Again: is it cancer or not?

I just read an article on the InteliHealth web site about DCIS. It addressed the question of whether or not it's "really cancer." What I had was LCIS, the difference being one is ductal and one is lobular. The article was about ductal and suggested that maybe we shouldn't even be calling it cancer.

What I understand from the doctors I've seen over the last few months is that lobular is even less worrisome than ductal. However, the oncologist I spoke to said that they know so very little about LCIS that they really can't educate us too much about it.

Good pathology report

The surgeon called today to give me the good news: clean margins. I.e., no more cancer.

I'm feeling fine, everything is fine.

Thanks, everyone. Support is invaluable and I'm so happy I had a group of you out there rooting for me.

Surgery's done

I know this whole thing isn't over yet, but the surgery was certainly a giant step. I'm feeling pounds lighter, purely an illusion, but true none the less. Here's how I described the surgery on my other blog:

"It was so easy and interesting. How they get a wire in there with such accuracy was quite the puzzle to me, until the end of the procedure at which time the light dawned. They put a hollow needle in first. Then they fix the needle with great accuracy (and futzing around) to the coordinates and right at the metal clip that was inserted during the biopsy. Then, when it is just so, they feed a wire through the hollow tube. The end of the wire is kind of a hook. when it comes out of the needle it expands (not unlike a molly bolt) to anchor itself there. They take x-rays of it and send me off packing to the surgeon, who follows the wire and scoops out cancer cells."

I'm still a little bit out of it so may read this all in a few days and not understand a word of it. But right now I'm fascinated by the whole thing.

Thursday I get the results of the pathology. I would very much like a clean bill of health. I have developed a great respect for cancer and it's many patients. It never sounded easy, to be sure, but it now has a face and I understand even just a little bit better how difficult it really can be.

Tamoxifen

Anybody have any comments about tamoxifen? What you might have heard about it or anything else?

Good news

The information from Dr. Lechner couldn't have been better. He says my little spot of cancer is so "straightforward" that, if more cancer is not found during surgery, then he recommends only yearly mammograms after that. No radiation....did you hear that? "No radiation." That's just the best thing I've heard in a long time.

Oddly enough, I've been having a feeling lately that they would do the pathology after surgery and find NO cancer. I wondered if the biopsy could have removed it all already, and Dr. L. mentioned that as a possibility. Wouldn't that be interesting? A friend in the building, Karen, has a group of people who do healing prayers and she was quite sure they would pray all the cancer away. I thanked her heartily.

So on the 8th I go first to the radiology people to get a guide wire inserted. When they did the biopsy they put a metal clip in there to identify the area. So they will use the clip to aim the wire. Then I go across the street to the surgery center. The surgeon will somehow use that wire to guide him to the spot. Amazing.

They will remove the relevant spot plus a margin of tissue all around it. They dye each of the 4 sides of the 'block' of tissue removed. Each side is a different color. Then it's sent to pathology where they look for cancer cells, expected as well as unexpected ones. If they do find a surprise, they can tell by the color of the dye where to find the new guys.

The results will be available by the 10th. I don't know which doctor tells me the outcome, but if it's the oncologist, my appointment with him is the 16th. At that time I not only find out the results of the pathology, but we also will decide on a follow-up plan. Besides the yearly mammograms, I can elect to take Tamoxifen for 5 years as a breast cancer preventive Rx. Trouble is, one of the other medications I take may interfere with the goal of the Tamoxifen so I have to decide what to do about that other Rx. (FYI: fluoxitene, aka prozac)

Oncologist tomorrow

Tomorrow a.m., 7:30, I will see Dr. Lechner to find out just how one treats cancer in a case like mine. I'm so curious!

The next day I get lab work done in preparation for the surgery on the 8th.

Other than that, everything's normal. I'm feeling good.

Don't forget the henna party on the 12th. Let me know if you want to come! It's in honor of all those with cancer and their families. And those without cancer and those whose cancer is all gone. Really, it's just important to celebrate, isn't it?

Henna Party

I just sent an email to all my supporters (that I know of and who live close enough to drop in) inviting them to a henna party at my apartment on Sept. 12.

