The Cancer Club

Cancer has given me some opportunities that not every one has the chance to have...then again, trust me, you do not wish to have these opportunities, either.  We all know about the Moms Club you join when you have a baby - you realize that you are in some kind of amazing sisterhood that you were vaguely aware of, but now finally understand.  In a very similar fashion, there is the Cancer Club...in my case, the Young Women's Cancer Club, which is comprised of all women who, when they go in for their checkups and look around them quickly notice the major age gap between the vast majority of patients present and themselves.  It is a very surreal experience as every time (every time!) I go in I look around and think, "I just don't belong here."

Many of us are moms.  Many of us are moms to babies and/or toddlers.  Officially, this group is known as the Young Survivors Coalition (YSC), but you don't have to join YSC to be a member of the club.  If you are under 50 and have breast cancer, you belong.  We can complain to one another about our aches and pains, we share our fears and concerns, we shout our joys and triumphs, and we worry just a little bit less. We get our questions answered by people who have been there.

Through this group I have met some amazing and wonderful women; strong, courageous, resilient, and phenomenally kind.  You may have met some of these women, but unless you are a part of the "club" you probably won't get to see the side of them that I do.  I am very grateful for these women.  

Conversely, I am super-frustrated, annoyed, and dismayed.  Almost every day someone new joins the Facebook group.  We all say, "Welcome!" but what we are really thinking is, Not again.  Why are you here?  Why are we all here?  And, then the worst day comes when one of the women you have gotten to know announces to the group that their cancer is back (or never went away).

I am new to this group, so this is my first time.  I have been laughing at her responses and posts for months now.  She is crazy funny and finds the humor in everything.  Her positive attitude and hilarious posts led me to message her a month or so ago and I learned more about her and her type of breast cancer.  She made me laugh and I tell you, sometimes, that is everything.

Her name is Heather.  She has a three-year old daughter and the only reason she doesn't have more kids is because cancer treatments have robbed her of that opportunity.  Her cancer is back (or probably never left). It is now in her liver and bones and the reality is that her life is going to be cut short.  My heart is breaking, but she is still cracking jokes.

If you would like to help Heather to take her daughter to Disney World, or the Kalahari, or both or even more additional amazing places with the time she has left, it would mean the world to me.  Walks and runs and donations towards research are a gift to all of us, but for Heather it is now about perseverance and moxie (and a lot of ravignation).

Heather's Go Fund Me - http://www.gofundme.com/dtrdac

Whether or not you are able to monetarily help Heather out, please use your power of prayer!  You are some phenomenally powerful prayer people and if you can give half of what you gave to me, to Heather, then she is going to do amazing.  Thank you!!!!!

Go get 'em, Heather!  

Hello!

Hello...  Is anyone still out there?!  You may have thought that this blog was finished, but it isn't quite yet!  The only reason I haven't updated it till now is that I took back over the job of raising my kids...and that took all of my time and energy since it meant four of them running in and out and all about 24-7 for the last few weeks.

But, as of today, that all changes.  They are back in school!  This is the first year that I am whooping it up to send them back, since I have been so exhausted.  I haven't taken care of these munchkins full-time in almost a year and it has taken every ounce of my strength, patience, and endurance to get through these past few weeks.  But, now that they are gone (just me and Hugo now), I am missing them and wishing we could have fit more in this summer.  Sigh.  I guess there is next year.

Here they are excited for some first and lasts - First Day of Kindergarten for Declan, First Day of Third Grade for Lari and Last First Day of Elementary School for Kyrie (5th grade).

Now that I have a bit more time (it is so quiet here while Hugo is sleeping!), I am looking forward to sharing the following with you soon:

• How my port was removed!
• The story of Watson (the unplanned puppy)
• Ongoing cancer recovery
• How I may have changed...for the worse
• Cancer celebration party
• Many impending walks/runs
• Disney cruise vacation (woot woot!)
• Plans for the future
• And more!

So...should you care to hear any of those things, check back in again soon.  I still have a lot to say. (Lucky you.)

An Update on the Hair

And this is why I am so glad I have this blog.  My very best friend, Beth, has an Aunt who took it upon herself to write me a message in response to my last post, "Bravery".  Because her message really made me think again and gave me back my confidence, I would like to share it with you all:

"Hi Kelly -- 

(Then she said a lot of really nice stuff about my blog and writing, which made me smile and blush and feel really good and I think that is just for me so I am not going to copy it here.  Then she said...)   

