On Facebook there is a survey going around called "25 Things". If you are tagged, you are supposed to list 25 things about yourself that not many people know. These are mine.
1. I love men's hands. So much so, that I have a top 10 list that includes my husband's hands, my dads, and Ben Afflecks.
2. One of the things on my "To Do Before I Die" list is to sing the national anthem at a professional sporting event. Until now, I've only ever told one person that because, with my family, I was worried they'd actually find a way to make it happen.
3. In my high school psych class, for fun, they gave us a Mensa exam and I passed. It was a goal of mine to take the real test and try to pass before I was 35. I used to study for it, but then I got pregnant and in a phenomena I don't understand, half of my brain did an intelligence dump.
4. I want to tour every state in the US, except Arizona and New Mexico. I have a thing against visiting places where death lurks around every corner. (OCD Alert!)
5. Galveston was one of my favorite cities. I cried when they showed the aftermath of Hurricane Ike.
6. I hate going to big events where other people I know are going to be (like sporting events, or community functions)-- because I can't see them. My eyes are so bad that unless you are standing right in front of me, I won't recognize you. You are a blur. I always worry that I slighted someone on accident.
7. I don't mind being OCD, but I sincerely wish I could control what I was obsessed with! Imagine the places I could go if I could just obsess on writing for a year or two instead of being plagued with OTHER things I MUST do! Or run. I could be a little energy ball if I could just obsess on running for awhile.
8. My daughter gets big birthday parties mainly because of the movie "Ya Ya Sisterhood". There's a line in there that Sandra Bullock says about how her mom may have been really screwed up, but she knew how to do birthdays really well. I figure I'm gonna screw up a lot, so I can give good birthday parties.
9. Waterproof mascara makes my eyelashes fall out.
10. I am a huge fan of the Oregon Ducks, only because one day my sister December and I were riding in the car and talking football. We decided it was too much work to root for two Oregon teams and needed to make one ours. We decided on U of O because we liked the color green more than orange.
11. One of the best movies I've ever seen is "Life As a House", but I never list it in my favorites because no one else seems to have heard of it.
12. I hate unloading the dishwasher. It is Mike's job. If he hasn't done it, and I need to do dishes, I will hand wash them before emptying the thing.
13. I answer to, and currently use, no less that five different names.
14. If my house is messy, I can't think. Literally, my brain will mimic the mess- makes me unbearable to live with because I need a clean brain. You know what I mean.
15. I know the hiding places of nearly all of my friends "unmentionables", along with strict instructions about what to do with them should they die unexpectedly. And, even though they've also told me where the keys to their house are hidden, I never know if they are serious or not about infiltrating their homes and scurrying out that which they do not want found.
16. I sometimes say things simply for the shock value of it, or because I want to see what the person does with the information.
17. The most fun I've ever had playing the game Hide and Seek was when I was a senior in high school and we cordoned off the area in Newberg that is Bi-Mart, McDonald's, State Farm Insurance... and used it as our hiding grounds.
18. If I'm really, really angry, the only way to calm down quickly is to get in my car, pop in a Metallica CD and drive 80+ mph around a winding road. Requires full concentration and I can't stay mad while trying to stay alive.
19. I'm not a big fan of cake. I eat it because I feel bad if I don't (like at a birthday party or something), but I really don't like the stuff.
20. The first thing I ever looked up on the internet was William Cane and The Art of Kissing. It was at December's house.
21. I secretly collect snow globes. I say secretly because I'm scared the word will get out and in a well-meaning gesture, my mother-in-law will buy everyone she sees... and I will be stuck with a bunch of snow globes I don't like for the rest of my life, unwilling to get rid of them because they were a gift.
22. Someday, when I have time and money, I would like to volunteer as much as possible at ChildHelp (their shelters). It would probably tear me up inside, but I think it is important.
22b. I am seriously running out of things to write about myself that anyone would find remotely interesting.
23. I've been serenaded by two cover models. Ranks up there in the "Most Embarrassing" moments of my life. Trying to smile the whole while some cute guy is singing to you and 50 other people are watching. NEVER want it to happen again.
24. One of my favorite moments as a mom was when Judith McNaught told me that if her children didn't have children pretty soon she was going to steal my daughter. LOL
25. I am a dork. I swear my picture is in Wikipedia. Someday, I am going to organize a dork convention so that I can hear about how others are dorks and not feel like I own the show.
