The check-up

My sister, Tracy, left yesterday after visiting for 4 days and helping me to get this house in order a bit. It was great to have her here to talk to and hang with. She worked really hard and did lots of meal preparation, making sure that I was eating well. It was hard to see her go but she got me through the toughest days of the recovery. Also, she kept the lonliness at bay.

I had a check-up with my oncologist today. It wasn't very eventful actually and I guess I should be happy for that.

I went in after sleeping until 9:00 AM. I actually felt like I got enough sleep but I was still tired. I got dressed in some yoga pants and a blouse that, although it made me look pregnant, didn't make me look like I had a drainage bulb hanging from my neck. I didn't have the energy to put on make-up or jewelry so I felt a bit unfinished but at least I didn't look like the disaster that I felt like.

Fortunately, I was called into the back relatively quickly, without being hounded by the financial folks. I guess my yelling at the financial assistant last time gave them the message that I wasn't too interested in talking to them about my outstanding balance.

Both Dr. Taetle and Mary Lynn, his assistant, came in and talked to me. They looked at the surgery site and discussed my hormone levels. According to the last blood test, I am post-menopausal but according to the previous tests, my hormone levels were off the charts. Go figure! If I am acually post-menopausal, they can start me on another drug instead of the tamoxifen. So I need to have another blood test to determine where I really am.

I was told to make an appt with Dr Croghan, my radiation oncologist. I will need to see her to determine how long I will have to have radiation and when I can start. I can't really plan anything or even look ahead until I know those things. I really feel like my life is on hold. And subsequently, so is Oscar's life since he is so tied up with everything that is going on with me.

I asked Dr. Taetle some questions about this recurrence and what it means for the future. Well, I hate to say it, but he didn't have any good news for me. It wasn't all doom and gloom but there is no up side to this latest tumor that I can see. So, we're back to "one day at a time" which I had just begun thinking I could up to one year at a time. No such luck!

Thanks again for all the love and concern that you are all showing. It is amazing how much it helps just to know that you all are out there, thinking of me and the boys. We feel the positive energy of your love and support. Keep it coming!

Surgery was a success

Yesterday I went in for a lumpectomy, also known as a partial mastectomy. I wasn't nervous or worried as I had been through a similar surgery already. In fact, I have been through so many surgeries in the past few years that I was beginning to feel like an old hand at it. When asked if I had any questions, I said, no, I've done it so many times that I know what to expect.

Fortunately, there were no glitches. I got into the operating room talking about hamburgers (that's what the anesthesia does to you) and came out of the anesthesia with a sore throat from the breathing tube. They sure don't give you much time for recovery. As my IV was being removed, the nurse kept telling me to keep my eyes open and not fall back asleep, I'm sure because they couldn't release me if I wasn't conscious.

So they hustled me out to the entrance where Oscar and my friend, Heidi, were waiting. It was so sweet of Heidi to come see me. She got all of 3 minutes to say hi and give me a hug and then we were off home.

I walked in the house, fell into bed and Oscar had to remove my sunglasses. I slept for a while and felt fine. We started off slowly on the food just because the nurses told us to but I was famished from fasting since midnight the night before. When Oscar wasn't looking, I went into the kitchen, ate about 20 tortilla chips, a huge bowl of yogurt with berries, and made myself another cup of tea. Luckily, I had no nausea and didn't throw up, because that would not have been pretty.

The boys came home and were glad to see me awake and able to take hugs. Oscar urged them not to touch my torso because not only do I have the wound all bandaged up, but I have a drain. I was hoping to avoid having a drain this time, but since there was a cavity left from my last surgery, Dr. Roeder said that it was necessary. Besides it's better to have a drain than to have to go back to the hospital to have the wound draind there.

So, now the boys desperately want mommy to play "Show & Tell" where I let them see the bandages and the drain. I said that they had to wait til later on today when I am feeling more up to it. They will love it, cuz it's pretty gross and little boys love that stuff.

In the mean time, I have watched four episodes of Michael Palin's "Around the World in 80 Days." I am also just devouring "100 Years of Solitude" and all the New Yorkers I can get my hands on. I am working on some short stories of my own and responding to my email. And when I get tired of doing all those things, I take a nap. So no need to worry about me, unless of course I run out of reading material.

