Really?

I drove out to 139th and SE Stark this morning for a consultation with the endodontist that took less than a minute. My gum tissue looks fine. And that's all he wanted to see. But they'll need to see me again in six months for a check up.

I also scheduled my six-month check up with my regular dentist.

So.....looks like I now have a team of dentists. Much like my team of doctors.

Next appointment: Dr. Bader, the radiation oncologist, on December 7th.

It would be soooooo great to go a year without having to see any doctors.  But that's soooooo not possible after one turns 40 apparently

More dentistry

First, I'm embarrassed that I haven't blogged since July 19. Pathetic. Not that anyone's desperately hanging on for my next gem....but I really should be diligent for my own good.

I do have tooth news. The root canal didn't take. I bit into a delicious piece of pork crackling while in France (where they are not afraid of animal fat) and the ensuing pain led to dental surgery during which they cut into the gums above the offending tooth to do something (cauterize?) the offending nerve.

I had this done under local anesthetic - the second surgery I've had under local and I realize now that I'd always naively believed that surgeons were very gentle with their patients while operating. Not so. Once the anesthetic takes effect they stab and saw, chop and sew. Its barbaric. Well, almost.

Four days later, the swelling has gone down but I still look like the victim of domestic abuse with black eye and bruised cheek. I hope this procedure takes.

A Meaningful LIfe

"Knowing their life has meaning and that it will continue beyond them seems to lessen the white-knuckle grip on life and give them a sense of peace."

This came from something I just read in the Wall Street Journal about a series of classes Sloane Kettering offers for cancer patients. I think there might be applicable learnings for everyone. The curriculum is as follows:

• BC and AD (before cancer and after diagnosis): think about the past and what cancer has taken away. Find ways to still enjoy things.
• Historical sources of meaning: reflect on family, the era in which you grew up and even the meaning of your name. Remember the times you have been brave.
• Encountering life's limitations: you can still choose your attitude. Discussion question: what would be a meaningful death?
• What could live on beyond yourself?
• Resolve issues from the past.
• Transcend the limits imposed by cancer. Make life meaningful even if you're just lying in bed.
• Experience life: list the things you love or find beautiful.
• Work on a "legacy" project: write a book; create a piece of art; pass down a family recipe; "be the courageous person people think I am."

Recommended reading:
Frankl - Man's search for meaning
Death of Ivan Ilyich - in which he becomes the person he wants to be in the last five minutes of life.

And now, my teeth.

I'm thinking that broadening the subject matter of this blog might serve it/me well. So instead of reflecting only on cancer treatment, it'll now include observations on other physical failings. As I've noted elsewhere, once one turns 40 the wheels really do fall off.

This week: my teeth. I had a root canal. Two weeks ago, my dentist asked how things are going and after confirming that everything was fine, I made an off-hand remark about occasional sensitivity to cold in the tooth behind my canine tooth on the upper-right side. Cut to last Friday, and I'm Novocained up to the eyeballs (well, almost - I lost sensitivity in my nose) at the endodontist. I was referred there after they discovered that the root in this tooth is shaped like an "S" as opposed to the more conventional/desirable "I." Tricky.

Side note: during the procedure, the endodontist discussed the UofO football team, the Seattle Mariners and the fact that he'd just found his cell phone after ordering two alternates from Verizon - he was most anxious for his staff NOT to sign for delivery of the new phones. I think he's a good dentist - just very chatty....

But I survived my first root canal relatively unscathed, although the Novocaine hangover is still with me. Now all that remains is for me to go back to my dentist to get the temporary filling made permanent. Pity, then, that his office is closed for a week. I'll have to get used to chewing everything on the left side of my mouth for a while.

Diversions - Encore Une Fois

Just got back from Evoe. As you may recall, its had a few mentions in this blog throughout the year. It still ranks as my most favorite eating experience of all time. Yes, even in front of the brunch at Beast.

My friend Heather and I enjoyed a magnificent chevre over arugula, a warm pea salad kinda thing on brioche (peas on toast) and some delicious scallops with a lemony vegetable thing which I can't put a name to, but was bloody good. Then we had a cheese plate. Clearly, I am a terrible restaurant critic, but you should surely try this place based on the knowledge that I am quite a picky eater.