=)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Biopsy
(Originally written February 4, 2009)
I slept fairly well, except for Megan's cold and a 3am nose bleed. Hers not mine. Mike woke me up at 8:15 and we began the process of getting ready.
I am a huge needle-phobe, so in preparation for the procedure, I took another Ativan. I feel like I should put a disclaimer here that the past 3 days is more of this drug than I've taken in four months. I've always been too afraid of getting addicted to actually take any! Now, I can't stop-- but high-anxiety is why I have it, I suppose.
We made our way to the hospital, checked in, and then waited. The first thing that happened was that they told me Mike would have to wait in the waiting room. I think my stricken expression changed their mind very quickly, because they let him come back with me and stay to listen to what was going to happen. I can be brave, but I am more so when he is there, so the idea of him leaving me to face a series of needles by myself made me want to turn around and run. I didn't, and we were led into the dressing room.
I changed and walked into the room, asking if it would be possible to take photos of the room and biopsy thing-a-ma-jig for my journal. I think the question surprised the tech, but she agreed that I could take a picture of the tray since everything had to be sterile. She left the room to go and get a consent form I needed to sign and I took my pictures.
While she was gone, Mike and I talked. Funny conversations about how I was going to require a full five minute breast exam prior to each sexual interlude we had. He joked that if he wasn't careful, I'd probably have him purchasing his own ultrasound machine and administering sonograms. I told him that we should write Tom Cruise to see if he was done with his. We were laughing pretty hard when the nurse came back in.
The type of biopsy I was having is called a Core Biopsy. It is ultrasound guided and done with two needles. One, is larger needle that is pushed into the lump, then a second needle goes down the middle of the first and extracts long cylinders of cells to be tested. The string of cells shows how deep the cancer is, if there is any, and the condition of the tissue. The condition of the tissue is important in when cancer is present in order to tell whether it is new or progressed. If the cells are all normal, the tumor is benign, if cancer is present the cells will range from looking slightly abnormal to something akin to dead flesh. In the photo, the most forward object that looks like a candle lighter is the biopsy needle.
The technician had me lay on the bed while she got the ultrasound machine ready and did a few preliminary finds of the lump. She talked to me about how I'd already been told that it was probably just a fibro(somethingorother) lump and probably benign, but the only way to be 100% sure was to take a biopsy. Since I HADN'T been told that until the day prior, I was much more relieved to hear it again from her. She also talked about how some women voted to have them removed and some simply let them be. I told her that I'd obviously need to wait for the actual results, but that my gut feeling was to have it taken out. For one thing, if another lump did form, as big as this one is, I'd never feel it underneath. Plus, I'd be afraid of it changing from benign to malignant. So, there might still be a lumpectomy in my near future.
Ironically, I was more afraid of the first needle poke into my breast than I was of the procedure itself. I mean, there is always fear of the unknown, but I can't feel the unknown. I may know that there is a needle in me, but if I can't see it, or feel it, I'm able to ignore it. The first needle jab, to numb me, was my greatest fear-- and there was the small matter of the fact that the needle was going in MY BOOB!
Ow.
After the Radiologist arrived, they lay me on my side on the bed and did a series of ultrasound images to ascertain where the core samples, five in all, would be taken from. Then, they cleaned me up, draped me, and set about numbing me up. Luckily, they let Mike stay in the room, so I had that bit of moral support, but they made him sit down because they were worried he'd pass out when if he saw the biopsy needle (which is very long and thick like a meat thermometer) go into my breast.
Being numbed was the worst part of the procedure. He stuck the needle in and pushed in the lidocain into the most upper part of my breast. Once that area was numb, they went deeper with the numbing agent. While I couldn't feel the needle, the amount of pressure was incredibly uncomfortable. It hurt like someone was pressing HARD on my breast. Needless to say, once that was done, I was relieved.
With the ultrasound occurring at the same time, it is hard to tell the difference between the pressure of the machine and the needle going in, so all I felt was pressure most of the time. The Radiologist would tell me to not breathe and stay still and then he'd take the core sample. The suction needle makes a loud "FWAMPT" sound when it is extracting and although he sounded it for me prior to the procedure, there was no way to stop myself from jumping each time it went off. Luckily, by then, the sample had already been extracted.
Five "FWAMPTs" later, we were finished and I was bandaged, given and ice pack, and we went home.
The results won't be here until Friday or Monday, but the relief I feel at having spoken to my doctor, the words from the radiologist tech, and having finally gotten something proactive done, are seeping in. I was finally able to sleep and took a two hour nap.
