One Day More

My oldest, bestest friend, Beth (Mergener) Lawson, sent this to me today.  It gave me such a nice feeling to know that I have a "team".  Obviously, the pink is for Breast Cancer.  But, the lightning bolt?  That is for my love of all things Harry Potter.  Thanks Beth!

Well, good news/bad news today, I guess.  Here is what the MRI revealed:
- No additional masses on my left side (good news)
- Just the one rather large mass on my right side (bad news, but we knew that already)
- One abnormal lymph node (good-ish news - no other abnormal lymph nodes present)

We knew most of that already.  The new news:
- signs that the cancer is "interacting" with my chest wall.

Not cool.  They have not given me a staging number or letters or any of that nonsense yet, but I know that this does not bode well for that.  It has upped the anxiety levels yet again. 

So, fueled by this anxiety, Matt and I called Froedtert again and we have managed to up our appointment with a surgeon there from Friday, to tomorrow!

According to the nurse I spoke to, who was incredibly nice, down to earth, and sweet, this meeting is going to begin to answer all of my questions and help me to feel better about the situation.  I sure hope so.  I am not sure my nerves can take much more.

Where can I find some humor today?  In my daughter who has apparently teamed up with two of her friends to form the "Cancerettes".  They are writing a musical...or some kind of performance piece.  Should be interesting. 

While unsuccessfully attempting to drown out all of the obnoxious clunking noises during the MRI today, I listened to "Les Mis".  So, I will close with "One day more..."  Hopefully tomorrow will bring some answers.

Lots of love,
Kelly and Family

Chocolate-Covered Spaghetti

If you had asked me a week ago what things I would avoid at all costs, here is what I would've replied:

1. Needles.
2. Drugs.
3. Bananas.
4. Being naked in front of strangers.
5. Anyone other than my husband touching my body in places only my husband should be touching my body.
6. Needles in those places.
7. Being alone in dark places.

Ha!  In hindsight, I wish that list would've looked more like this:

1. Chocolate-covered spaghetti
2. Children jumping out from behind me and saying "boo!"
3. Laundry

Maybe this week would've been a lot less ridiculous.  I could be over-coming my fear of chocolate-covered noodles right now, instead.  If only.

The weekend has been surreal.  A blur of near-panicked fear, to laughter with friends, to completely losing my sense of humor with my family (sorry family).  I think I should probably add to the list of things I would avoid -- facing my family after receiving awful news that changes not just my life, but theirs.  I feel really bad about changing their lives.  I really wanted nothing to do with going and seeing them all, but I'm glad I did. 

I know they are in my corner and only want the best for me.  I feel their love and concern.  I just hate that I am the object of any concern at all.  I like to be inconspicuous.  I like to be semi-invisible.  If attention is in my direction, I like it to be because of shared laughter.

I hope I can do them proud.  They sure make me proud.

Thank you Jeannie, Bill, Linda, Mike, JJ, Dan, Mark, Carrie, Casey, Cathy, Tim, Rose, Jim, Jean, Harry, and Matt.  You are seriously the absolute best.  And, I love you all.

Begin at the Beginning

On Monday I had an appointment with my physician to check a lump.  She was not happy about it and sent me to have a mammogram and ultrasound.  At that appointment on Wednesday, they decided they wanted to do a biopsy.  The biopsy led to the diagnosis of Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, grade 3.  Whatever that means, right?

It means that the cancer started in my milk ducts (super-ridiculous since I have breast-fed four children each for a year) that has invaded the surrounding area.  Apparently, grade 3 means it is the fast-growing, aggressive type.  Yay.

I am still waiting on more information - staging, whether it is fueled by hormones (yeah, I'll let you look that one up), and more.  But...I do know the following:

1. On Monday, September 30th I will have an MRI.  I have to lie in an enclosed tube with no metal upon my body, while on my tummy with my hands over my head while there is a loud clicking noise.  This sounds like a treat as I get to listen to music while doing it.  I don't get to listen to whatever music I want to very often, so I guess I can look forward to that.  Depending on those results I may have more tests.
2. On Wednesday, I will meet with a team of Doctors from Columbia St. Mary's who will review my case and then give me their recommendations.
3. BUT...because CSM is so far away from us and just about everyone we know is saying we need to be at Froedtert, we also have an appointment on Friday to meet with a surgeon from Froedtert who will also discuss our options with us.

At that point, I imagine the next step will be scheduling the surgery, having the surgery, and recovering from the surgery.  Which will then be followed by lots of fun chemicals, the loss of my hair, my lunch and many other things.  Becoming irradiated will likely follow.  I can't wait.

As you maybe can tell (?), I am trying to keep my sense of humor, though I think it is mostly manifesting itself in snarky sarcasm right now.

As Matt and I are so incredibly blessed to have so many wonderful, caring, incredible people in our lives, I thought it might be helpful to have one place to keep you all informed.  I will do my best to keep in up-to-date or to have someone else do that for me.

Right now, the thing we need most is lots of prayer.  If you can do that for us, I would be forever grateful.  Thank you.