides.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (or more accurately, back at the split-level), I've got a part-time writing gig that would have to go on hiatus, I've got arrangements to make for leadership at Secular Franciscan meetings, I've got kids to drive around, I've got "work to be done--an estate to be run--a boy to raise."  Other than laundry and cooking, the bare minimum is getting done around here because physical stuff like scrubbing, vacuuming, mopping and taking down curtains is painful.  If I feel good enough, I do it.  Otherwise, I let it go.  There's been a good amount of letting it go lately.  There have been afternoon naps, probably because I'm a little too keyed up to sleep well at night.  There's been a lot of comfort eating.

I don't feel like baking cookies, I don't want to start up another sourdough starter, and there's no use making a meal plan for April when I don't know what April's going to bring or when it's going to bring it.  Other than Instant Menopause--I know I'm going to get that after the surgery.  Won't that be fun for everyone lucky enough to live with me?

Meanwhile, I wait, and I worry.  I go to the high-school musical to take my mind off things (50 kids tap-dancing on the biggest stage in the county will do that for you).  On Tuesday, I'll drive to Philly and find out how things are going to go.  And then I'll drive home in rush-hour traffic and get on with it.

Why I'm Thankful Today

Today didn't start out so great, but I do have plenty to be thankful for. I wasn't feeling well yesterday so most of the afternoon was spent on the couch with the heating pad. Fortunately I have a laptop so I was able to get my work done. Also fortunately, I have a husband who can turn a blind eye to a fair amount of clutter that happens when I don't bother getting after the kids who've left a "Hansel and Gretl" trail of shoes, sandals, sweatshirts, novels, pretzel bags, jars of change, school projects and books for projects-in-progress all over the place. I also, fortunately, have a husband who is more than willing to take us to the Chinese buffet when I confess that I'm just not in the mood to cook any dinner.

So there were dishes to wash this morning before I could have coffee (I needed a clean coffee cup, after all). It's never fun to wake up and find dishes in the sink. But Little Brother got fed, dressed, combed, and out the door with a minimum of drama. Middle Sister did not miss the bus or forget her lunch.

I missed daily Mass because I had a GYN appointment. Not my yearly (that's coming up in 3 weeks) but a visit because I've been having problems. Again. Silly me for thinking that the hysterectomy would take care of all the problems.

The nurse weighed me before she took my blood pressure. BIG mistake.

The doctor kept me waiting for an hour. But then she kept other patients waiting while she listened to my concerns, asked detailed questions about my symptoms, checked on dates, reviewed past test results, and settled on a plan for where we go from here. I felt like I had been heard and that my concerns were respected.

So I left the doctor's office two full hours after my appointment time. (Good thing I had my Kindle with me!) I was two blocks from the mall, and I decided to run in and check to see if the shoes I had seen on sale last time I was there were still available. Hey, a little retail therapy never hurts. Especially when shoes are involved. As luck would have it, the shoe rack at the Lands' End Shop in Sears had ONE pair left of my "old faithful" sneakers--and they were in my size. Even better, they were on super clearance: $55 sneakers marked down to $6.99. AND they had ONE pair of a slightly dressier boat shoe left, again in my size, again marked down to $6.99 from $50.

I may have 3 medical appointments scheduled within the next 3 weeks, but at least my feet will look good when I get there.

I'll Take My Chances

High-fructose corn syrup is no longer the latest scapegoat when it comes to American obesity. According to a study conducted at Northwestern University, Bible study can make you fat.

Researchers mention "the sedentary nature of prayer" as a possible culprit.

There's always The Rosary Workout.

Parents, pray that your kids don't pay attention to the "news." This story is all over the place today. If they see it, they'll have more ammo in the "But church is so boooooooooooring" battle. Now they'll tell you that it'll make them fat.

I'll take that risk. And I think my kids will be better for it.

It Still Ain't Over

Since I'm still experiencing a fair amount of discomfort after Saturday's horrible backache worked its way to diffuse lower abdominal pain and hung around all of Sunday and today, I went to the doctor today. After waiting 45 minutes to be seen (good thing I had a Kindle to keep myself entertained!) the doctor ordered blood work and a stat CAT scan.

That will be tomorrow's fun (the CAT scan.) Got the blood drawn right then and there. I had an abdominal ultrasound a month ago, following up on this summer's procedure, but I'd never heard the results from the gynecologist (even after I called last week to ask about them). My internist thinks that this very well could be related, and went after those ultrasound results herself. Then she called me at home to tell me she'd gotten them and that, yes, the cyst is back and almost as big as it was late last spring. I'll know more after the CAT scan, I'm guessing.

