I Have a Weak-End

I know sounds strange; but I got you to look, didn't I?  The weekend is here and I can't even begin to tell you how glad. 

Our IT organization is in the middle of a big re-org.  We're going through layoffs and many were in the management ranks this year.  So now it is the big shuffle (like they don't shuffle all year long for other reasons).  The good new is that I have a better manager.  Our group was suffering pretty badly with a new management recruit that wasn't working out well.  We now have a seasoned manager who seems to be very congenial and lets people hunker down and do their work without throwing wrenches into it every other hour.  It's only been two weeks, but so far, so good.  He's letting me finally do what I've been trained to do: be autonomous and run my projects. Love it.

I have the pleasure of having Judah spend the night with me.  At 1 1/2, he's a bundle of fun.  Ricky and Rosie (my son and daughter-in-law) are finally moving into their new home, so having the energetic toddler at Grandma's should be helpful.  His vocabulary is growing every day by leaps and bounds.  He's a blast to play with.  I also got my pretty Kayla for a few hours too.  She sure is beautiful at 6 months.  I love getting her to belly laugh.  What a joy.

I'm up to 2 miles walking!  Yeah.  I still can't run more than a few steps, bending my feet that much is still painful, but each day it gets better. I suspect I should be able to start in about 2 weeks.  That's my hope anyway.  I would like to wait until a little nice weather (though last week was awesome).

So, week-end: HERE I COME!

So Far So Good

Well 2010 started out challenging but is shaping up nicely, so far.  After subjecting myself to foot surgery only 3 days after finishing my last radiation treatment, I ended up being mostly sedentary until about 2 weeks ago.  I had pins in toes on BOTH feet. Ugh.  What was I thinking?  I couldn't drive, and could only hobble about for the entire six weeks wearing these dorky shoe/boots.  I was fortunate in that my work let me work from home that entire time.  I am very much a home-body, so it didn't bother me at first, but after about 3 weeks I was getting very antsy.

I only have two pairs of shoes I can wear so far, but I can walk.  Prior to my surgery, I was doing regular walks; averaging about 2 - 3 miles a day, 5 days a week.  I went from that to ZERO in a week.  I started up walking again only a few days after the pins were out.  I moved slow, but I started.  Each day I was able to hobble faster and faster.  Now I can go about 1.5 miles before my feet swell up such that my shoes get too tight.  In only about 15 days, I'm about 80%.  I am hoping to get the flexibility back so I can actually start running.  We'll see :)

I am determined to lose the pounds I gained sitting on my duff, so I'm consuming inordinate amounts of vegetables and very lean meats; very low fat, no carbs, and no sugars.  Hopefully the weight will come off OK. It sure does get harder the older one gets.  I'm determined to keep working on my eating habits and minimizing those that contribute to cancer (sugar is a big no-no).

Regarding the cancer?  Well, I have to go back in again in March and have a baseline mammogram.  I then visit my oncologist quarterly for this year and probably 1/2 yearly next year.  They'll do blood tests to make sure the cancer hasn't spread elsewhere and that I'm still good to go (I'm believing I'm going to be just fine). 

I can't express enough how much everyone's support, prayers, cards, phone calls, emails, and hugs have all meant.  I don't now how anyone could get through a cancer diagnosis, or any other debilitating disease, without the support of family and friends.  I met several while doing radiation - they had no one.  My heart goes out to them.

As a result of seeing those lonely souls, I determined to find a way to help them.  I don't know quite how I'll find the right vehicle to do that, but I'm going to be searching.  My first order of action, now that I can walk, is to contact the cancer center here where I was a patient.  I know there are several volunteer groups that work with cancer patients.  I hope to get that activity started within the next 60 days. (Goals are a good thing to have.)

Thank you everyone for listening to my fears and helping me through the struggle of last fall.  I couldn't have done it without you.

Love Tons,

Kat

Happy New Year

So my new year has started off strangely.  I am still hobbled with pins in both feet due to some surgery I had on the 19th of December.  I should be able to get those pins out in about 10 days or so and then maybe start driving.  Until then, I'm pretty house-bound.  Thankfully my job lets me work from home, so I don't have to take more time off of work.  I do, however, have to keep my foot elevated most of the time, which, even though I have it setup so I can, it does make me twist a little oddly and now the small of my back is aching some.  Ahh, old age.  Here it comes. I will say that James has been fabulous helping me out with my gimpy feet.  I don't know what I'd do without him.

My son and his wife are going to find out the gender of their new baby sometime this afternoon.  I am excited to hear what it will be.  I don't know if I have a preference or not, though I'm leaning towards a girl, only because they already have a sweet little boy, Judah.  Either way it will be VERY loved.  I can't wait to hold them in my arms.  It looks like the due date will be towards the end of May.

My first day back at work has been interesting.  From the get-go there have been many fires to put out.  I don't know that it could have gone any worse than it did.  Oh well.  It is just a job, I keep telling myself.

I am really looking forward to getting healthy.  I can hardly wait to get walking again (2+ miles a day) and then hopefully actually start to jog too.  I'd love to be able to do the June Susan G. Komen 5K.  I'm not sure if my feet with be OK with that, but it is a goal I have and hope to meet if my feet will let me.  I also am going to look into some kind of volunteering with terminal cancer patients.  My journey with cancer has really put them on my heart and I really need to see about doing something on that score.

So, I am really looking forward to 2010!

Happy New Year everyone! 

