One of our most awesome political humorists died today from breast cancer. She was battling her third round with the disease. She was 62.
I first heard of Molly Ivins when I saw her speak and met her in 1993 at Ball State. She was a firecracker. I didn't know a thing about the Texas legislature, but she had me rolling in the aisles at their antics. Even though I was a broke-ass grad student, I bought her book, shook her hand, got her autograph and have been her #1 fan since.
She was a big inspiration to me to say what you mean and mean what you say and that the most fun in life is had when you are mocking the most serious people and situations. In the same way that men ages 18-40 get most of their political news from the Daily Show, I got most of my early education in politics from reading Molly Ivins. Explains a lot, doesn't it?
Recently, I saw a clip of her in a documentary project about inane sex laws on the books. She spoke about the time the Texas legislature has devoted to sex laws. It was hysterical. It isn't suitable for all audiences, so you'll just have to Google for it.
In 2002, she wrote, "Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that."
She was a graduate of a women's college, loved to call George W. Bush "Shrub," and had inflammatory breast cancer. She was talented and funny; smart and savvy. Her last column was about standing up against escalating the war in Iraq.
I miss her already.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
I complain too much.
I know I do. There is no need to tell me.
My titanium-hard boob is not giving me too many problems. The doctor did a half-fill, so she used only 75cc of saline rather than the 150cc I've been getting. I'm not sure what a cc is, but I don't actually think 150 is all that much.
I just Googled it. Thank goodness for the Internet. Apparently, a cc is a cubic centimeter. Sound right? And 150 cc is equal to 5.0721 fluid ounces. A can of cola is 12 ounces. So, just under half a can of Coke.
So, if my math and conversion skills are holding up, 75cc is just over 1/4 cup (a cup being 8 fluid ounces).
Krikey. You wouldn't think 1/4 cup of salt water could cause as much trouble as it has! But, without a doubt, 1/4 cup is much better than the just over 1/2 cup fill I had last time. My back is a bit achy, but nothing like in December. I'm doing ok with frequent stretching and range of motion exercises - no need for drugs, heating pads, etc., although I did have to do several hot showers in the days after the fill last week. It's already loosening up.
I don't see her again until March 20. Just hearing the date when English Emily suggested it practically made me pee my pants. I knew exactly what I was doing on March 20 last year. Let's see ... I was diagnosed on March 17, a Friday. Spent the day telling family the news. Spent the weekend telling friends the news and reading what I could. On Monday, which would have been March 20, I was sitting in an oncologists office trying not to have a panic attack (and not really succeeding), while my husband kicked a receptionist's booty until we got the appointment we had been promised.
There are several upcoming February and March dates that are generating panic in me. Feb. 18 - the day I first felt a pain that ultimately got me into the doctor's office. March 10 - my doctor's appointment, where she said it was enough of a concern that we should do a mammogram. March 15 - the mammogram, the surprise biopsy, the knowledge when I saw the tech's eyes that I had cancer, even though none of them - not even the doctor - were allowed to say it. March 16 - the wait. The 5 p.m. phone call telling me, not asking me, to be at the doctor's office at 9 a.m. March 17 - the news.
I just told you all of those dates from memory. I have had to repeat many of them 15 times or more this last year on form after form, in one doctor's office after another.
I have a pain that comes and goes in my "good" breast. It's been there since the last part of chemo. So, I've seen lots of doctors and nurses since then and mentioned it to every one. I've made them all examine it. They can't feel anything. I've even had a breast MRI since the pain started. Nothing. Doesn't matter. Every time I get that twinge, I think, "Feb. 18." I've tried to think "benign cyst." I've tried to think "get off the caffeine." I've tried to think "most lumps aren't cancer." But my mean old brain keeps saying, "Feb. 18."
My friends in the "know" call these dates "cancerversaries." They suck. The first few years of a cancerversary are known to cause anxiety, depression and panic attacks not only in the patient, but in the caregivers, too. Anyone who shared in the trauma of the time period is susceptible to the problems. It's similar to the important dates related to losing a loved one - his/her birthday, your birthday, your wedding anniversary, the date of his/her death. Death dates remind you of how much you miss someone you love. Cancerversaries remind you of the hell you have been through and that you will never really shake the threat of it returning.