Now, on to what really made me totally angry -- and I mean really angry, postal/road rage angry. That woman you went to who just clucked and coo'd over your hair did you a terrible disservice making you feel that way you did when you walked out of her salon.  You should NOT have felt that way.  She was just a bad, lazy stylist.  I mean, of course your hair will just keep getting better and better, but why didn't she even try to work with what you have already....Looking at your photos!  I think she had some hair to work with and didn't even try.  I mean heck, I even see stray strands peeking over your ears for heavens sake.  Even with just a quarter of an inch difference she could have really given it some shape. She could have shaved up the sides a bit and then totally spiked the top with tons of gell (the hardening stuff some of Ian's 19 year old friends use) and then.....gasp, tried to talk you into a wild blond color so you could have strutted out pf the place with a "Kelly meets Miley Cyrus" look. Yup, she didn't even try.  Also, you have that color hair that just begs, Begs, BEGS to be blonder. You should have walked out of there feeling like a rock star!   Anyway, there is NO REASON you should have had to feel brave to walk into a salon..and no reason you should have walked out of there feeling the way you did. That woman had no true artistry or styling imagination.  Check out Miley's sides....Shorter than yours!!! Give yourself a few weeks and then go to someone decent and start rockin' it girl! 

PAX - Your fan Ann G."

Wow.  So ridiculously cool.  So here is what I wrote back to Aunt Ann:

Hi Ann,

Oh my goodness, how nice of you to write that message to me!  You made me feel so much better.  And... YOU ARE TOTALLY RIGHT!  Now I am looking in the mirror at the length of my hair and I can clearly see that there is length there that she could have cut off and made into something.

Everyone has been right all along - I could get it trimmed!  She convinced me otherwise with her ridiculousness.  I shouldn't have listened to her with all of her coo-ing and clucking.  I just should've gotten the hell out of there as fast as I could and found someone who knew what they were doing.  I just felt so humiliated.  I should not have doubted all my friends and acquaintances.  How silly of me.  I am going to find someone who can do this right.  In the meantime...all I did today was fluff it up when I got out of the shower - no gel or anything - and even that seems to have made a difference.  I wasn't confident in what I was doing before, but now I am just going to go with it.  Already I like it so much better.  Why couldn't she just have showed me what a difference that could make?  She was a dork.  I feel so so much better - thank you so much for pointing that out to me!

Grateful!
Kelly

Not quite Miley Cyrus, but at least I made it fluffier and have a bit more of a style!

I felt kinda bad when I wrote that last post, but venting out my frustration allowed me to get over it and move past it.  Now, I am glad I wrote it.  I had several people come up to me at church today and tell me that they enjoyed it and Ann's feedback made me re-think my own thoughts and come up with a different conclusion.  Today is a much better hair day.  Thanks Ann!

Bravery

Throughout my cancer journey, many people have said to me, "You are (have been) so brave."  My internal response is, "Well, I don't know about that?"  To me, being brave is to be afraid of something and then to do it anyway.  So, yes, I guess in some ways I was brave to go through Chemo, surgery, radiation, and more.  I was most certainly afraid to have horrible chemicals poured into my veins; to allow people to cut me open; and to be in a room with radioactive materials; I didn't want to wear a gown all the time, and have needles stuck in me, and lie on tables.  But, on the other hand, when there is no alternative it doesn't really feel like bravery, it just feels like doing what you have to do, even though you don't want to do it.  


I don't know, I think maybe we lack the word for this in our language - when you do something you don't want to do because you plain and simple have to...Maybe it's "moxie", but I think that more implies having the strength to do what you have to do.  Maybe the word is resolve.  It takes resolving yourself to something and you can do that with bravery or you can do it with resignation.  Ha!  I just found the word - Resignation - ""The acceptance of something undesirable but inevitable."  

Of course, that still isn't the proper word, because it isn't about just accepting, but also about embracing it, whether you wanted to or not.  Huh.  I think I am going to call it "ravignation" - one part bravery, one part resignation, one part raving - as in it will drive you stark, lunatic crazy (raving), literally causing you to lose your hair, and not just because of the Chemo.

So, for the past nine-plus months, I have been full of ravignation.  Today. Today I was brave.

For a few weeks now I have been hearing, "Your hair is really getting there."  And, "You could almost use a trim now!"  And, "You've got a pixie cut!"  People, I wasn't that into my hair before I had cancer.  You may recall, it was stick straight and the most I ever did for it was go and get it highlighted and cut like once every eight weeks just to make certain I looked presentable, even though I was never certain if I did.  If there is an area of my life I lack confidence it is in the beauty department. Probably because I have rarely felt the need to look "beautiful" and have generally been utterly content to be "cute". 

So, when I hear people tell me that I need to trim my hair - and it is not just one person, no it has been many.  Many.  What I hear is, "Go and get your hair trimmed, already.  It looks awful, even if we are telling you, you look like a pixie."  Which, to me, looking like a pixie has no down-side.  It is like the ultimate in cute-ness. Something I am completely content to be.  But, I have been feeling all of this pressure to get my hair trimmed, so I thought, gee, I must really need to get it trimmed.

