Like Rolling off a Blog

"Well, I don't like to toot my own horn, but that looks really good!" No, I did not say that. It is a direct quote from my surgeon, Dr. Beatrice Klade, of the Edward-Elmhurst Medical Group. It's the kind of thing a survivor likes to hear from her surgeon: that the 12-inch scar extending from the underarm to the breast bone has healed so far ... and has closed this chapter in this part of my cancer journey. I say "closed this chapter" because, to the even mildly observant, life is not to be taken for granted. The zero on my Onctotype DX test is fantastic, but it does not preclude a recurrence entirely, nor does it promise that the remaining side won't take off on its own.  The team at E-E has been nothing short of excellent. Caring. Thorough. Empathetic. Accessible. And transparent. But there's more to this journey than just the testing and the surgery. The emotions are part and parcel of the process. And for support there, I thank my frien...

I was attending college when I first started singing the jingle to "Sun In." Remember it? 🎵🎵Sun in and sunlight, and you'll be blonder toniiiiiight!🎵🎵 The best it ever did for me was to turn my ash colored hair a bit redder. More of a strawberry blonde. Then, when I was in my mid thirties, I noticed the dreaded stray gray hairs begin to appear. Over the counter color boosters worked just fine. But by the time I was in my mid forties, I alternated between over the counter color and paying someone to make me look "natural." Assuming "natural" is not gray, of course. So, now I'm sporting a full blown stripe of gray down the middle of my head. There's a fairly good reason for that. I'm pragmatic. I don't like to pay for something that may have a short shelf life. As you are aware, I had a single mastectomy on July 18. I'm not quite three weeks into recovery. The surgery went well. I only have slight aches and pains if I ov...

Right now, Diane is going through my discharge papers, which tell me what kinds of activities I should be doing ... most include the word REST. But others say shoulder rolls and 90-degree arm raises. You know, the hard stuff ... ;-) Really, not supposed to do anything else until given the okay by the surgeon on Monday. Speaking of the surgeon, I was blissfully sitting with my personal comfort dog, Pepito, when the phone rang. It was my surgeon, Dr. Klade (I think this is the first time I've named her.). She said, "I hope I didn't disturb you. I know it's Saturday, and I'll see you on Monday, but I didn't want you to worry until then. We got your pathology report back, and ... ALL MARGINS ARE CLEAR and ALL LYMPH NODES ARE NEGATIVE! So, I just might do my happy dance in whatever way is permissible without damaging a stitch or two. PRAISE GOD from Whom all blessings flow! Praise Him all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly ho...

Buckle your seatbelt, this is long. Before the residual fog of anesthesia and time blur the memories, I need to recount (to myself, if not to you) the events of my single mastectomy on Wednesday, July 18, 2018. I drank my required 12 ounces of Gatorade at 10 PM the night before, and again at just before 7 AM, along with 1000 mg of Tylenol ... this, they say, to just start to take the edge off of upcoming tests before surgery. Thanks to Sue Meilleur, I packed up my tiara and pink feather boa, along with all the various and sundry things the hospital said I should bring, and headed for the hospital in Naperville just before 7 AM. Pete Tammeling, our church's care pastor, called on our way to pray with us. Sidenote and repetition: I am SO grateful for the prayers of family and friends! My goodness, I feel like the young man whose friends lowered him through the ceiling to get to the healing power of Jesus. Just that thought makes me want to weep. Thank you, thank you, thank yo...

Are you a detail person? Or are you a "just give me the big picture/bottom line" kind of person? Call it a control issue (I know you will), but I want it all. Give me the goal, and then I want all the details that will get me there. Some say "the devil is in the details," which is true if those details go awry. However, God is a God of order, and therefore I can trust him with the details. Here are some details I'm dealing with right now. My mastectomy surgery is on Wednesday, but I still don't know what time. I'm told that the hospital will call me on Tuesday with the time I'm to arrive. Important detail. Before surgery, I will first go for sentinel node mapping. (What are the details of that, you ask.)... Head to Nuclear Medicine in the hospital. I'll be wheeled there, thank you very much. Mark can follow me. I'll change into "the gown."  I'll be given an IV. Cream will cover the surgical area (they don't wan...