I have only one health update: I am, apparently, very deficient in vitamin D. My ob-gyn is insisting I take 4000 IU per day (which is, like, 1000% of what one needs according to those that count these things.) Current thinking is that vitamin D deficiency is a contributing factor to breast cancer (really?) and (more likely to my mind) a factor in risk for osteoporosis - something I have to look out for now I'm in early menopause. So I'm vitamin D-ing it up. If I remain 5' 8" well into my 80s we'll know its worked :)

One Year(ish) On

Had annual mammograms on Friday. I got quite anxious waiting around for a doctor to look at them and relay the message back to me that they looked OK. Plus the changing rooms at Providence are the size of small broom cupboards. Talk about claustrophobia. I was glad to learn that they're opening a more swanky diagnostic facility soon.

And I just came back from my 6-month check in with Dr. Bader. Not much to report other than we studied the scar tissue on the mammograms for a while and talked about gardening.

It is, actually, one year almost to the day since I was diagnosed (June 11 to be precise.) I'm trying no to dwell on that. I get a bit emotional if I think about it too much.

But Dr. Bader looked me directly in the eye and told me I'd be fine.

I'm holding him to that.

95%

That's about where I'm at in terms of how I'm feeling. Most things are functioning normally. Only two residual side effects: digestive system has yet to find its groove and I wake up every morning with really stiff, painful hands and feet.

It may be that 95% is as good as its going to get.

It may be that 95% is as good as anyone ever feels.

We're coming up to the anniversary of my diagnosis. So I'll be having mammograms and a consultation with Dr. Bader at the end of next week. I have to say I'm quite anxious about this, although the likelihood of anything having recurred are less than general population at this point. Its probably just that I don't want to find out how much I weigh......

Two Countries Divided By A Common Language

Just back from first visit to the UK post diagnosis. It was very interesting how my British family and friends approached the subject of my health. Most asked me how I'm feeling, said I looked good and that was it. With one exception, perhaps: I'm sure my friend Caroline would have liked to hear more were it not for her needle phobia.

My American friends and family, in contrast, like to get deep into the detail of the whole process.

I'm sure both groups are equally curious, its just that the British are too polite.

I don't mind either way.

Separately, I think I've managed to pack back on every single pound lost since treatment began, due to the endless celebrating both in the States and across Europe.

But who cares? Life, as we know, is too short.

Hair

I've had a few strangers compliment me on my hair arrangement of late. Initially I responded by explaining that its more of a "grow back" than a "cut." Friends who overhear and who (clearly) know the deal have exclaimed (explained) outright that I have cancer. But I'm finding its easier (of course) just to thank the compliment-ers. It's nice. I may keep this "do."

Blog blog blo bl.....

Its cold and rainy in Portland, Oregon. We just hiked with the dogs through Forest Park - about four miles. I was soaked to the bone but its so nice to be able to get out there and do it, in spite of the stereotypical Portland weather (perhaps even enhanced by it.)

In a short while, I'll be off to do an advanced Pilates class on the Reformer.

And later this afternoon I'm going for a swim at my swanky gym that I don't use enough (the venerable Multnomah Athletic Club.)

From all this you'd think I'd embarked on a rigorous work-out regimen. But, in truth, I get this motivated maybe one day a week. I need to figure out something a little more frequent, n'est-ce pas?

Chest scar all cleared up so no more antibiotics. And, in theory, no more doctor appointments until May.

Minimalism

This week Dr Urba recommended, and I agreed, to a minimalist approach to follow up. Now, I kinda had this conversation with Dr. Bader already, but Dr Urba brings a more academic viewpoint to the discussion.

Some people prefer blood draws at regular intervals to test for indicators that the cancer is coming back or already present. This may be reassuring at some level, but can cause extra stress as one waits for results and there's high risk of a false positive (and subsequent debate and distress over need for treatment.) The minimalist POV starts from the premise that there's no cure for cancer, only miserable treatment. So why not wait until you know for sure that you actually have it before embarking on another course of misery. Ergo self exam, annual mammograms and a visit with one of my team (Bader or Urba) once every three months for a couple of years.

Makes sense to me.

In other news: chest scar still infected so am now on antibiotics and going back to see Dr. Lim tomorrow to deal with these non-dissolving dissolving sutures.

Errrr.....

These two jokers clearly enjoy wreaking havoc while we're out of the house. What you see here is the remains of a decorative pillow. We'll be vacuuming feathers for years to come I fear.

I have a follow-up appointment with the oncologist on Monday. It occurred to me earlier this week that I should probably get blood drawn to make sure my insides are fine post chemo. So I called them and they agreed. Another good example of the "I'm my best advocate" principle.