Linda took the boys this morning to play and the girls went to their camp at Elmbrook Church and so I found myself with the rare and precious few hours of alone time.  So, I decided to be brave and walked into a hair salon (I had never been to before) to see what they could do about my hair.

Shaving my head took less bravery then this did.

I walked in and asked if there was anyone who could "trim up my hair" and show me how to use some mousse in it or just do something to it to give it more of a style.  I got pity eyes and a "hold on a second" and then a woman came out and said she could fit me in now (the place was like completely empty, so I am confused by this statement.  Like, of course, you can fit me in now), and then I was led back to a chair and she fussed around about me for a bit and looked at my hair and coo-ed and clucked and made like three snips and then said, "You just have to be patient".  It will continue to grow back.

Uhhh...yeah...duh.  Then she got out some mousse and the hairdryer - the actual hairdryer! - and fussed some more. (This took all of five minutes.  Total.)  And then she told me again that before I knew it I would have enough hair for a haircut and that (again) I just needed to be patient.  

Umm...holy embarrassing, Batman.  I am not sure I have ever felt so humiliated in all my life.  And, not because of her.  Because I have all these people fussing over my frickin' hair.  It's just hair. I think I would feel more confident in myself if I were back to being bald and wearing my hats again. 

To make it worse, she said, "No charge."  At first, I was going to fight her on it.  She spent some time with me, after all.  But basically she spent that whole time coo-ing and clucking and fussing.  And, I just hate being fussed over.  And, so I held on to as much of my dignity as I could and thanked her and walked the heck out of there as at-a-normal-pace as I possibly could, with my hair looking essentially the same way it did before, but now with some mousse in it.

Bravery is not doing chemo or surgery or radiation.  It's not getting a port placed or taken out.  Bravery is not shaving your head, or going bald.  Bravery is walking out of a hair salon without crying first. Bravery is going to baseball games in your huge sun hat to cover all of the places you have been radiated. Bravery is asking someone for help carrying something because your lymph nodes have been removed and your arm is sensitive now.  Bravery is trying to go back to life-as-normal when life will never be "normal" again.

And so, after months of being full of ravignation, I now begin a new chapter in my life with bravery.

This is what bravey-filled hair looks like. Ooh, so different. 

14 Years

Happy 14th Anniversary to my most amazing husband.  To name all of the cliches, Matthew is my rock, my champion, my confidant, my supporter and my best friend.  This year we added some new ones to the list, however.  I have discovered that Matt is a fantastic caretaker, amazing at acceptance and perseverance; loves me no matter what I look like, what type of scars I have (bodily or internal), what kind of day I am having (happy, sad, scared or irrational); and can even handle loving me despite the person I may have become.

I knew 17 years ago when we went out on our first date that he was something special; something rare.  But, I truly could not be more proud that he is mine, all mine.

Thank you, Matthew, for loving me through it.  I am also yours - forever and always.

And....DONE!

We did it!!!!!  Four A courses FEC chemo, Four B courses 5-FU chemo, 12 weeks of Taxol, a lumpectomy, a re-excision, and 30 sessions of radiation, and....DONE!

Here is my kinda smug look:

Wha-bam.  Take that cancer, you little bitch.  Who's crying now?!

(Sorry, couldn't help that.  Cancer needs to be taunted at a moment like this.)

And, another possession to prize - my certificate of completion of radiation, signed by many of the girls who worked on L1, but sadly only two of my L1 gals (Courtney, dude, what happened?!  :-)  ).

My sister-in-law, Cathy and brother, Casey (though I know it was all Cathy - I stand corrected!  I have been informed it was all Casey.  Wow!  Thanks, Case!) sent me flowers...

So sweet.  And, my sister, J.J. called on some of my closest friends to have a little shin-dig to mark the ending of a long journey.  An awful, wonderful, blessed, crazy, scary, remarkable, amazing, journey.

Suck it, cancer.  Kelly's Army can't be beat.

Boosts

So, for the last five radiation appointments, they have switched from the regular radiation of my breast and lymph nodes, to only radiating the area along the surgical scar.  They call this a "boost".  Since the goal of radiation is to kill off any microscopic cancer cells that may be lurking, I assume this is to be doubly certain that there are none lurking near the surgery site.  Good idea.  The great part about the boost is that it takes, like seriously, thirty seconds.  Okay, sure, it takes a few minutes to get the machine set up and calibrated the right way and all of that, but then once they are ready, it is one thirty second (actually, I think it may be thirty-four seconds as the crow flies) boost and then it is finished.  For the boost, they use something they call "the cone" to direct the radiation right at the scar. It comes down and almost touches me - kinda creepy, but also interesting...someone actually had to cut this thick piece of metal in the shape of the area that they are radiating.  It is an oblong oval shape that goes around the entirety of my scar.  The girls told me the name of the man who does the metal-work, but...I forgot.  Whoops!  Anyway...how interesting that there is actually a job out there to cut metal for radiation machines.  I am fascinated by it, anyway.  Here I am with the lovely cone boost.