This year, I'm going to New York City with a friend of mine. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do there. I'm hitching a ride with Elaine and her students to a journalism conference. I've never been to New York and I want to go. I don't care if I sit in the hotel room and just look at the view from there the whole weekend. I just want to get as far away from cancerland as I can.
My titanium-hard boob is not giving me too many problems. The doctor did a half-fill, so she used only 75cc of saline rather than the 150cc I've been getting. I'm not sure what a cc is, but I don't actually think 150 is all that much.
I just Googled it. Thank goodness for the Internet. Apparently, a cc is a cubic centimeter. Sound right? And 150 cc is equal to 5.0721 fluid ounces. A can of cola is 12 ounces. So, just under half a can of Coke.
So, if my math and conversion skills are holding up, 75cc is just over 1/4 cup (a cup being 8 fluid ounces).
Krikey. You wouldn't think 1/4 cup of salt water could cause as much trouble as it has! But, without a doubt, 1/4 cup is much better than the just over 1/2 cup fill I had last time. My back is a bit achy, but nothing like in December. I'm doing ok with frequent stretching and range of motion exercises - no need for drugs, heating pads, etc., although I did have to do several hot showers in the days after the fill last week. It's already loosening up.
I don't see her again until March 20. Just hearing the date when English Emily suggested it practically made me pee my pants. I knew exactly what I was doing on March 20 last year. Let's see ... I was diagnosed on March 17, a Friday. Spent the day telling family the news. Spent the weekend telling friends the news and reading what I could. On Monday, which would have been March 20, I was sitting in an oncologists office trying not to have a panic attack (and not really succeeding), while my husband kicked a receptionist's booty until we got the appointment we had been promised.
There are several upcoming February and March dates that are generating panic in me. Feb. 18 - the day I first felt a pain that ultimately got me into the doctor's office. March 10 - my doctor's appointment, where she said it was enough of a concern that we should do a mammogram. March 15 - the mammogram, the surprise biopsy, the knowledge when I saw the tech's eyes that I had cancer, even though none of them - not even the doctor - were allowed to say it. March 16 - the wait. The 5 p.m. phone call telling me, not asking me, to be at the doctor's office at 9 a.m. March 17 - the news.
I just told you all of those dates from memory. I have had to repeat many of them 15 times or more this last year on form after form, in one doctor's office after another.
I have a pain that comes and goes in my "good" breast. It's been there since the last part of chemo. So, I've seen lots of doctors and nurses since then and mentioned it to every one. I've made them all examine it. They can't feel anything. I've even had a breast MRI since the pain started. Nothing. Doesn't matter. Every time I get that twinge, I think, "Feb. 18." I've tried to think "benign cyst." I've tried to think "get off the caffeine." I've tried to think "most lumps aren't cancer." But my mean old brain keeps saying, "Feb. 18."
My friends in the "know" call these dates "cancerversaries." They suck. The first few years of a cancerversary are known to cause anxiety, depression and panic attacks not only in the patient, but in the caregivers, too. Anyone who shared in the trauma of the time period is susceptible to the problems. It's similar to the important dates related to losing a loved one - his/her birthday, your birthday, your wedding anniversary, the date of his/her death. Death dates remind you of how much you miss someone you love. Cancerversaries remind you of the hell you have been through and that you will never really shake the threat of it returning.
This year, I'm going to New York City with a friend of mine. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do there. I'm hitching a ride with Elaine and her students to a journalism conference. I've never been to New York and I want to go. I don't care if I sit in the hotel room and just look at the view from there the whole weekend. I just want to get as far away from cancerland as I can.
Monday, January 22, 2007
PS visit, take two
Well, last week, I drove to Carmel for a non-existent plastic surgeon's appointment.
To be fair to myself, the appointment existed at one time. It most definitely existed on a little card that I carried around in my purse - a little card that had been handed to me by the lovely British receptionist in my plastic surgeon's office. However, at some point in the last month, English Emily called my house and rescheduled said appointment. She did not, mind you, drive to my house and hand me a new little card to carry around in my purse with the new date and time on it. If she had, I might not have wasted my time driving 45 minutes from my house to see a plastic surgeon who was on a trip to Cancun (I'm sure).