Things got real with the call from the surgeon's office. "What time would you like to schedule your operation?" (You mean I actually have a choice? Well, let's get this thing going!) "What is her first availability?" "Let's see ... looks like next Wednesday, the 18th." "What time?" "We won't know what time until you get a phone call the day before." Well, okay then. Here we go. T-minus 6 and counting. Notes from the pre-op instructions: No blood thinners from now until surgery. No multi-vitamins until surgery. No more coQ-10. Zi-cam seems to be okay. Nothing to eat after 11 PM on the 17th. But wait ... Drink 12 ounces of Gatorade 12 hours before surgery. Drink another 12 ounces 4 hours prior to surgery. Take 1000mg (if my math serves me correctly, that would equal 1 gram) 4 hours before surgery. We can park on the second floor of the south parking garage that states "reserved for surgery patients....

For Women Only! (Men, read at your own risk.) This blog is really just an elaborate ruse to say thanks to my own private comedy company: our daughter, Ingrid. Between my husband and her, their lot in life is to make me see the bright and humorous side of everything. And so began my day with the plastic surgeon. Ingrid agreed to accompany me to give her womanly wisdom on the subject of reconstruction. I mean, really, should that be cause for laughter? Only when you can see that God is saving you from something far worse and, therefore, whether or not to add a stand-in for a soon-to-be-removed breast qualifies as joke fodder. First, there's the fact that I had to weigh in ... again! Horrors. But the nurse laughed. Ingrid laughed. I removed my glasses, shoes, and anything else that I could without being indiscreet ... and laughed. At one point, I think we probably discussed how much weight I would lose by having my breast removed, but ... I may have been raised in the 60s, b...

If you were standing near me right now, you might hear me singing those words. Here are some things I am thankful for today: Compassionate surgeon, who is thorough and has a sense of humor Compassionate medical oncologist, who promises empowerment Friendly medical staff Reconstructive surgeon's office rearranging their schedule so I can get a consultation before their normal 30-day wait! Praying friends and family Culver's frozen custard ... okay, I shouldn't have eaten that, but it was delicious I cannot imagine doing surgery or oncology for decades. Unless you have faith in the Almighty God, how do you possibly keep your empathy and patience for every single person who comes through the door with a new diagnosis? But these folks I've run into sure do. I am so grateful that God has placed them where they are. Here's how the schedule has gone so far: May 23 ... appointment with primary care physician. Lump was enough of a concern that she scheduled ...

When one takes a test, one would love to be in the top (or most unique) 1%, don't you think? Well, then there's this ... From Johns Hopkins:   Papillary Breast Cancer Papillary Breast Cancer Diagnosis Papillary breast cancer is a very rare type of  invasive ductal breast cancer  that accounts for fewer than 1% of all breast cancers.  The name comes from finger-like projections, or  papules , which are seen when the cells are looked at under the microscope.  Many papillary tumors are benign.   These are called  papillomas .  Even when a biopsy is negative for cancer, the pathologist often needs to look at the whole tumor under the microscope to be sure about the diagnosis. This is why surgery to remove a papilloma is usually recommended, even if it is thought to be benign.  Malignant papillary tumors are a form of breast cancer.   Like other types of invasive ductal cancer, papillary breast cancer begins in ...

I got the sweetest texts from one of my granddaughters the other day. She and the family had been talking about "Nana's cancer." And like most of us with limited experience (or no experience) with the topic, she immediately went to the worst case scenario. "Ur (sic) one of the most healthy person (sic) I know." Yes, weird, isn't it? We seem to always hear the phrase, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." But what about the fact that sometimes we cannot even see what is killing us??? Or has the potential to, anyway. It's the hidden disease that has the most potential to harm. Disease that we don't even want to admit exists. As I've written before, "I'm an idiot!" I ignored the warning signs, attributing them to experiences with which I was more acquainted, rather than having them checked for ... breast cancer. The same holds true for spiritual disease. We don't want to admit sin and so we igno...