My boob really hurts right now, though. I suppose that's too be expected after having someone drill holes into it =(
I slept fairly well, except for Megan's cold and a 3am nose bleed. Hers not mine. Mike woke me up at 8:15 and we began the process of getting ready.
I am a huge needle-phobe, so in preparation for the procedure, I took another Ativan. I feel like I should put a disclaimer here that the past 3 days is more of this drug than I've taken in four months. I've always been too afraid of getting addicted to actually take any! Now, I can't stop-- but high-anxiety is why I have it, I suppose.
We made our way to the hospital, checked in, and then waited. The first thing that happened was that they told me Mike would have to wait in the waiting room. I think my stricken expression changed their mind very quickly, because they let him come back with me and stay to listen to what was going to happen. I can be brave, but I am more so when he is there, so the idea of him leaving me to face a series of needles by myself made me want to turn around and run. I didn't, and we were led into the dressing room.
I changed and walked into the room, asking if it would be possible to take photos of the room and biopsy thing-a-ma-jig for my journal. I think the question surprised the tech, but she agreed that I could take a picture of the tray since everything had to be sterile. She left the room to go and get a consent form I needed to sign and I took my pictures.
While she was gone, Mike and I talked. Funny conversations about how I was going to require a full five minute breast exam prior to each sexual interlude we had. He joked that if he wasn't careful, I'd probably have him purchasing his own ultrasound machine and administering sonograms. I told him that we should write Tom Cruise to see if he was done with his. We were laughing pretty hard when the nurse came back in.
The type of biopsy I was having is called a Core Biopsy. It is ultrasound guided and done with two needles. One, is larger needle that is pushed into the lump, then a second needle goes down the middle of the first and extracts long cylinders of cells to be tested. The string of cells shows how deep the cancer is, if there is any, and the condition of the tissue. The condition of the tissue is important in when cancer is present in order to tell whether it is new or progressed. If the cells are all normal, the tumor is benign, if cancer is present the cells will range from looking slightly abnormal to something akin to dead flesh. In the photo, the most forward object that looks like a candle lighter is the biopsy needle.The technician had me lay on the bed while she got the ultrasound machine ready and did a few preliminary finds of the lump. She talked to me about how I'd already been told that it was probably just a fibro(somethingorother) lump and probably benign, but the only way to be 100% sure was to take a biopsy. Since I HADN'T been told that until the day prior, I was much more relieved to hear it again from her. She also talked about how some women voted to have them removed and some simply let them be. I told her that I'd obviously need to wait for the actual results, but that my gut feeling was to have it taken out. For one thing, if another lump did form, as big as this one is, I'd never feel it underneath. Plus, I'd be afraid of it changing from benign to malignant. So, there might still be a lumpectomy in my near future.
Ironically, I was more afraid of the first needle poke into my breast than I was of the procedure itself. I mean, there is always fear of the unknown, but I can't feel the unknown. I may know that there is a needle in me, but if I can't see it, or feel it, I'm able to ignore it. The first needle jab, to numb me, was my greatest fear-- and there was the small matter of the fact that the needle was going in MY BOOB!
Ow.
After the Radiologist arrived, they lay me on my side on the bed and did a series of ultrasound images to ascertain where the core samples, five in all, would be taken from. Then, they cleaned me up, draped me, and set about numbing me up. Luckily, they let Mike stay in the room, so I had that bit of moral support, but they made him sit down because they were worried he'd pass out when if he saw the biopsy needle (which is very long and thick like a meat thermometer) go into my breast.
Being numbed was the worst part of the procedure. He stuck the needle in and pushed in the lidocain into the most upper part of my breast. Once that area was numb, they went deeper with the numbing agent. While I couldn't feel the needle, the amount of pressure was incredibly uncomfortable. It hurt like someone was pressing HARD on my breast. Needless to say, once that was done, I was relieved.With the ultrasound occurring at the same time, it is hard to tell the difference between the pressure of the machine and the needle going in, so all I felt was pressure most of the time. The Radiologist would tell me to not breathe and stay still and then he'd take the core sample. The suction needle makes a loud "FWAMPT" sound when it is extracting and although he sounded it for me prior to the procedure, there was no way to stop myself from jumping each time it went off. Luckily, by then, the sample had already been extracted.
Five "FWAMPTs" later, we were finished and I was bandaged, given and ice pack, and we went home.