If you're a reader of my blog and did not received an invitation, please let me know if you'd like to come. It's a drop-in from 1 to about 3. The person doing it is very good and her hourly rate will already be paid, so you'd just need to make a donation to her.

Saying goodbye to a wonderful person

My good friend Barbara's daughter, Renee, just passed away. She was diagnosed with breast cancer 5 years ago, it came back in her lungs and then bones. I didn't know her well except through Barbara, and recently as I followed her blogs. She was a warrior in many ways and a good role model for how to face life. I wish I'd known her better, but I did know her enough to give a fond farewell as she goes to a better place.

Good news!

Yay! Woo hoo!

As you know, my original breast cancer finding was in the left breast. As part of routine screening, an MRI was done to find any other cancerous tissue on either side. Suspicious thing found on right; it led to MRI biopsy.

That was done Tuesday and I found out today from Dr. G. that it is not cancer. Therefore, we are free to go ahead and deal with the LCIS on the left. Surgery is scheduled September 8. It will be an out-patient procedure done under local anesthetic. Even though I don't technically have a lump/tumor/bump, the procedure is still referred to as a lumpectomy to avoid using the technical term (excision.)

The pathology report says the right side finding was this:

• Focal organizing fat necrosis with chronic and histiocytic inflammation and reactive fibrosis.
• Fibrocystic change, nonproliferative type.
• Negative for malignancy. :-)

I have only a vague idea what that means. If you know, do tell, but at this point I don't feel the need to scour the literature for data.

The workshop and the biopsy

Sounds like a promising movie or book title. Only I don't want to write it. But it does fit the blog post today. It's a little long but it's been a fun-packed two days & I didn't want to leave anything out. Including a picture of my henna'd hand! There was a great woman/excellent henna artist sitting next to me yesterday who kindly offered to henna anyone who wanted to be designed upon. Of course I wanted to. This is a picture of what she did to me. I'm hooked!

The workshop itself was pretty amazing....hearing lots of cancer stories was eye-opening. I had no idea how many kind of cancer, how many kinds of breast cancer, how many diagnostics and how many treatments there are. And am finally getting it how nasty cancer can be. I read something today that I will quote here:

"The tumor is a foreign entity that does not respect him and finally destroys him, without even respecting structures such as blood vessels, muscles, lymph nodes. It grows by transgressing every structure, every border. We can easily understand what happens when we compare the patient to a country that has borders and an army to defend its integrity as a country. If an enemy soldier crosses the border and establishes himself inside the country and the army is not well-trained enough to capture the enemy, to imprison him or to kill him, the enemy will call his friends and other soldiers will pass the border and settle down. Their base will be stronger and stronger. Without any respect for the original people, they will destroy everything around them which is not to their own advantage and will take all the food that was intended for the indigenous people. They will send soldiers to other places in the country (metastasis) to take over all the power of the country. The only possibility the country has finally is to ask other countries to help it and to attack the enemy with heavy weapons (surgery, radiation and chemotherapy). But such a massive fight greatly weakens the country and the outcome is very uncertain.

On the cellular level the same process takes place. The membrane of the cell is unstable and weak and the cell is ingesting toxins, not able to defend its integrity. These ingested poisons damage his normal functioning, creating anarchy and estranging himself from his own essence."

Up to that time I was trying to be "nice" to my cancer...telling it that I understand it likes being in my breasts (no jokes, here, OK?) but that it could kill me and could it please just leave? Reading the above made me feel like looking for an Uzi.

So anyway, the workshop gave me a good perspective and info I need desperately about how to relax.

The birthday aspect was good, too. Everyone seemed to want to celebrate with me which made the weird juxtaposition work a lot better. Lara took me to dinner at a funky little Mexican restaurant right on the water at Hoodsport. That was perfect. If you don't already know Lara, she is the most amazing person/daughter/friend/massage therapist anyone could have. I couldn't be more honored/grateful/happier to have her around. I told her I didn't know what I'd do without her and she said I probably just wouldn't laugh as much. SO TRUE. She's funny!