No, thank you. I'd like to decline membership. I've just been admitted to a club I never wanted to join. As a matter of fact, Caroline (my favorite nurse so far) said, "Welcome to the club no one wants to be in." You see, she is also a member. It's called The Breast Cancer Club. Whether you've just been diagnosed (me) or are in treatment or have been cleared for many years, you are part of the club. But I'm choosing to think that's okay. I have friends and acquaintances and friends yet to come who have wisdom and strength I don't yet possess but may be able to share with someone down the road. This morning my loving husband went with me for the initial "results consultation." I was really hoping for, "This was all just a big misunderstanding. You can go home now." But no. The pathologist who read my biopsy results said, "I hate to be the one to relay this kind of news, but I have bad news and I have good news. Yes, yo...

God, You have my attention. But this is an adventure I never wanted to sign up for. I have started the roller coaster of emotions and thoughts, and have to remind myself of the "EVEN IF" clause. On Monday, the 25th of June, I arrived early for my core needle biopsy. Fairly calm, actually. The prayers of my friends were lifting me up, for sure. The staff at Edward mammography is so good at what they do, including caring for the human who is going through some trying times. So, gowned and ready to go, I was covered in a warm blanket by Caroline, while the ultrasound tech circled the trouble spots in purple on my skin. The doctor came in and introduced herself, keeping the conversation friendly and light. Caroline held the hand that wasn't behind my head and patted my arm at various intervals. I think I have a natural aversion for anything that may cause me to get drowsy or resist pain, because they always have to double dose me with the numbing stuff. This was no di...

These words have haunted me most of my life. Nerves and fear follow in their wake. I've turned them to my advantage, as I say it keeps me on my toes and ready for any eventuality. But those words ... what if? ... rob the joy and trust and faith that a believer in Jesus is supposed to have. Next week holds some uncertainties. Tests that could reveal either "benign" or "life threatening." So the "what if" is haunting me once again. God is all powerful. He is all loving. He is all wise. He is everywhere. He is all knowing. God is with me every moment. So why do I fear? Even if ... that's what I need to focus on.

Right now I'm listening to my husband speak to someone on Focus on the Family about what kids remember about dads. The emotional touch points. Not big things. The everyday little things a dad does to make life special. My dad took me on a "date" on my 18th birthday. My mom had to convince me to want to go, because by then it was too little too late. Today I got a sympathy card from someone I knew well when I was in high school and college. This makes the point that my dad was one person to the outside world and another to us as a family. His words are quite complimentary. But they describe the man he knew, not the father I knew. Following are his words: Very sorry to learn yesterday the news of Dale's death. He was a gentle spirit who truly cared about people and their relationships.  While technically he wasn't the first person I met upon arriving at R-G in 11/71 (that distinction belonged to the person staffing the front gate), Dale was my first friend...

Memories ... This past week was full of them, as I leafed through scrapbooks, photo albums, and steamer trunks. As I was part and parcel of two memorial services: one at a national cemetery, and one at a retirement home. It is a shame that all of our earthly life would boil down to scraps in a garage. When our children must go through our possessions, it might be just as well to hire a truck and haul it all away. Sad. To have Father's Day on the heels of the memorials for my dad is just too poignant. The siblings and I heard glowing remembrances from his friends at the retirement center and the church he had chosen to attend. Unfortunately, that was the persona he showed to the outside world. We knew someone totally different. "A great listener." To us ... don't argue with him because he will not listen. "Generous." To us ... all the money spent on strangers and his family forgotten. "A friend to all." To us ... nebulous at best. ...