And, I couldn't let this pass me by.  The receptionist to radiation posts a calendar on her computer daily.  Here is what today's was.  Love it!

29 DOWN!  ONE MORE TO GO!

28 Down!

Twenty-eight down, two more to go!  Can you believe that?!  And, here is the woman who made all of this possible, my mom.  How could I have made it through all of this without you???  Thank you, mom.  You are the real hero and the true miracle.

PT and MT

Physical Therapy and Musical Therapy (is that a thing?) - they kind of go hand-in-hand, don't they? Well, my day started with radiation as usual (almost there!), but afterward I stopped up at PT to see if I could change my appointment for the week.  I was supposed to go in on Friday, but Kyrie's camp was doing a show at the exact time of my appointment.  Not cool!  But...turns out Diane had an appointment...right then.  It was awesome!  Surprise PT is the best.

There is no down side to PT.  Diane is fun to talk to, it is pain-free, stress-free, relaxing, and just plain awesome.  I know the goal is that we get everything back working like it is supposed to so that I don't need PT any more, but I am going to have a hard time letting go of this one.  Sigh.

Here is a picture of Diane and I for my daily selfie:

I love PT

And that was followed later by the musical therapy.  For my birthday, J.J. and Cathy gave me tickets to Sarah McLachlan.  We had a scrumptious dinner at Mo's Irish Pub beforehand and then enjoyed a wonderful low-key concert afterward.  It was a very nice night and a great way to celebrate nearing the end of a long journey.

Exit Interview

After radiation today, I met with one of the Breast Care Center nurses.  I wasn't sure why it was on my schedule for today, but then I found out that it was kind of like an exit interview.  Basically, they wanted to check in with me and see how my stress levels were, to measure my arm to make certain they had not swollen out to high heaven (so far, so good), and to tell me what to do in the coming months.  I received a handy-dandy notebook to keep track of questions and important numbers in case I need them.  It was kind of surreal to hear them saying this is it.  I have spent the last nine months filled with appointments at Froedtert and the last six weeks there almost everyday.  So weird to think that I won't be there hardly at all anymore, but kind of great as well.  It is going to be oddly bittersweet.

26 down.  Four more to go!

Uhhh...the selfies must end soon.  They are getting worse and worse.  

Maybe I need to get my hair cut?  Or maybe the growth has seriously hit some kind of awkward length.  All I know is that this is getting painful.

Frogs

In a semi-continuation on my educational series on radiation, I will add this photo of where I typically park my car in the Cancer Center - The Lower Level, also known as "The Frog Level".  The first time we were ever at Froedtert we spent hours upon hours Froedtert Bouncing.  When our brains were stuffed full of words like "cancer" and "staging" and "chemo" and "surgery" and "radiation" we had to go and find our car to leave that awful-wonderful place.  Matt and I looked at each other and were like, "Where did we park?"  Then we looked at the elevator buttons and saw a picture of a duck, a frog, and of running water.  "Frogs!", we both exclaimed.  Though we could not remember where our car was parked we did remember hearing the chirping of frogs when we entered the building that day.  Since then, we almost always park on the frog level...it just makes life easier.

Do I look a little chunky in this photo?  Hmmm...the hazards of taking selfies.  You end up looking at yourself and analyzing "you" on a daily basis.  These photos are for a record of radiation only.  They shall not be held against me.  Besides, I think it's the hair...and the fact that I actually am starting to have some....  We will blame it on that anyway.  YES!  We will.

Also, did I ever post these photos of the radiation machine?   Also known as L1, I believe.

Mmmm hmmm...so comfy looking, isn't it?  

My back on that hard black surface (with a thin towel underneath me) 

and my arms in those red holders.  Ahhh... L1, how I will miss you.  Not.

A Day Off

Happy Fourth of July!  And, happy no radiation today, day!  Woo hoo!  I am sad I didn't get to see the L1 Girls today, but thrilled that my skin gets to sit this day out.  I am definitely much more red and itchy now, though I think still doing better than most...I think?!  Instead of receiving rays of awesomeness we had Beth, Heather, and their families over for brunch (six total adults and eight kids). Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, English muffins, and...chocolate croissants, oh my!  It was so much fun to make for them, even better to eat, and just wonderful to see all of the kids play together and enjoy each other's company.  Beth and Tom brought over The Lego Movie as well and the adults enjoyed some quality quiet time.  So cool!

This is the photo we took after Beth miraculously found the elusive die to my Lego Harry Potter game. We were very excited. Beth was so excited, she couldn't keep her eyes open!