Today: MRI biopsy. Piece of cake. I did learn NOT to look in the little tiny mirror as they wheeled me in and out of the Tube. (Why it's there I don't know, but it gave me a tiny view of what was directly ahead of me.) As long as I ignored the mirror I was fine and really could have dozed off. They gave me a bunch of lidocaine injections which were hardly noticeable, and then I absolutely felt nothing from then on. Amazing.

By the way, don't ever assume that that any medical team knows what you know about your own medical history. I make sure to always mention to anyone giving me shots of anesthesia that I can't have epinephrine. Did that today, and they said, "Oh, we did not know." I don't ever blame anyone for that and just think that I'm part of the team (no matter what some snooty doctors might think) so it's my responsibility to provide crucial info like this.

Drum roll: results Thursday. Let's all hope it's good. ( Although I happen to know that "suspicious" in doctor-speak means they think it's cancer. I also know that they can't know for sure until they look at the biopsy...so I'm keeping an open mind.)

Harmony Hill

Today, besides being a big birthday for me (65), Lara and I are going to a one-day workshop at Harmony Hill called "Tools for the Journey." I'm really looking forward to it. If you've never been there, it's worth a drive to just stop by and walk the grounds. Three labyrinths, beautiful views, lots of gardens. I love it there.

I finally had a whole day to myself yesterday and feel quite refreshed. No kidding...I feel great. I tidied up the place so it feels homey and cozy again. Watched Bread and Tulips (an Italian movie...it's wonderful) and finished a book. And lazed around. :-) It was so so relaxing.

Thanks for all your kind and wise words...I love you all!

Solitude

Right now I crave solitude so I want everyone to know that I will be mostly at home. As much as possible. I love emails, though, so write all you want!

Today I decided to skip some Salmon Steward training, after much deliberation. I really love the trainings they have and did not want to bypass the first one of the year. But I listened to my little voices instead. Good thing, they can get pretty annoying if I ignore them for very long.

I'm getting great tips from people and books:

• put a picture up of myself that creates the kind of atmosphere or feeling that I would find helpful;
• alone time;
• watch Groundhog Day;
• there are free massages at a local massage place...woo hoo!

Keep 'em coming.

Appointment schedule has changed

MRI biopsy is now Tuesday the 18th

Surgeon's appointment is Aug 20th

Oncologist is the 31st.

I am grateful for the helpful people I've met all along the way. Everyone bends over backwards to expedite this process. It's definitely a maze, one which would be frustrating if the people in this business were not so understanding. Thanks to everyone!

More on the MRI results

I got a call this morning saying the MRI showed something suspicious in the other breast, so could I please come in and get an ultrasound? Yes of course. And an hour later they were putting warm goo on the right breast and looking for the oddball.

My breasts are what they refer to as "dense" so it's hard to see much of anything. (They said this a.m. that anything could be hiding behind what they see as solid black on the ultrasound.) However, the area of interest did appear for them and they thought that, since I already have cancer on the other breast, this spot warranted a closer look. Next week I get a biopsy with the aid of MRI equipment. That's Wednesday at the crack of dawn.

I told Dan I'll do anything they say except for a mastectomy or chemo. (I was feeling pouty and rebellious.) He listened as I went on and on with the details & then had some wise words. Namely, if I really do have dense breasts, then I will be "playing peek-a-boo" for the rest of my life, always wondering if there are cancer cells hiding behind the dense tissue. Good point. My mind immediately started thinking that maybe mastectomy wouldn't be such a bad idea. I really don't think I'd like to always be wondering what else is lurking.

Oncologist appointment is August 31. Not sure when I'll see the surgeon yet. It WAS scheduled for the 18th, but I think they'll want to wait until the biopsy results are available. Based on this it looks like surgery will be in September.

MRI results

I had the MRI yesterday. Good grief...they are expensive! $2,270. And I had to sign something saying I still wanted it even if Medicare didn't pay for it. I'm counting on my secondary insurance to cover it. (Isn't it interesting that I started Medicare in the same month that I start delving into cancer treatments etc.?)