Obviously, last week's blunder was Emily's fault. Try not to blame her. She barely speaks our language.
So, the real appointment is tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it. Now, I have double-anxiety because I already got my anxiety level up last week for an appointment that didn't happen. I have successfully maintained this anxiety level for the last several days, but am increasing it gradually as the countdown to tomorrow continues.
It should be a good appointment. I predict that I will burst into tears as soon as I see the bag of saline they intend to put into my poor, sore, fake boobie.
I can not imagine the sleepless nights ahead with the extra salt water pumped into that silicone bag under my skin. This sucker is already rock hard. What comes after that? Granite hard? Diamond hard? Titanium hard?
I have no need for a titanium hard breast.
Speaking of plastic surgeons, if I hear the local commercial on the radio one more time promoting breast enlargements for women, I'm going to drive to Dr. V.N.'s office (not my plastic surgeon) and share my thoughts on this subject. Those thoughts might start with something like, "Stop trying to make women feel bad about themselves" and end with storming out screaming something eloquent like, "I HATE YOU!"
To be fair to myself, the appointment existed at one time. It most definitely existed on a little card that I carried around in my purse - a little card that had been handed to me by the lovely British receptionist in my plastic surgeon's office. However, at some point in the last month, English Emily called my house and rescheduled said appointment. She did not, mind you, drive to my house and hand me a new little card to carry around in my purse with the new date and time on it. If she had, I might not have wasted my time driving 45 minutes from my house to see a plastic surgeon who was on a trip to Cancun (I'm sure).
Obviously, last week's blunder was Emily's fault. Try not to blame her. She barely speaks our language.
So, the real appointment is tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it. Now, I have double-anxiety because I already got my anxiety level up last week for an appointment that didn't happen. I have successfully maintained this anxiety level for the last several days, but am increasing it gradually as the countdown to tomorrow continues.
It should be a good appointment. I predict that I will burst into tears as soon as I see the bag of saline they intend to put into my poor, sore, fake boobie.
I can not imagine the sleepless nights ahead with the extra salt water pumped into that silicone bag under my skin. This sucker is already rock hard. What comes after that? Granite hard? Diamond hard? Titanium hard?
I have no need for a titanium hard breast.
Speaking of plastic surgeons, if I hear the local commercial on the radio one more time promoting breast enlargements for women, I'm going to drive to Dr. V.N.'s office (not my plastic surgeon) and share my thoughts on this subject. Those thoughts might start with something like, "Stop trying to make women feel bad about themselves" and end with storming out screaming something eloquent like, "I HATE YOU!"
Sunday, January 21, 2007
GO COLTS!
THE COLTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL.
So are the BEARS!
This is an amazing day in Midwest history.
So are the BEARS!
This is an amazing day in Midwest history.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
CNN special cancer stories
Hey, all ...
Troy passed along yesterday that CNN.com is running a set of stories basically about Lance Armstrong's march on Washington, featuring many survivor stories. There are several young women breast cancer survivors among the stories. It's pretty cool, very extensive.
The related programming is scheduled to run on CNN at 8 and 11 p.m. ET today (Saturday) and the same times tomorrow.
Some of the links ...
Armstrong: Patience running thin
Saving your life (a link to the whole set of stories)
GO LANCE! Have I mentioned 1,000 times that he was treated at IU Cancer Center? There is at least one other famous person treated there - ME!
Also, in a coincidence, I just updated my links to young survivor blogs and web sites today. So, let me direct your attention to those links on the right side of your screen, under the heading "Young Women with Breast Cancer."
Troy passed along yesterday that CNN.com is running a set of stories basically about Lance Armstrong's march on Washington, featuring many survivor stories. There are several young women breast cancer survivors among the stories. It's pretty cool, very extensive.
The related programming is scheduled to run on CNN at 8 and 11 p.m. ET today (Saturday) and the same times tomorrow.
Some of the links ...