Whoops

Okay, so I forgot to take a photo today.  But, look at the cute puppy!  Isn't he so cute?!  Oh...such a cute puppy!

Watson is 5 months old now.

P.S.  Seriously, the story of his adoption is truly going to be posted some day soon.  I actually wrote the entire thing two weekends ago, only for my computer to crash and lose it.  You can imagine my frustration.  Needless to say, I did not feel like re-writing it at that moment.

Hey, wait a second, who is this cute little puppy?!  Oh!  What a cute little puppy-like-thing. 

Cute, sweet, little puppy! 

Hugo is almost two-and-a-half.

Pink Skin

And then the day after we all agreed my skin was looking so good, this happened:

Nonetheless, I only have six more treatments to go and therefore I made it really far in this saga before becoming itchy and red, which is a really good thing.  Hopefully, I can continue to stay on the good side of the spectrum and not turn into a red-flaky-nasty-no-fun specimen.

Chocolate Therapy

Today I had a very late radiation appointment - 3pm.  My schedule indicated "SIM" on it and I wasn't quite sure what to expect.  The last time my schedule said "SIM" I believe was the time I had my hands over my head for like 45 minutes.  I wasn't super-excited to repeat that.

But this time, when I arrived Courtney told me she had brought treats and that after the SIM was over I could have them.  What?! Super-cool! Courtney totally knows what motivates this woman.  Plus, it turns out the SIM was a lot quicker and much easier than last time.  There was a series of x-rays taken and my arms did fall nasty asleep, but not nasty-nasty asleep.  After it was finished, Dr. Wilson came in to see that everything in the x-rays lined up okay and he actually said to me, "It couldn't have been more perfect."  That's pretty awesome  Then, he looked at my skin and said it continued to look really good and asked me what my secret was. I told him it was the prayers from all of you.

Then, it was all done and Courtney came in with these delicious desserts from Outpost.  I can't believe Courtney remembered this, but it must have been early on in my treatments that I was telling them about this delicious dessert Matt and I had at the hospital Bistro at one of my first Chemo treatments and how they never have it there anymore.  The Bistro gets their desserts from Outpost and Courtney had said that the next time she bikes past it she would check for it.  She wasn't sure which dessert it would be, so she brought back two of them for me to try. How nice!!!!

While I am not certain that what Matt and I had all those months ago was one of these desserts, I do know that they were really good.  And, somewhat (kind of) healthy-ish.  I mean, they were made with organic ingredients, anyway.  :-)

Thanks Courtney!  That really made my day!!!!

A Monday

So...I am sure there was a reason I made this face in this photo, but because it is now actually over a week later that I am posting it...I can no longer remember why...  I guess that is good, hey?!

On Mondays, I have extra-long radiation sessions due to the x-rays they take, but I can't imagine that is why the straight face instead of the smile.  Oh well...it's a mystery.  Here is my Monday photo.

21 down.  Nine to go!

Door Made of Lead

And for today's selfie, I would like to show you the amazingly thick door that stands between the radiation room (is there a proper name for this room, girls?) and the rest of the world.  Here it is...

Kacia and Courtney got out some measuring tape - it is two feet thick!

Here is my selfie in front of this protective door.

So here are my thoughts about this door...I am glad it is there.  I mean, it keeps everyone protected from the dangerous (cancer-causing!) radiation.  The radiation that no one, in their right mind, wants to be exposed to.  It keeps the people outside safe.  For those of us inside, it represents just what we are willing to do to get rid of this awful disease called cancer.  We are willing to lie on hard tables for a half-hour (20 minutes?), while they turn on that disgusting radiation (which is actually only on for 30 seconds at a time, but still...) and close that giant door, thereby trapping us inside with the stuff that no one else wants to be near.  In my worst moments (luckily only lasted for like 20 seconds) on that table in that room I wondered if they have ever had one of the machines malfunction and someone was stuck inside with the radiation and the door closed tightly.  I am fairly certain the answer is "No" but I am still too afraid to ask.  I don't want to know the answer to that question.  I am trusting the powers-that-be that when I get on that table and have my chin strapped down that all will be well and all will work properly.  I am trusting my L1 Girls to hit the right buttons and line everything up proper (though I do my best to distract them) and make certain it is all okay before they shut that door.  I am trusting that door to do its job and to keep everyone outside safe, but I am also trusting that if something went wrong and I ripped that damn (sorry!) strap off my chin and ran to that door that I would, indeed, be able to slide it open and escape that terrible-wonderful room.  And yes, I have envisioned doing that.  And, no, I have never come close to trying.  My arm may have twitched once in response to the thought, but I closed my eyes or looked at the pretty tulips or listened to the fun music and thought about something else.  Because even though the radiation in harmful, for some reason it is supposed to be helpful to me and that means that as I am lying there wondering where my help comes from I can also think about the miracle of radiation and the added percentages it gives me towards a recurrence-free life.  