So anyway, Melodie (my cancer navigator at Providence Cancer Center) said she'd see if the radiologist would talk to me about the MRI results. Later she said he agreed to and that he'd call today at around noon. However, today she called me saying he would rather talk to me after my surgeon talks to me. Understandable. I know that the lead person is the surgeon in this kind of thing and that other people involved would not want to step on his toes.

My first appointment with the oncologist, Dr. Lechner, is next Tuesday, just before I see the surgeon again. They'll both have the MRI results. That's perfect timing for me...I'll see what they both recommend before I decide what the next step is. Still am torn about whether to do radiation or not.

I'm starting to perk up again after a couple of weeks of fatigue. Someone should've warned me to get more sleep than usual. Oh wait, cousin Marie did mention one evening that she noticed I was still on-line at 2 a.m. and told me to get to bed. So I've been trying harder to go to bed earlier than usual and it helps. (ooops, it's almost midnight and I'm nowhere near ready to hit the sack.)

I’m going to start filling up my fridge with green veggies. I remember hearing right after 9-11 that they help control stress. Gotta start getting some fun new habits like this. Besides, I love love love a big bowl of steamed broccoli! And spinach. And kale. Hmmmm, maybe I should bring my juicer to the apartment and start juicing too. Makes big sense.

Setting the record straight

Because I'd been hearing that maybe people thought I didn't actually have cancer, I thought I better explain. This is the easiest cancer I can imagine having because it has not spread. (The terminology for that is either "in situ" or "Stage Zero.")

I did a bunch of internet searching for Lobular Carcinoma In Situ (LCIS) when I first got the diagnosis 7/20. A lot of the info seemed to be saying it's not cancer. Huh? Then what does "carcinoma" mean? After talking to the pathologist and the surgeon I must say it's still not black and white. It's considered by some to be not cancer because it hasn't spread from the lobe. But I was also told there are different definitions of cancer. Which leaves me in a gray area.

Bottom line, my surgeon says that no matter what, if I'm ever "in a group where the leader asks who has had breast cancer to raise their hand," I'm one of the ones who get to raise their hand. That seems pretty clear, eh?

More waiting

I thought my appointments would just start rolling along like a well-oiled conveyer belt (even though Nancy warned me that that probably would not happen.) My first appointment was 2 1/2 weeks after the diagnosis and it seemed that that appointment would turn on the action switch. On my part it did. Had lab work done this afternoon. Will have MRI tomorrow (to look for stray cancer growths not visible on mammogram.)

But doctor's schedules are out of my control it seems. I called surgeon to schedule the next appointment which could've been two days after the MRI but he's out all week. And I can't schedule the oncologist until i see the surgeon. So I will just enjoy a quiet week and try to clean up my apartment. It's piled with boxes, mail, bags and parts of a bathtub tower are strewn over the hallway. I thought it would be easy so just dumped them all out. There they sit. I've been gone a few days and am not home much as a rule so it needs help.

Gotta go take a nap.

Anyone have any advice or info about radiation treatment? I know the reasons to have it and some to not have it. Would like input.

Stage Zero!

My entourage and I met with Dr. G. yesterday to find out what my next steps are. He was great: besides being articulate and patient, he had a great twinkle in his eye. I took this as license to go to my bent humor side. In fact, I probably got carried away because I started feeling hyper so by the time I was done I was exhausted. After almost 3 weeks of waiting for this appointment it stands to reason that nervous energy had built up, and therefore is understandable that it all came to a head yesterday.

Enough of that. You want to know what's going on. Well...the really great news is that it's "Stage zero" cancer. Earlier than early is how I think of it. After an MRI on Tuesday (to determine if the cancer has spread beyond the lobe) I will schedule an outpatient surgery. It will require only a local anesthetic and maybe 2 days of recovery. So far so good.

Then..........the doctor said something about radiation following surgery. What??? Radiation??? That totally caught me off-guard. I had not anticipated that and reacted like a whiny 2 year old. "No! I'm not doing radiation." "Why not?" he asks. I tried to skirt the answer because I really didn't know why. He wouldn't let me get away with it, though...and, get this, I said, "Because I don't want to get sick." Yeah, I heard myself. He pretty much said, if you want to make sure the cancer does not come back, your choices are radiation or mastectomy. Oh.