The results won't be here until Friday or Monday, but the relief I feel at having spoken to my doctor, the words from the radiologist tech, and having finally gotten something proactive done, are seeping in. I was finally able to sleep and took a two hour nap.
My boob really hurts right now, though. I suppose that's too be expected after having someone drill holes into it =(
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
A Talk With the Doctor
(Originally written 12:00am, February 4, 2009)
After Monday night, I had to call in sick for part of Tuesday. I was emotionally wrung out and still terrified. Although, when I woke up, I felt completely at peace, which was a nice feeling.
Plus, Megan was sick and I couldn't think well enough to figure out what to do about that.
At 9am, I was finally able to drag myself out of bed and start moving. The first thing I did was call my Doctor's office. Up until now, I hadn't been able to talk to her-- and I really needed too. I wanted her to give me something that would calm me down. I wanted hope.
Barely functioning, I somehow managed to oversee Meg getting dressed, find a place for her to go for the afternoon since school was out of the question, and get myself dressed. As I write this, I have no idea if we ate anything, though I have a vague recollection of a box of Mac n' Cheese crackers and Capt'n Crunch somewhere in the equation.
Then, at 1pm, my Doctor called. I don't remember much of the call, just that I was basically incoherent in my explanation of how well I wasn't coping; and, how badly I needed another explanation for why there was a huge lump in my breast.
She stated that it could be... a big word I can't remember... and that the mass wasn't connected to anything like muscle or nodes (a plus in that most invasive cancers are connected to something that carries the cancer cells to other parts of the body). She also said that it was movable, which is a good thing., and, that if it was cancer, we'd get through it.
She also made me promise that I would not get on the internet again. I bargained for my facebook page, and we had a deal.
Hope feels so good. The wait for results does not, and I won't have them until Friday.
I went into work, numb but needing to get things done. Grateful that friends were offering to pray for me. No longer hiding my terror. Happy that my boss understood. I got there at 1:30pm and worked until 8pm-- a little short on the hours, but productive none-the-less.
As I write this, it is 12am Wednesday morning and my biopsy is in 10 hours. I'm still scared, but it isn't the mind blowing terror of the night before. I'm not even sure I have the energy for that again. Surely, it would be more devastating than anything else could be since I was literally making myself sick.
I'm going to take another Ativan and go to sleep, and pray that this trial is soon to be over. Or, at the very least, it has direction and an end that ensures a future.
After Monday night, I had to call in sick for part of Tuesday. I was emotionally wrung out and still terrified. Although, when I woke up, I felt completely at peace, which was a nice feeling.
Plus, Megan was sick and I couldn't think well enough to figure out what to do about that.
At 9am, I was finally able to drag myself out of bed and start moving. The first thing I did was call my Doctor's office. Up until now, I hadn't been able to talk to her-- and I really needed too. I wanted her to give me something that would calm me down. I wanted hope.
Barely functioning, I somehow managed to oversee Meg getting dressed, find a place for her to go for the afternoon since school was out of the question, and get myself dressed. As I write this, I have no idea if we ate anything, though I have a vague recollection of a box of Mac n' Cheese crackers and Capt'n Crunch somewhere in the equation.
Then, at 1pm, my Doctor called. I don't remember much of the call, just that I was basically incoherent in my explanation of how well I wasn't coping; and, how badly I needed another explanation for why there was a huge lump in my breast.
She stated that it could be... a big word I can't remember... and that the mass wasn't connected to anything like muscle or nodes (a plus in that most invasive cancers are connected to something that carries the cancer cells to other parts of the body). She also said that it was movable, which is a good thing., and, that if it was cancer, we'd get through it.
She also made me promise that I would not get on the internet again. I bargained for my facebook page, and we had a deal.
Hope feels so good. The wait for results does not, and I won't have them until Friday.
I went into work, numb but needing to get things done. Grateful that friends were offering to pray for me. No longer hiding my terror. Happy that my boss understood. I got there at 1:30pm and worked until 8pm-- a little short on the hours, but productive none-the-less.
As I write this, it is 12am Wednesday morning and my biopsy is in 10 hours. I'm still scared, but it isn't the mind blowing terror of the night before. I'm not even sure I have the energy for that again. Surely, it would be more devastating than anything else could be since I was literally making myself sick.
I'm going to take another Ativan and go to sleep, and pray that this trial is soon to be over. Or, at the very least, it has direction and an end that ensures a future.
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