So, thank you radiation for your ridiculousness.  And, thank you, Froedtert and L1 Girls for keeping everyone safe.  But, watch out people - if that machine buzzes for more than 33-ish seconds, we are gonna find out just how strong I am!

P.S.  Yes, I like to be dramatic.  In all honesty, I don't think that door even locks when the girls leave the room.  And, even though it is massive, I believe it slides fairly easily - I never hear anyone grunt while opening it as they come into the room...  Huh!  Unless it is automatic and locks super-quiet while the buzzing is happening and then slides open automatically so the girls don't even have to do it?!?!  Oh no!!!  Is it automatic?!  No.  No, it's not.  I know it isn't.  It isn't...right?

BFF Selfie!

Beth is in town!  And she joined me for a little radiation today!  Okay, she didn't, of course, actually join me in getting radiated, but she came in the back with me and met some of the L1 Girls.  We had lunch in the bistro after radiation and even watched a bit of the World Cup from one of the lounges while we enjoyed our Portabella Mushroom sandwiches.  What a great way to do radiation!!!

Well, Finally...

Okay, so I got a little behind on the selfies.  I am going to back-post them anyway, since I did actually take the selfies on these dates...I just didn't get around to posting them.

I had wanted to do a "series" this week on the machine and the equipment and all of those fun things, but have been crazy busy between kids schedules, my radiation schedule, and fighting the desire to go to bed every night at about 8pm.  But, here is what I took in preparation for it...

Here is an awesome picture that Kacia took of the machine from my perspective as I lie on the table.  I can't actually see my reflection, but close too it.  I can generally see the warm blanket they place over me (I am a cold-ilocks!).  But, I thought this was a pretty cool selfie for today.

So that window that you see my reflection in is where the radiation comes from.  There are like these keys that line up to allow the radiation through in the correct pattern for my body.  Those tortuous CT scans and x-rays I have had make certain that the radiation is pointing at the right stuff and not too much of the wrong stuff.  Dr. Wilson showed me a nifty picture of how the radiation hits a small slice of my heart and lungs, but not much.  They do their best to minimize that - thank you - we appreciate that, kindly!

The round can-lights are where the lights that create the numbers and axes on my body to line the machine up shine from.  Once I am radiated from above, the machine moves to also radiate me from below.  Then I see this above me, instead of the machine:

Unfortunately, this peaceful scene is just slightly out of my eye-line, but if I squint enough I can enjoy the thought of siting in a tulip-filled garden.  For some reason, it reminds me of my grandma's backyard.  I think it is the trees that remind me of the woods behind her house.

But, this is more accurately what I can actually see.  Darn.  Oh well.  The girls have fun playing different music for me, so I enjoy that, instead!

The Damn (Sorry) Chinstrap

Is chinstrap one word or two?  My spellcheck is not catching it, so we are going to go with one. 

Here it is, folks. The infamous, damned (sorry) chinstrap. 

I have to tell you, smiling in that thing is not easy. Not because it pains me to smile with it on, but rather because it actually hurts to smile with it on!  It digs into my chin and neck. Still, it was a lot worse before they cut the bottom away. It used to feel like I was choking. So glad we got that fixed!

And here is a picture of the lights they shine upon me (with appropriate parts covered or cut from the frame) to line my body up with the machine. If you look closely, you can see my dot tattoo in the center where the axes meet. 

If there's time, maybe tomorrow we will get some video. If not, maybe my view from the machine. Fun!

Vlog Brothers Selfie

Over the weekend, I started the post about how we adopted a puppy, and then...I don't know...  Life happened, or something. I am working on it, I swear.

I wanted to start a series this week focused on the actual workings of radiation, but I was not in the best mindset today. Matt's grandma Eileen passed away last week at the age of 94 and her funeral was today. I missed most of it (due to radiation), but got to attend the meal with many Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. It was quite an event!  She was quite the lady.

So, instead of a radiations-workings pic, I took a Vlog Brothers-esque Selfie. You may not think you know who or what the Vlog Brothers are, but if you have read the book or seen the movie "The Fault In Our Stars", then you know half of the Brothers Green - John. Hank is the other brother and they have a  YouTube video series they began back in 2007. They are excellent videos. I encourage you to watch some (it would take a lifetime to watch them all). One thing they often do, is cut off most of their faces and just show their eyes. So, without further ado, my Vlog Brothers Selfie:

I feel like my eyes look beady... Or cross-eyed or something. Not my favorite, but oh well, here it is. 