Lara and I are scheduled for a one-day cancer workshop on the 17th, my 65th birthday. Is that just a little weird? But, it's at Harmony Hill, one of my favorite places on the planet so I'm excited about it.

Oh, and you people who've volunteered to help...you're still on, even if I don't NEED help. I decided I WANT it! Yay!

Ever heard of a Cancer Navigator?

Today my brother called to say he had just met a woman, Melodie Petersen, who is the new (and first) Cancer Navigator at Providence Cancer Center in Olympia. He gave me her number, I called her right away and have already talked to her 3 times today. If you know me, you know I'm curious (sometimes to a fault, I'm told) (but that can't be true....data is our friend) so to find someone whose job it is to answer all my questions is my idea of heaven. I also get the idea that if I ever do start freaking out, she would field the freakiness. One hesitates to unload on unsuspecting friends so I am very happy she's around.

Ironically I was trying to dream up a way that I could be a lay version of her before Steve even called. The last 2 weeks have been frustrating for me as I try to get accurate information and succumb to the waiting game. I wanted to invent something that would give breast cancer neophytes someplace immediate to go to. And lo and behold, someone else had the same idea and did it! I don't care, I still want to be involved so offered to be a volunteer for her. It's right up my alley, all except for the part that I have no medical background.

I had someone come clean my apartment today. Somehow I just wanted my environment to be all organized and sparkly before the treatments start. If any....apparently my kind of cancer has the potential to be even an easier walk in the park than I originally surmised. Well, if it turns out to be "practically nothing," then at least my place will be clean.

I told my EFT/acupuncturist today that this kind of cancer is called, by the American Cancer Society, not a "true cancer." He decided it was "fake cancer" and we made a lot of fake cancer jokes. As I was scheduling an appointment later, I told him I was going to a cancer retreat in a couple of weeks. With a straight face he told me he was surprised they'd let me in. It took a couple seconds for me to get the joke in there. I have to admit, I thought maybe they should give the spot to someone with "real" cancer, but then pulled myself together and figured I'll just go anyway!

Is LCIS cancer or not?

Some people (myself included) have read on the internet that my kind of cancer really isn't cancer. I knew better because I knew that a pathologist verified the presence of cancer. So today, I looked in one more place on-line, the American Cancer Society, and here's what they say:

Lobular carcinoma in situ

Although not a true cancer, lobular carcinoma in situ (LCIS; also called lobular neoplasia) is sometimes classified as a type of non-invasive breast cancer, which is why it is included here. It begins in the milk-producing glands but does not grow through the wall of the lobules.

Most breast cancer specialists think that LCIS itself does not become an invasive cancer very often, but women with this condition do have a higher risk of developing an invasive breast cancer in the same breast or in the opposite breast. For this reason, women with LCIS should make sure they have regular mammograms.

The pathologist's report

Finally I have something specific to call this thing. I read the pathologist's report today and here's what it says:

Mammary carcinoma in situ with the following features:

• Histologic type: lobular carcinoma in situ * (E-cadherin negative)
• Tumor grade: intermediate
• Necrosis: Present
• Associated calcifications: present
• No invasive carcinoma
  
• Estrogen receptor: positive
• Progesterone receptor: positive

* I've poked around on the internet hoping to find some black and white definition of all the above. Some of it is less than b & w, however. I think I will just file it away in the part of my brain that wants to put it on hold until more clear info arrives. I.e., when I see surgeon next week.

Thank you to everyone! I love you all.

Going inward

I am so lucky to have great friends who know exactly what to say. Their words remind me that I can do this my way. For example, today I just want to stay quietly at home and take care of things I've been neglecting. Tomorrow is our family reunion which I usually look forward to but I'm not eager about it this year...I don't want to go but need to not feel guilty about it.