Separately (and yuckily) on review of my port scar last night, I realised it was infected - one of the dissolving sutures hasn't dissolved. So, because I'm ROCK HARD, I actually managed to get most of the offending suture out myself. I'll leave the rest up to the nurses on Monday.

And this is me

Why are my eyes closed? Can't speak and look at people at the same time?

Anyway, here I am at the lovely party thrown for me by my dear friends to celebrate the end of treatment. I'm so grateful to have such wonderful people in my life.

See what I mean about the hair? I mean, its not bad, right?

Deja Vu

This coming Thursday my friends are throwing a party to celebrate my "amazing ability to conquer disease with disdain." Ironic, then, that I should be laid low with a stupid cold. I'm back on the couch, the TV and the dogs as my companions, feeling like a pile of crap. I have two days to get back my invincibility.

Wait...there's a movie in there somewhere....."How Bex Got Her Invincibility Back..."

New Dog

I'm a lousy post-treatment patient

I still haven't contacted Dr. Urba's office....

But I feel great!

And I just can't face more doctor appointments right now.

Also I have the strong (possibly misguided) belief that I'll continue to be fine, its not coming back and/or it won't be the thing that kills me (fatal car crash as a result of my husband's driving 100% more likely.)

In other news, I'm kinda digging my new hair. It's long enough to look like I might have actually elected to cut it this way. Still a bit cold, though.

Onwards

I met with Dr Bader, the radiation oncologist, this morning in large part to check up on my progress post radiation but also so I could get a fix on what I'm supposed to do next - I've heard different versions now from different doctors and in one case from the same doctor.

I think I've got it now:

• I have absolutely got to stick to a regular self-exam schedule (it turned out to be life-saving this time...)
  
• I will have one bi-lateral mammogram per year
• At this time I'll meet with the radiation oncologist
• A copy of the mammogram will be sent to the surgeon (unlike many cancer surgeons, Dr Lim likes to keep tabs on his patients.) He may or may not want to meet with me at this time (depends on how he's feeling, I guess...)
  
• Copies will also go to the medical oncologist (Dr. Urba), my ObGyn and my regular doctor
• I'll happily mail signed copies to any of you, dear readers
  
• And I'll need to set up a schedule with Dr Urba's office to get blood drawn a few times annually to check on if/how the chemo is affecting me
  

I hope I remember all this.

In other news my left breast (the offending one) looks almost the same as the right breast (hooray!) but apparently that will change as I age (sigh.) Maybe it changes for everyone.

And the chances of this crap returning in the next two years are nominal. Thereafter I'm at the same level of risk as any woman my age, as long as I don't take up smoking (natch.)

Port Out Starboard Home

I suspect not many people will get that reference.

Anyway, here it is, in a jar of formaldehyde (the port, that is.) Dr Lim gave it to me to keep for posterity.

The procedure was quite nerve wracking. Although the area was heavily anesthetized and my head was averted the whole time, there's a certain amount of discomfort associated with having someone dig around your chest wall to cut open the sutures that keep a port in place.

Glad that's done. And now I have something really good for Show & Tell tomorrow at work :)

Nothing Compares 2 U

If I was smaller and darker in complexion then I might pass for Sinead O'Connor during her shaved-head period right now. I suppose what I mean is, I currently have Sinead's hair.

I might show it off at a party my friend Paul is throwing for me in Seattle this weekend.

Peeling

There's a section under my left arm pit that's mahogany brown - tanned like its from the '70s. I tan easily (for a fair person) but this is ridiculous. As of this week the top layer of skin is now peeling away to reveal the pale stuff underneath. Weird. Especially since its only in one spot.

Separately I'm trying to get my digestive system back in order. Although I suppose everyone is, subsequent to the holiday consumption madness (exacerbated by the snow.)

I suspect its going to take some time to straighten out this system, however.

Tips, anyone?

Radiation Over

I just graduated (that was 32 treatments in total.) They even gave me a certificate. I think I'll file it with my Grade 6 piano and swimming survival certificates (which are two separate activities although playing the piano while treading water for an hour would definitely be certificate worthy.)

Next medical activity is getting this bloody port removed. Thereafter I'll be having four check ups annually - two with Dr Urba and two with Dr Bader.

But I'll think about that next week after this weekend's super mountain fun. Yes, we're going up to Mt. Hood for a couple days R&R with friends. Hurrah!