Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes....

How do you measure a year in the life?

I measured it in ultrasounds and biopsies, black masses, and sinking feelings.

I measured in it terror-filled hyperventilating half-breaths,
sleepless nights,
early mornings, deep breathing and doctors visits.

I measured it in MRI's and EKG's, blood tests, urine tests, blood sugar tests, finger pricks, and baby kicks.

I measured it in 16 rounds of chemo, hair strands falling out, rainbows of bandanas, and pre-natal non-stress tests.

I measured it in confused stares, loud whispers, grasped hands and prayers.

I measured it in perfect baby girl first cries, in surgery, in CT scans, in pathology reports, in interminable medical bills.

I measured it in help from strangers, kind words, unknown prayers and donor milk.

I measured it in rainy days, grey clouds, heat waves, and electric purple sunsets.

I measured it in stifled shower sobs,
in laughs with chemo nurses,
in baby toes and late night feedings.

I measured it in 33 days of radiation, deep burns, painful cries and peeling skin.

I measured it in a 38th birthday, a 49th for my husband, and an awesome 3rd birthday for my boy.

I measured it in stupid cruel comments, in beautiful gestures, in buckets of tears, oceans of hugs, and yes, cups of coffee.

I measured it in long walks with baby, laughs with my boy, hugs with my husband, and love from family and friends.

I measured it in renewed dreams, hungry views of travel, terrified glances over my shoulder, tentative plans for the future.

That's how I measured a year.

Radiation follow-up

Well, I was all set to write this post about the auspicious hat trick of dates when I ended my radiation treatments tomorrow on my son's birthday.. how my treatments had all started or ended right on or around important dates. But alas, I will not finish until likely next Wednesday - I am peeling too much and want some of this brand-new-as-a-baby's-butt skin to toughen up at least a little bit before the last three zap sessions so I told them I wasn't coming back until Monday. Still close to Jack's birthday, but still. Anyway, because I wanted to follow up and gross everyone out, here's a picture of what most of the peeling looks like - and this is actually good compared to what it was.

Still red on the chest and super super itchy.

 



Pretty gross...not the cool kind of peeling after a one day sunburn kind of peel, this is thick layers coming off...

 

The gross close up, so you can share my pain :)


Okay, I promise tomorrow will be a lovely post with pretty pictures and no more grossness..for now.

Updates.

My skin has degraded considerably since the last post so doing anything has been difficult and painful. It takes me enough energy throughout the day just to tolerate picking up the baby and then concentrating on not dropping her. Cannot wait for this part to be done, over with, and healed. Additionally, because I like to do many difficult things at once, like get pregnant and have cancer, baby and major surgery, etc. etc, I am also in the midst of getting ready for Jack's third birthday party this weekend. To be honest, I had no idea radiation would effect me like this and did not expect this at all, so this was just a bad coincidence.

In other news, had to mention this on the donor milk front. I have been ecstatic to keep Amelia in donor milk past six months, but have been hoping to make it to a year. I would hate for her to not have what Jack had, especially with what she contended with. But again, it's donor milk,  donated, not coming from me, so I am happy that we have made it as far as we have with her and forever grateful that Erin, my milk mama extraordinaire who coordinates this for me has done all of this work so far. That being said, we were lacking about two weeks ago, I mean down to the last two bags. All of a sudden, I don't know how Erin found her or vice versa, but this mama up in the LA area told her she had a one time donation - she had been pumping for her twins but they developed food allergies and couldn't use the milk. Erin happened to be going to a family member's graduation in the area and it was kismet. We were not, however, expecting this.

 

 

 

That freezer is filled to the absolute top with milk. There were even a few more bags that needed to go in our house freezer because the deep freeze was completely full. That should be good to keep baby going for about two months, which puts us that much closer to the year goal. Holy shamoley balls. Thank you mama, whomever you are.

 

Okay, I'm off to make more Mickey ears, which I will post pictures of along with the tutorial where I found the idea. Stay tuned.

Radiation 101

I thought I'd do a little post about radiation because as I thought about it, it's one of those hidden, unglamorous things about cancer that the average person probably doesn't know too much about. Heck, I sat down with my radiation doctor for an hour and still didn't really know what to expect. I knew about the burns, the fatigue, and the possible side effects, especially being a left-sided patient (unfortunately where your heart resides so there's always a remote possibility of heart damage in the future). But I still didn't really understand what happens, and it's a common refrain I've heard from my fellow cancer peeps. I mean, really, you see people receiving chemo in movies and TV - if it's lighthearted, then it's Samantha eating popcicles with the girls, having a few hot flashes and drinking a cosmo. If it's dramatic, it's somebody hunched over a toilet, puking their guts out as chunks of hair coat the bathroom floor. The truth is somewhere in the middle, but at least it's protrayed. The only time you are exposed to radiation - pun intended - is either Cher getting scrubbed down as the alarms blare (am I dating myself here?) or Russian sailors basically melting before your eyes after trying to fix the leaking reactor. Cancer radiation isn't movie-worthy. It's boring and it's slow (reaction-wise, you don't really have most effects until the last week or two), there are no cool IV's to show...there's just a big huge machine that makes a sound like an x-ray, and then you go home. So here's a quick synopsis of what the radiation train is like.

You can see the redness on my chest and neck here.

First, you start with a CT scan, or some similar procedure. I actually had two, one to see if the cancer in my inoperable lymph node was gone, which it was, and then a second one, which everyone has, which is basically the map on which your plan will be implemented. All of the radiation oncology doctors confer, come up with a plan based on I'm sure, many factors, and then it all goes into a computer and the plan is mapped out. You then go in for x-rays, to make sure you still line up with the plan, you get some tattoos (not in the places I expected, I have three across my mid-line, one near my armpit, and I think there may be one somewhere else. They are just pinpoints, not the ink I like. :) Then you go in prior to your first treatment to make sure that the machine is calibrated correctly to you and that all of your points match up. Then you start. You go in, they line you up with the coordinates, and it starts. They put a bolus on you, which is a gel-type pad that keeps the radiation beams at the surface of the skin. I get zapped 4 times, for about 10 seconds each. There are these metal "teeth" in the machine that move around and open up to the shape that needs to be radiated, and then it happens. The table raises high, you are about 5 feet up in the air, and there are lasers all over the room, but you don't see the radiation beams, and you don't feel them. Some people say they feel a bit of heat, I actually felt a bit the first few times, but not after that. The number of treatments varies depending on more numerous factors, including cancer type, stage, age, aggressiveness, location, etc. etc. I am scheduled for 33 treatments, 28 regular treatments and 5 boosts (boosts are radiation treatments that are concentrated only along the scar line, a place where cancer can often recur). The treatments go from the bottom of my neck to a bit under my bra line, from the center of my chest to the mid-line of my rib cage. I started the boosts yesterday, even though I have two more regular treatments, because over the holiday weekend all of the radiation seemed to catch up with me and my underarm is very burnt and painful, so hopefully this rest will let it heal a slight bit and I can make it through the last two next week. Considering how very fair I am and how I got red so quickly, I'm still doing okay comparatively, but damn it hurts!


Showing the huge contrast of my butt white skin and the red burnt underarm...

Just because I know you wanted to see a close up :)