Another interesting thing has come up and that is how to handle people who give unsolicited advice, which I'm getting too much of right now. I myself have done that in the past but in the last few years made a conscious effort to keep my "wisdom" to myself. It is so, so much better to be a compassionate listener, at least from my perspective. So for any of you who are wondering what to do for me, that is at the top of the list. It feels really good. And for those of you who have given advice, I love you for it, but you can probably stop and I'll be just fine.

The exception of course is any advice you can give about what to expect from the whole cancer thing. I'm especially curious about the ups and downs and how do you talk yourself through them?

Let the Roller Coaster begin

Those first few days....did they sound just a little too chirpy to you? Yeah, me too. I had a little sweet voice in my skull telling me that there would be ups and downs (not too hard to figure that out) so it wasn't a big surprise when I started quaking emotionally.

I'm trying not to over-mentalize but old habits die hard, so I had to ask myself...how can a conceivably simple case cause anxiety? Talked to my counselor about it and he says: mortality. Yep. Just the thought of cancer makes one automatically start thinking about it. I guess that must be it.

This morning a mini-panic started. Breathing hard, stomach in knots, restless. Without thinking about what to do about it I headed straight for the TV room, jumped on my little couch and turned on my little TV. Pulled a blanket around me and just watched whatever came on. That room was so cute at one time, but not now. I slowly have been pulling all the furniture in close to the couch. This a.m. I realized it was some sub-conscious method of creating coziness...a nest? Whatever. It works.

I did finally wash my dishes yesterday but can't find my camera to take a picture to prove it to you. It felt good to get rid of that mess. So here's a picture of one of Jill's peonies for you instead of the clean kitchen.

Oh, I met a friend of Steve's, too....he's a cabinet-maker and is going to come over with Steve someday and figure out how to build me some more counter space in my semi-kitchen. Yay!

What I'm doing today: making banana bread, lunch at Steve's and going to see Ugly Truth with Bonnie. I seem to be filling my time in a hyper kind of way. I really need some down time to relax and meditate a little bit.

Taking advantage of cancer

This is a riot. I'm basically a hedonist (i.e. kinda lazy) who would rather read than do anything. So up comes cancer and now all of a sudden I have an excuse! "Ohhhh, I just am too tired." Or, "Life is meant to be playful, not drudgery....I can do the dishes next week." Really, it might be next week at the rate I'm going. Next to my sink is a very neat grouping of stacks of dirty dishes that hearken back 4 days. I feel absolutely no guilt, either. It's pretty fun. Is this a lesson about 'shoulds?'

If so, then I really do love cancer. (ewwww....that sounds sick...) But, really, I do love it if it means I can learn and truly internalize some new belief systems that work better. We all keep hearing about how shoulds are unnecessary and probably harmful, but does that make us stop acting should-ish? No, not me, anyway. Shoulds are so fricking insipid, hard to recognize, and camouflaged as responsible behavior. But here this beautiful demon comes along and automatically melts away that which does not serve. I for one want to take advantage of that.

I said the other night that I had some immediate demonstrations of such meltings and that I would talk about them later. Here's one: I had been spending a lot of time thinking and dreaming about the new camera I want....instead of aiming for a step above my current one, I was looking in an uppermore stratosphere. I kept reading about it, looking for sales, and hovering over it at Costco. But Monday night a camera thought crossed my mind and I had absolutely no attachment to it. I was pretty surprised. Asked myself where all the passion went. Then it hit me and a grin grew on my face as it dawned on me what was going on: the petty and the material were losing stature. And that's something I've been striving for, so doesn't that sound like a good thing!

New subject: I want to put off any surgery until the weather cools off. My apartment is an oven and I have summer hot flash-itis. That makes for a miserable sounding time to spend laid up in a bed that's in an oven, right? So, if no-one else is in a hurry I don't think I will rush this.

THESE PICTURES
I am pretty comfortable with my relationships with inanimate beings so I told my daughter the other night, Lara, that she shouldn't worry about me being alone. Here are my friends Tom the Mug, George, and Beebee Bear. You can just tell how close we all are, can't you? And there are my dishes, patiently waiting.

wtf....i uploaded 3 pictures but only one is showing. any blogspot people know what's wrong? Plus, I lose my paragraphs and have to go back to edit to add some returns. This didn't used to happen.