Another Day

Since it is another busy day in the Kons' House, I am posting this even before I go to radiation.  A.k.a. I have the time right now.  On today's agenda - another Pine Lake Camp trip as it is already time to go back and get Kyrie.  I feel like camp should be a bit longer than two days when you are talking about a four-hour total car ride to go and get her and bring her home.  Maybe one extra day between those car trips would've been nice.  But, that's what's gotta be done today and so I will head to radiation again, this time with Sue to accompany me and then we will go and pick up Stacie, and the three of us will head out to get the girls.  Because there is a short program at pick-up, we will likely need to stop for dinner on the way home and thus our arrival time back at the 'stead won't be until at least 7:30pm at my best guess.  

And, I think the radiation fatigue has started to kick in.  I find myself yawning profusely at around 6pm these days.  I turned the light off last night at 9:30pm, but then had trouble sleeping - that doesn't help matters!  I don't think I got to sleep till at least 11:30pm, which isn't so bad, but I could've used those other two hours on top of it.  Oh well.  We soldier on.  Maybe there will be some rest this weekend (ROTF).

Happy Half-way!!!!!  Only 15 more to go!

It Never Rains, But...

Lariska woke up with a sore throat again yesterday.  I had such a busy day ahead of me; I knew there was no way I could fit a visit to Dr. Grunske in there.  So, I had my mom take her to Walgreens for the quick test for Strep throat, while I packed Kyrie up for camp.  Yup, sure enough, she was positive.  She stayed home from Day Camp, I ran to radiation, then came home to pick up Kyrie, Breanna, Amy and their moms and we all drove to Pine Lake Camp to drop the girls off for a couple of days of Treehouse Adventuring.  I returned home around 6pm, put the kids to bed while Matt was at Puppy Training Class (uh-huh), and then came downstairs to deal with said puppy.

I am not sure I had a moment to breathe, so I am glad today was a bit more calm.  By noon, Lari had been on antibiotics for 24-hours and she was desperate to go back to Day Camp again for the pizza party that day.  Here we are on our way to camp (after which I went straight to radiation, but upon my return home I got to sit down for an hour and relax before Lari got back again and I took her to the pediatrician to make sure everything was okay.  Sheesh!)

Happy She Feels Better

Crazy Town

It's Crazy Town at the Kons House.  Read tomorrow's post for more details.

Skipping

Since I still do not have enough time amidst the packing kids for overnight camps, day camps, play dates, t-ball,

lessons, and radiation, to tell the story of our puppy, I will instead tell you about the musical adventures of radiation. 

My L1 Girls know I don't like Country now (thank you, Dena). As such, they have been having fun mixing it up with the music every day. One day last week there was some new-age-y spa music, yesterday I got to jam out to some John Mayer, and today...today they found a Gray's Anatomy Soundtrack in their musical left-behinds closet and put it on for me after realizing the Country was still playing. It would have been an interesting listen had it not been for the rather large skip in the CD that kept this discordant guitar playing for two seconds, followed by five seconds of silence, then two more seconds of guitar - you get the picture. At first, I thought it was supposed to be some kind of artistic thing, then I realized it was just awful. Luckily, as soon as the girls came in they heard it as well and switched it to a new song. Or maybe, luckily today's radiation went by very fast because that CD had some major problems. Bummer, Courtney - listening to Gray's Anatomy would've been interesting. But, I'll take the spa music back if it's all the same to you. So glad that radiation continues to be joyful!

Today's selfie -- No time for makeup, too busy potty-training puppies!

"Sigh"

 

Lost Our Minds

To put it in a nutshell for you - Matt and I have lost our minds. Over the weekend we "accidentally" adopted a puppy from the Elmbrook Humane Society. I will explain this misadventure in another post on another day hopefully very soon, but right now we are dealing with the craziness of having a new pup in our mix.

 Meet Watson

Lest ye ever doubted our insanity, there is now concrete proof. 

My radiation face today - What have we done?

Crabby

How is that I can be having a not-so-great morning, dealing with rambunctious boys, tiredness, and just the general ick that comes with having (had) cancer and then when I got to radiation, essentially not the place I wanted to be, I was completely cheered up by "the girls" simply by talking about books?

It isn't fun to have to leave the boys (and soon all the kids) on a daily basis, and driving in the construction traffic is not the most desirable thing, and I definitely don't love the idea of being in the vicinity of radioactive substances and having those substances directed at my chest, but it sure is nice to know that if you have to do those things, that you can count on the people who are there to have a smile on their faces and kindness in their hearts. 

Something that has gone through my mind repeatedly as I stare at the ceiling during radiation is, "Where does my help come from?"  It is from the 121st Psalm and goes like this:

1 I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? 2 My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. 3 He will not let your foot slip-- he who watches over you will not slumber; 4 indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 5 The LORD watches over you-- the LORD is your shade at your right hand; 6 the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. 7 The LORD will keep you from all harm-- he will watch over your life; 8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

After a further discussion with these girls post-radiation about churches, I know that my help has indeed come from the LORD through the L1 girls.  Now when I stare at the ceiling and wonder,  I can also remember thank God for their sparks of joy that have help to re-kindle my own. 