Thanks for all the calls and good wishes. I am well cared for and I feel really loved. I miss all my friends and family who I don't get to see often but I am thinking of all of you. I will write more soon, but it may not be about cancer. Til then .....

A moving World War II account

Some years back, I heard about a book on NPR. NPR is a good source for interesting and intelligent literature and more that once I have gone in search of something recommended on one of the programs. This time it was called Address Unknown by a not-so-famous writer named Katherine Kressman Taylor. The story takes place prior to the start of WWII and it was about the correspondence between two men. It was somewhat reminiscent of 84 Charing Cross Road.

After hearing about the book, I immediately checked the library catalog but they didn't have a copy. I then went to Bookman's, the local used book store, but there wasn't a copy to be had. I looked in a few of the local bookstores but still no sign of Address Unknown. Finally I was forced to go online. Even so, it was tough to find the book. I finally came across it and soon it was in my hands. I was surprised to see that it was really just a tiny little book. Only about, 6 inches by 6 inches, and about 60 pages long, it was like a little gem that could be easily hidden among the multitude of other larger books that littered my night table.

I sat down to read the book and finished it in about two sittings. It was as enjoyable and surprising as I had expected. It was a touching and disturbing story told via a series of letters. I have heard that the story has been presented on the stage by actors reading the letters.I heard this from my friend, Suzanne Taylor.

It's a funny thing about Suzanne. I was driving her home from summer camp a week ago. We were talking about family and she was describing her husband's family. She told me that her mother-in-law had been a writer. Well, this sparked my interest because of my love of writing. She said that her mother-in-law had written one book that received some critical acclaim, but when she mentioned the title of the book, Address Unknown, I was absolutely stunned. It's one thing to find out that someone you know has written a book that you've heard of, but to find out that they wrote a book that you admire, that's a different story. I screamed "No Way!" while I was driving and I think I scared the wits out of Suzanne. She recovered quickly though and told me the story of how a few years back, the publishing company decided to do a brief re-release of the book. So they reprinted the book and began selling copies.

It wasn't until one of her kids noticed the book on a shelf at a bookstore that he said, hey wait a minute. He contacted his mom and asked her if she knew that her book had been reprinted. She didn't so they contacted the publisher. Apparently, the publisher couldn't imagine that the author would still be alive 60 years after the original publication of the book, so they just assumed that she had died. They made arrangements with her for royalties and the book was re-released. It was one of those re-released copies that I got.

Although I never met Katherine Taylor, I feel as though I had, knowing the personal stories that Suzanne shared with me about her life, about how she lived in Gettysburg, PA, how she worked and raised her kids, and about her husband. It seems so strange to know those things about a writer but in some ways, it seems natural to know them about the author of this book. It is a real treasure and one that I hope to reread many times.

After meeting the surgeon

I had an appointment with my surgeon yesterday. Her name is Dr. Vanessa Roeder. I liked her right away. She instilled confidence, had a sense of humor, and her hands weren't too cold. She did an ultrasound and it showed that, fortunately, the lump wasn't so close to the sternum that any bone would have to be removed. When bone removal is involved, it is more painful and involves more recovery time. I am really relieved that I won't have to deal with that.

The bad news is that it appears Dr. Roeder may have to perform a lumpectomy to remove the cancer and schedule the mastectomy for later. She needs to discuss my case with Dr. Croghan, my radiation oncologist, before she can determine what the actual treatment plan will be. If Dr. Croghan is in agreement with Dr. Roeder, it is possible that I will have the lumpectomy on Tuesday June 23rd and then have a series of radiation. After the radiation treatments, I would then have the bi-lateral mastectomy. The question as to whether reconstruction would be possible depends on how the radiation affects the skin and whether there is enough good skin to do reconstruction.

So at this point, it looks like I might have anywhere from 2 to 4 surgeries. They would include the lumpectomy, the mastectomy, the reconstruction and then the hysterectomy.