This is George (the brains of this particular duo) biting Tom's spectacular nose. I really do love these guys.

And this is Beebee. Lara must've taken this shot when I wasn't looking. Too strange. Anyway, Beebee has been passed back & forth between Lara and me for a few decades. Whoever needs the most emotional support has custody. He really is quite dear.

Day 3 is starting

Gotta remember these things:

• get on cancellation list for Dr. G
• get x-rays
• look up American Cancer Society
• look up Breast Cancer Resource Center in Tacoma
• get Fred Hutchison hotline numbeR
• Life is good
  

REALITY IS SETTLING IN

Yesterday was a little bit hyper...when things slowed down Lara called and asked if I wanted her to come down for the night. I jumped on it as I didn't feel like being alone. In fact, for the first time in my life, I was actually afraid to fall asleep. My theory is that I was afraid of letting go of control. Once I realized that I went right to bed and crashed. Fell asleep without my usual 2 hours of reading.

Today was pretty interesting. I wasn't sure how long I could keep up the pollyanna tune and if gut-wrenching fear would take over. That didn't happen but some other things did creep in that I didn't anticipate. In general they all had to do with 'new perspectives.' I've heard that cancer does that to a person. Experiencing it, especially within 24 hours, was surprising. I'll write more about it tomorrow because I really like the new way of thinking. But not tonight; I'm bushed.

Oh...to document my day:

• Lara and I went to the Hearthfire Restaurant to celebrate this new phase of my life;
• we went to a movie, The Hangover, so that we could start my laughing campaign. We did laugh, but OMG how crude. Please tell me guys aren't really like that.
• I made my first appointment with the surgeon. It will be August 6 at 2:30. Susan, alas, won't be in town so can't go with me, but Lara probably will.
  

Day one: DIAGNOSIS

Last month I had my annual mammogram with some "suspicious" results so had a follow-up x-ray that zoomed in on the area. They still didn't like what they saw (calcifications) so scheduled me for a biopsy. I truly expected it to be a formality to rule out cancer because of the low probability of cancer from calcifications (15%). Also because I had some old scar tissue in that area which could've been the cause of the calcifications.

Well, today my wonderful doctor, Suzy Adams, called to give me the news that it really is cancer. Wow! Fortunately my friend, Susan, a breast cancer survivor herself, happened to be sitting right in front of me when I got the call. After I hung up, Susan and I brainstormed for a couple of hours and she clarified some points for me. Extremely lucky, wouldn't you say?

Dr. Suzy is calling my surgeon, Dr. Chris Griffith, tomorrow to set up my first appointment. She says he's the best in Olympia....glad to hear that! (For those of you whom I told that he was an oncologist: wrong Dr. Griffith. The one I'm seeing is the surgeon Dr. G.)

The only 2 things I know right now are that it is very early stage and it is in situ, which simply means it is non-invasive, a good thing.

I've already come up with some benefits of a cancer diagnosis: friends will visit and cook for me. I have an excuse to watch lots of funny movies. I just got invited to a salmon BBQ just so I could meet a breast cancer survivor. (It can always be said of me that I will find the good side of a mud puddle if anyone can, and that certainly isn't going to be any different now.)

Right away it occurred to me to start a blog. Why? I will be better able to keep track of all the information that will be coming my way. People can find out about my progress. It helps me to write about stuff. And most of all, I'd really like to hear from people....not only words of support from my current buddies, but from any other breast cancer survivors referred here to talk about what to expect. So feel free to share my address with others. The more the better! I refuse to go through this alone! Thanks!

Susan says these are questions to ask the doctor:

1. how many tumors are there?
2. where are they?
3. has the cancer gone into the lymph nodes?
4. how much area needs to be removed safely?
5. what kind of cancer is it exactly?

Any other questions I should be asking?

HELP
If you're wondering how you can help: I will be looking for a few people to take turns staying at my apartment with me. Susan assures me that I will not be able to do everything for myself just yet. I probably will also need a coordinator who can keep track of helpers. Maybe not....but am putting it out there just in case.