Happy To Be Alive

I may be kicking myself this time next week; of course, I won’t be able to kick anything given my feet will be in special hard-soled boots/shoes healing up from some much needed surgery. However, there was a method to my madness in scheduling my foot surgery so soon after the culmination of my radiation treatments. I figure that since I will not be very ambulatory, I will be forced to relax, sit on my tukas (yes, it’s a real word) and heal up, in every sense of the word. With two weeks off for the Christmas break, my natural tendency is to fill each day to the brim with post-Christmas shopping, chores, projects, and other things. I tend to return to work after the new year – exhausted. Well, not this year.



I haven’t written much these last several weeks mainly because I’m just trying to keep myself together by taking each day at a time. Wake up at 5:30 a.m., start work from my home office by 6:00 a.m. then take off at 7:30 for my radiation treatment session, then either head back home to work the remainder of the day or head in to the office (Tuesday’s and Thursday’s). James accompanies me about 2 days a week; for sure on Friday’s as that is/was the main doctor visit each week. I am so glad to have had his support for those visits, even though he would just sit in the lobby. He wanted to come every day, but I talked him out of it. So sweet to offer.



Most visits to the radiation oncology center are uneventful. I go in, change into my hospital gown and wait in the women’s waiting area with several others for my name to be called. I read magazines or occasionally stare at the puzzle table hoping to find the key piece before it’s my turn to burn. At some point, the technician comes and gets me, walking me into this vault-like room with a huge machine with a narrow table in the center. It takes several minutes to position me properly then proceed to take two x-rays (sometimes four). Then the technicians come back in to make some adjustments, then leave again. I lay there with my eyes closed and hear the slamming of the 2 foot thick door. Then comes the whine of the machine being moved into position, pause, and then the high-pitched sound that signifies the start of the radiation beam. After another pause, and the swoosh of the heavy door opening, the technicians enter again and switch a plate over the “eye” of the machine and then they march out again for another blast. I get two 30 second blasts of radiation each day. Once a week they take extra x-rays and a photo and I have a consult with the Radiation Oncologist (the doctor). The last five days were my “boost” days. They attach a special adapter onto the machine that gets the beam nearly right onto the scar area and concentrated right on that spot instead of the larger field of the previous weeks.



I’ve met some amazing women during my 6 ½ weeks there. Some are clearly dying, others, like me, going through a shorter and less invasive treatment plan. I feel very thankful every day that we caught this cancer in its early stages.



My last day of radiation treatment was Tuesday, December 15, 2009. It was to have been Monday the 14th, but on the previous Friday, the machine was broken and it meant I had to tack another day onto my treatment calendar. It was a bummer. I will say that I felt like a kid when I walked out of there on Tuesday. I almost danced a jig on my way out to the car. It felt like a huge weight had lifted off of my shoulders. The daily trips in were certainly a schedule nightmare, but the continual frying of the skin also took its toll. I’m happy to be done. I’m happy to finally be on the mend and hopefully getting my energy back. I’m happy to that my skin can finally heal and stop hurting. I’m happy to have finished before Christmas. I’m just plain happy to be alive.



A dear friend, Brenda Frank, gave me a helium-filled pink breast cancer balloon a few days before I started my treatments. I’ve had it flying from my upstairs banister from day 1. It had been my secret hope that it would remain aloft for the duration of my treatment, kind of like my secret hope to stay up and filled with hope throughout. I wasn’t so sure it would make it this last week as it began to sag and dip down lower and lower. But make it, it did. Even today, two days later, it still flies above my living room proudly. Now I’ve adjusted my goal to see if it will make it until Christmas. Hopeful, I know, but it just might make it; thank you Brenda, for the constant reminder to keep my head up, my hope up, and my chin up.

Yvonne

Yvonne's last day of radiation was Thursday.  I've gotten to know Yvonne a bit since we both sit and wait for our turn to burn each day.  We sit in our flimsy hospital gowns and chat a few minutes before the attendant comes to take us into the radiation vault.  We didn't talk the first few days, but eventually we loosened up and started to get to know each other.

I clearly am one of the lucky ones.

Yvonne is probably in her mid-sixties and it was obvious that she had chemotherapy as her hair was just starting to come back in.  I could see the bright red burn from her chest as it crept up past the neckline of her gown.  She says it has gotten quite painful of late; blistering and peeling.  I'm almost in week 3 and have had zero burning so far - again, lucky.  She has had a double mastectomy. 

The first conversation we had was when she giggled and bubbled about how her family surprised her with a trip to Maui a month or two back.  She had just finished her chemotherapy and was on the mend when a sister offerred to travel with her to visit another sister somewhere in Idaho. Yvonne met her sister at the airport for the quick hop to Idaho and both sisters were there and ushered her to a different flight - to Maui.  They spent a week there basking in the tropical breezes, experienced a luau, and generally had a wonderfully relaxing time.  Yvonne had never had a trip like that before in her life.  I heard Yvonne tell others of her trip time and time again.  Clearly it was a highlight of the last few years of her life.

On Tuesday Yvonne came in, clearly down.  Her doctor has ordered another round of chemotherapy.  She had been so looking forward to being "done" with cancer treatment.  Yvonne is still fighting for her life.  They don't know if she'll be successful.  The cancer has spread to her bones.  The day she told me that, I pulled her out of her chair and hugged her.  I immediately prayed for her asking God to bless her, comfort her, and heal her.  I only had a few seconds because I was being beckoned to my radiation chamber. 

I can't stop thinking about Yvonne.  She doesn't have anyone close by to help her through this.  I need to figure out a way to be there for her.  I don't know how yet.  But I'll figure something out.  I don't even know her last name.

I need to help Yvonne.