As I’m reclining and resting after a morning of pre-K Sunday school and an Outback steak, I vaguely recall what Sundays were like when I was a child. My father was a pastor of small rural churches until I was ten years old. On most Sunday mornings, we were up early, dressed in our Sunday best, and eating “dry cereal” before piling into the family station wagon to go get a congregant who had no car. Hymnal page numbers were posted on a wooden sign, big and bold. I sat with my mother until I was old enough to sit alone while she sang in the choir or played the piano. Then after the “children’s sermon” we were dismissed for Sunday School. Off to the church basement we went for Bible stories and songs.  Our family was always the last to leave, of course. Dad had to talk with everyone, and so Mom would wisely pack herself a sandwich just in case her blood sugar dropped too low. Then home for the Sunday dinner, most likely with a singleton, couple, or family who needed a plac...

I come from a long line of control issue folks. My mom, being a Type 1 diabetic, was always super controlled about what she ate and when. My dad, on the other hand, was a food hoarder. We'd often find things hidden in the car or elsewhere. So, you see, I have a history of food swings along with the mood swings. Sometimes I seem to have complete control over what and how much I eat ... other times, total abandon! Long ago, before she became known as a heretic, I was a student of Gwen Shamblin. Initially, her Weigh Down Workshop methodology was all above board. I often wish I had those original VHS tapes. She interspersed physical tips with spiritual ones. The spiritual would always trump the physical, but both were absolutely necessary to stay within certain boundaries. #1 ... Wait for stomach hunger. Some of us don't even remember what that feels or sounds like. The body is fearfully and wonderfully made. When your blood sugar drops to a certain level a signal is sent to ...

Every once in a while I am struck with an almost irresistible urge to call my mom ... or my dad. It makes me a little sad. You know the song, "I Did It My Way"? Those lyrics that begin with, "Regrets, I've had a few ..." I've had a lot! Not the least of which is good, healthy communication with my parents. I do not believe that my parents are looking down on me from heaven. That's not how this works. If I don't want to live eternity praising Jesus, then I'm going to be pretty disappointed with heaven. It seems we really don't know what we've got til it's gone. All those questions left unanswered. All those squandered opportunities to say "I love you." Or to find out where a person stands with God. I hope that SOMEONE somewhere will take the advice of those who have lost loved ones and truly make the most of every moment. We always say we will, until it's too late. Call now, because there are no phones in heaven...

Over the many years of my father's pastorate and chaplaincy, he collected Last Supper memorabilia: tapestries, paintings, etched glass, carved candles, china plates. And when it came time to downsize after my mother's death, Dad had to decide what to retain of these keepsakes, and what to give to family or donate. The final Last Supper in his possession in his single room in the memory care facility was a 2x3 ½ foot tapestry of the DaVinci painting (albeit a poor reproduction). When we "happened" to be in Grass Valley the week that my dad passed away (nothing is unplanned to God), I came home with that final Last Supper tapestry. But what to do with it? I have too much stuff as it is, and I actually have a much larger version of Dad's collection hanging in my dining room. After attending a fundraising banquet for Wayside Cross Rescue Mission (now called Wayside Cross ministries, to cover their full spectrum of service), I determined that donating it to this ...

Don't say I didn't warn you! You could have kept scrolling, but no ... Do you know what today is? Yes, it is MOTHER'S DAY. See that apostrophe? That means it is a possessive noun. The day belongs to MY MOTHER. You see, the original intent was to honor the one who birthed you (or perhaps who adopted you and raised you). It is NOT "women's day." Nor is it a day to celebrate all mothers or motherhood. That may sound strange to you, but no. The day is to honor YOUR MOTHER in whatever way is appropriate. There are women who have lost children to disease or suicide or accident, for whom this day is painful, and it shouldn't be. I hope you take what I just said in the way it was intended. There are also women who cannot conceive or will never marry and have children. This day is also not about that. Do you also know that there are actually women who avoid FB and church today? Because of what this day has become, rather than its original intent. Please, ...