Meanwhile, my mother is armchair-quarterbacking the doctor who did not remove my ovaries when I had the hysterectomy in January--even though she (a hysterectomy patient herself) knows exactly why they don't routinely do that. I should be working right now, but I'm not in the mood. At the moment, I'm thinking that Haagen-Dasz is a better idea.

Welcome to my pity party. In the scheme of things, I'm lucky that this is all the problems I am having. But I'm asking for your prayers anyway!

It Ain't Over

...till it's over.

This morning I'm heading to the hospital for an outpatient procedure to drain a large cyst that has developed on (or near) my left ovary. Apparently it's the size of a softball.

The doctor hopes that one it's drained it will be done and I won't have to worry about it anymore. There will be ultrasound followups periodically, and if the cyst returns I will have to have it surgically removed.

This all should be easy, but prayers will be appreciated!

UPDATE: Thank you! 1/2 liter of fluid (that's a water bottle, folks) has been removed. I can no longer feel a lump in my abdomen. I'm sleepy, but definitely happy to be home and grateful for the prayers and my comfy couch.

That's a Relief

I went for that followup mammogram this morning and the radiologist gave me the results right then and there. I'm fine. Everything is normal. Come back next year for my regularly-scheduled scan.

So it's all back to what passes for normal around here--shuttling kids around, avoiding dust bunnies, trying to clean off my desk, and ordering a pizza for dinner tonight because the kitchen-sink drain is pouring water into the cabinet below.

Fortunately, we keep our "recycle bucket" there, so the only thing that got wet was a bunch of empty cans. Now there's an empty bucket there. But hey, it's an excuse not to cook (or clean up) when I'm feeling lazy. Yes, I have called for a plumber.

Spiritual Exercise

All that recuperating I've been doing this year hasn't been so great for my waistline. So with the beautiful weather today, I knew that I had to just get out and get walking.

Walking by itself, though, is pretty boring. Unfortunately, there's no one around to be my walking buddy, so I decided that this would be a good opportunity for me to get caught up on the podcasts I keep downloading but don't always get a chance to listen to. So I grabbed a string bag to hold my cell phone, ID, house key and iPod, as well as a bottle of water, and I cued up a two-week-old edition of Among Women, since I've gotten a little behind in listening lately.

Boy, did I luck out. Pat Gohn began the podcast with a discussion about St. Bernadette--how appropriate that I'm listening to her story in May, the month of Mary! And then I got to hear an interview with Laraine Bennett, whose books on temperament are both fascinating and useful. In fact, I want to dive back into them, because I think that a little refresher course will help me understand my kids better. A little awareness of temperament is a really good thing in family relationships.

So now, I'm looking forward to tomorrow's walk! I wonder what I'll get to hear next.

Sarah's on the same page as me--last week she had a guest blogger, the author of The Rosary Workout. Sounds intriguing--especially in May!

I Have to Think of These Things Now

Two of my kids have "well-child visits" scheduled with their doctor this afternoon. Middle Sister's visit will include the doctor's signing of athletic participation forms for the spring track season. Since she has already received medical forms for high-school sports, I called the school nurse to ask if the doctor could fill those out today as well.

My sister said that the sports physical for next year has to be after July 1, but our school nurse said that today's physical will take her right through the end of next school year (that's right, including spring sports in 2011!)

That's great news as far as I'm concerned, not only because I save the fee our doctor charges for filling out these forms outside of an appointment, but because, well, I'm just not certain that at this time next year, health care will be as accessible as it is today.

Middle Sister glanced at the newspaper headlines today and asked me what the health-care reform bill meant. I explained a little bit about what rationed care means. I told her that if someone got sick, the decision about whether that person should receive certain treatments, medications, or surgeries would become less and less the decision of that person's doctor and more and more the decision of the health-care system (ultimately, the U.S. government.) I gave the example of a woman we know who recently passed away after her third bout of cancer in ten years--all after the age of 75. Would she have received chemo that second and third time around?

She thought about that for a minute and decided that it's in her best interests to stay healthy.

I have friends in Canada who can't call their primary-care doctor or child's pediatrician and get a "sick visit" on the same day. And I am grateful to live here in the U.S. where I can schedule a same-day "sick visit" if one is needed. Access to health care is not something I take for granted. And now that the government is going to be in charge of it, I'm not sure it's even something I can count on.

Bumper sticker pictured above available at zazzle.com.