Pre-radiation. Crabby:

Post-radiation. Better:

Froedtert Fun

Today, being Thursday, means that I had a Dr. Appt. to accompany the usual radiation and as such my wonderful husband was nice enough to come with me. 

Dr. Wilson said that everything looks great. You still can't even tell that I have had radiation, so that is good. The longer I can go without getting pink, the better I assume it will be in the long-run. 

And here is my whole team, all together, affectionately known as "the girls" in my mind. 

Courtney, me, Barb, and Kacia. We definitely need to get a shot that does not involve all of that blue gown. 

As if I don't get enough of Froedtert, I also returned in the evening for a Young Survivors Coalition meeting. It is great to get together with a group of gals who can answer questions as well as know what it's like to go through this adventure. 

On my way out there was a beautiful moon so I attempted to snap a shot of it. I would call it "Moon Over Froedtert" but really it's more like "Moon Beyond Froedtert". 

No Country for Young Women

Radiation went great today. I am learning a lot about how the machines work and what they do, etc. One of these days when I "have more time" I will do a post on it, hopefully with some visual aids. 

Here's my selfie for the day. 

In The Dressing RoomThis is where I change from my clothes to a gown and then back to my clothes again. 

It was funny today when the girls pointed out to me that the radio was playing Country. I hadn't even noticed!  In the middle of my second radiation I heard the station switching. Thanks girls!  You guys are awesome!!!

Losing Track

Okay, I am already losing track of not only what day of the week it is, but also how many times I have done radiation. When you do practically the same thing everyday it starts to run together. 

But, I really didn't do the same thing today. I was fortunate enough to get to go out to lunch with Erin Ledlie and Sue Brandel before radiation. And they were also nice enough to humor me with a stop off at B&N so I could accomplish a few errands...which also meant they had to listen to me talk incessantly about the books I read. Poor them. 

Anyway, we had a really nice time. But I forgot to get a picture of us!  Darnit! (I spell it like that so it is more akin to a swear word.)  So, instead of a new selfie, I offer you the following one that I took right after doing one of the longer set up radiation appointments. I think it was the dry-run one, which may be called a SIM....or may not be. I am unclear. 

I took this to share my drawn-on body, but I don't think I ever shared it. Now I have. 

Seven down. Twenty-three to go!

Six Down

Day number six, done!  Only 24 left to go!

I had another fun time today with Barb, Kacia and Courtney.  We talked books this afternoon.  Doesn't get any better for me.

By the way, Barb - remember how I couldn't come up with the genre for the book I was reading - I thought of it the moment I got into my car.  It is a mystery, but to be more precise it is a Detective Novel.  Except, it has the twist that the detective is a wizard.  I know, weird.  But, this series is very good.  The author, super-creative with a writing style I admire.  The main character, a good person with good values.  He just happens to be able to also do some magic.  Weird, I know.  But, I think magic exists of a sort in this world.  I think radiation is a form of magic - rays you can't see or feel (when you at first receive them, anyway) that zap cancer?  Pretty sweet!  (Okay, science.  Fine.)

Anyway...(if you don't like Fantasy Fiction ignore that last paragraph)...no Country again today. Thanks girls!  Every Monday I have x-rays taken, so it takes a little longer.  My arms go into that nasty tingly sleep, but now I feel like I am being a wuss.  Still, I have to say it is a bit of torture.

Actually, in retrospect, I think the torturous part about the whole situation is that you are put into this uncomfortable position and granted, that is not very fun, but then when the actual x-rays or radiation happens everyone has to leave the room and you are left alone there with just your cold Girlfriends taped to a table and your thoughts.  I think that's why these posts have taken a turn toward the bizarre.  I start to think weird, strange, ridiculous thoughts while left alone in a room with whirring machinery, while not able to move.  You might, too?!

Today's selfie - It's Monday!

Some Awesomeness

I have quite a bit of awesomeness to catch up on and I know I am going to forget quite a bit, but here is what I have to tell you about at this moment:

Thank you Lilly Becker family for the delicious chocolate chip banana bread!  Yum!  We gobbled that stuff right up.

An amazing Greek salad from Erin Wurtzbacher. SO good!!!!

Flowers from my wonderful husband for finishing a week of radiation.  Awwww!  Thanks, hon!

A radiation tree!  My mother-in-law, Linda, had this Easter tree and thought it would be fun to use it as a countdown for radiation. There is something taped to the bottom for me to open when the 30-rounds are complete.  Fun!  Thanks, Linda!!!!