I suppose it's fortunate that I am not employed at this time. This is going to be a long, drawn out process. Of course, after the lumpectomy and the radiation, I can begin to work again. At this time, I am really tired and find that I am napping every day. Thank you everyone for all your good wishes. I truly appreciate them. I will try to write back but if you don't hear from me for a while, know that I am thinking of all of you and soaking up all your positive thoughts. It all really helps.

And those of you who are far away but want to do something, if you could just write me a note, that is the best help and support you can give. I get such a lift from all your notes and cards.

Check back soon for updates. Dr. Roeder said that she should know more about the surgery dates and follow-up by tomorrow. I hope that it's good news.

Not what I would expect to write about

When I started this blog, I was planning to write about traveling, my travels, stories of other people's trips and all the wonders of knowing the world personally. I never expected to be posting the news about my latest health crisis. Nonetheless, during my last encounter with the dreaded BC (breast cancer) I found the blog to be the easiest way to keep everyone updated and informed about my circumstances. It also eliminated the need for me to update everyone individually. So here I am again, blogging about my health.

For those of you who don't know, I have been diagnosed with recurrent breast cancer. It is early and isolated. It is not a new cancer, but a recurrence of the old cancer. This is good because it means that the cancer didn't travel through my system to pop up again. It is a small lump located on the left side of my breast near my sternum.

I have seen my oncologist, Dr. Raymond Taetle, and he says that I should have it removed as soon as possible but that I wouldn't need any chemotherapy. I will have a rigorous series of radiation treatments though. This is also good news because it means that it will be a much less traumatic experience for the boys in that I will not lose my hair and I will not spend three months barely able to get out of bed.

Under the circumstances, I have opted for the most aggressive approach to this cancer that I can think of and that includes a double mastectomy and a complete hysterectomy. This seems to be called for since the new lump appeared even though I am on hormone suppression therapy. So apparently my body is producing enough hormones to feed a new tumor regardless of what drugs I am taking.

I am currently unemployed so I will have time to go through the surgeries and treatment and take the time I need to recover fully. I am not worried about the cancer so much now as I am how I will handle all the changes my body will go through. I am also concerned about how the boys will handle the "new" me. But we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Well, I appreciate all your support. I am very fortunate because I am surrounded by good people and I now have a really good local support system that I didn't have before. I feel that I will be well taken care of. So don't worry, just hold positive thoughts.

The miracles of Chimayó

(This article was created for inclusion on the website www.cancerjourneys.com)

Let me start off by stating that I am not a Catholic but I was raised in the Catholic church and I love their traditions. I find some of the rituals very reassuring and calming. Therefore, when I read about Chimayó, a shrine in New Mexico, I wanted to visit. It wasn’t until after I had been diagnosed with breast cancer, however, that I knew that I had to visit. Many people lose their faith in God when battling cancer. Others cling on to everything a faith in God offers at a time of misfortune. I was somewhat in the middle but I figured a bit of help from God couldn’t hurt.

The story of the shrine states that one day, around 1810, a Chimayó friar noticed a light bursting from a hillside. He dug into the hillside and he found a crucifix, which was called the miraculous crucifix of Our Lord of Esquipulas.

A local priest took the crucifix to Santa Cruz, about 5 miles away, but each time, it disappeared and was later found in its hole back in Chimayó. The third time it happened, everyone understood that the crucifix would remain in Chimayó. That is when the people built a small chapel on the site.

The curative powers, however, do not seem to come from the crucifix itself but rather from El Posito, the "sacred sand pit" from which the crucifix was dug up. Hundreds of people visit the shrine on holy days and pilgrims walk great distances just to collect some of the soil with the miraculous healing powers.

We arrived in Chimayó among a crowd of tourists, some believers, some just curious. It was a warm day and the sun glistened off the stones of the plaza in front of the chapel. It was a simple adobe structure with the rustic beauty of northern New Mexico. We walked into the chapel which was full of people praying. It was so small that we could not sit. Instead we walked to the front of the chapel to gaze at the crucifix that still adorns the chapel altar.

From the altar, there is a small doorway to the left, which takes you to the small cubicle-like room that contains El Posito. People were crowded around the hole, looking in, not sure what to make of it. I got down on my knees and said a little prayer. I spread the soil all over my chest and then turned to my boys. I took each one by the hand and first put a handful of soil over the 4-year old’s head and then did the same to his little brother. They were very grave and quiet, not sure what I was up to. Afterwards, we sat for a minute and watched other people enter the room. It was crowded and I knew that we should leave to make room for others, but I felt a need to wait a moment longer.

Then a family entered and looked into the pit. It was a couple and their two pre-teen children. They obviously all were mystified about the pit and what it signified. I told the man about the reputed healing powers of the soil in the pit and that he should rub the soil on the body part that was causing problems. He looked at me with such earnestness and pain as if he were frightened. At first he reached into the pit but then he just jumped in. His bulk took up the entire space. Then he took up a great handful of the dirt and rubbed it all over his wife’s left leg. She didn’t appear convinced but he continued rubbing her leg. The man then turned and put soil on each of his kids and then again on his wife, tears coursing from his eyes. I had to leave because tears were pricking at the corners of my eyes too.

From the tiny closet where El Posito resides, you exit the shrine through a room lined with benches. The walls of this small ante-room are covered with the crutches of those who regained their ability to walk after visiting the shrine. There are hundreds of photos, drawings, and missives from those who were healed of a variety of ailments. Their stories were as unique as snowflakes but the stories of the children were the ones that touched me the most. It was really quite moving to see what people’s faith had achieved.

We left the shrine and walked down the hill to the altars that have been adorned with rosaries, photos, notes and pleas for divine intercession. My sons and I had purchased two plastic rosaries in the gift shop and we hung them on a shrine. When our rosaries had found their place among the dozens of other plastic rosaries of all colors, we stood back and looked at the amazing mass of objects on the altar. Aside from the rosaries, there were candles, ribbons, photos, messages on napkins, messages on rocks, handkerchiefs and other paraphernalia that shrouded the altar, from top to bottom. The altar was such a mass of color and texture that it assaulted the eyes and yet filled one with such awe and wonder, that such a desire to believe still existed.

We walked away from the altars to an adjacent field where there were several stone arches. I could not tell if the arches were old but they gave a feeling of peace and solitude. We walked over and touched the stone and breathed in the fresh air. It was good to be in this place, relishing the feeling of serenity and the closeness to the divine.

We were done with our visit. It was with regret that we climbed back up the hill and walked away from the shrine. Yet, the visit would never end in my mind. It gave me a sense of hope, however remote, that my life would continue and my connection to God would strengthen.

The wild waves of Water Key: A trip off the coast of Utila, Honduras

(In case you didn't catch this one on examiner.com, here is a rerun)


While visiting the island of Utila, one of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras, my son, a friend, and I chartered a 10 foot “lancha” out to see one of the cays. The cays are the epitome of the deserted tropical island.

We visited Water Cay, a privately owned, undeveloped, three-acre cay that is a half-hour boat ride from Utila. The ride over was choppy but exhilarating and provided glimpses of a mellow sea turtle, a mansion built on a miniscule cay, and the topsy-turvy development on Pigeon and Jewel Cays. When we arrived, we arranged with our captain to meet him for the return trip at 1 o’clock in order to avoid the rough seas.

For about two dollars per person, payable upon arrival, you can spend the day lounging in the powder-white sand, floating in the shallow water, or walking over to Morgan’s Cay. We made sure to bring food and water with us, because when they say that the island is undeveloped, they mean that there is nothing, not a shack or a dock or a boat ramp. There were several trash cans, however, and a handsome young man raking up palm fronds and coconuts.

At 1 o’clock promptly, our captain was waiting for us and we hopped in the boat for our return trip. The captain suggested we move to the back of the boat and it didn’t take long to find out why. In the three hours that we had been on the island, the swells had grown and the chop had picked up. At one point, I swear the swells were over five feet, at least it seemed like they were. The bow of the boat would rise like a needle piercing the blue sky and then moments later plunge downward, leaving you with nothing but a view of the aqua-marine underworld. We screamed, gasped, laughed, and hid our eyes. It was then that I realized that I was possibly the only one in the boat that could swim. I clutched my son to me as he reached farther and farther out of the boat to touch the water. By the time we returned safely to Utila, I was soaked, hoarse, and exhausted from one of the most memorable days I had ever experienced.