Armstrong: Patience running thin
Saving your life (a link to the whole set of stories)
GO LANCE! Have I mentioned 1,000 times that he was treated at IU Cancer Center? There is at least one other famous person treated there - ME!
Also, in a coincidence, I just updated my links to young survivor blogs and web sites today. So, let me direct your attention to those links on the right side of your screen, under the heading "Young Women with Breast Cancer."
Friday, January 12, 2007
Not a lone wolf
Seems I'm not the only breast cancer blogger who wonders if breast cancer rates are truly going down. This is an interesting post from Lillie Shockney on Yahoo.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
My life is more fun than a cardboard box
I'm working hard trying to deal with my medication issues. This week has been better, mainly because I stopped taking everything new except the Tamoxifen (the cancer drug). I have been functional in the daytime - better able to concentrate and stay awake. No more dozing off at my desk!
However, I'm still not sleeping well at night.
I saw my medications person today. Strangely, I do not know what her job really is! I'm not even sure whether she is a doctor or what. I'm guessing she isn't a doctor because she introduced herself as "Jo." Isn't that odd? I take medicine from some strange woman I barely know! She has an office at IU, so I assume she is legitimate.
Anyway, Jo told me it was fine that I stopped taking the Lexapro, extra dose of Neurontin and Ambien. She gave me a prescription for some other anti-depressant to help counter the effects of the Tamoxifen. I'm scared to take it. I don't need to go down another side effects road, but the side effects of the Tamoxifen suck! The continued sleep problems at night are probably due, in part, to the Tamoxifen. I can't do this for five years!
I'm really bummed that I have such a hard time taking medication. I wish I could be one of the people I know who never seem to have a problem with anything. I really believe this probably has something to do with metabolism.
I've been researching to see if I have alternatives to the Tamoxifen. I do, but they are not good. First, I can choose not to take it. As I've mentioned before, the Tamoxifen has more cancer protection benefit to me than the chemotherapy did! Seems strange to put myself through the chemo, but then not take a simple little pill! Second, I can have my ovaries removed. This will then make me considered "postmenopausal," which will open a new line of drugs for me. However, this will also make me postmenopausal for 25 extra years, making my risk of osteoporosis skyrocket. (In addition, some of the drugs available to me as a "postmenopausal" patient increase bone loss, so a double whammy.) If you think this concern seems farfetched, I should tell you that I know many, many cancer survivors in their 30s dealing with osteopenia (thinning bone) or osteoporosis (brittle bones).
Removing my ovaries probably sounds really extreme. However, it's actually fairly common in women my age with highly estrogen-receptor-postive cancer as I have. It's an added measure of protection - remove the main source of estrogen from the body and improve your odds of not having a recurrence, or so the theory goes. Other people receive shots to suppress ovarian function.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Mainly, I'm just trying to get some decent sleep! I want my energy back!
However, I'm still not sleeping well at night.
I saw my medications person today. Strangely, I do not know what her job really is! I'm not even sure whether she is a doctor or what. I'm guessing she isn't a doctor because she introduced herself as "Jo." Isn't that odd? I take medicine from some strange woman I barely know! She has an office at IU, so I assume she is legitimate.
Anyway, Jo told me it was fine that I stopped taking the Lexapro, extra dose of Neurontin and Ambien. She gave me a prescription for some other anti-depressant to help counter the effects of the Tamoxifen. I'm scared to take it. I don't need to go down another side effects road, but the side effects of the Tamoxifen suck! The continued sleep problems at night are probably due, in part, to the Tamoxifen. I can't do this for five years!
I'm really bummed that I have such a hard time taking medication. I wish I could be one of the people I know who never seem to have a problem with anything. I really believe this probably has something to do with metabolism.
I've been researching to see if I have alternatives to the Tamoxifen. I do, but they are not good. First, I can choose not to take it. As I've mentioned before, the Tamoxifen has more cancer protection benefit to me than the chemotherapy did! Seems strange to put myself through the chemo, but then not take a simple little pill! Second, I can have my ovaries removed. This will then make me considered "postmenopausal," which will open a new line of drugs for me. However, this will also make me postmenopausal for 25 extra years, making my risk of osteoporosis skyrocket. (In addition, some of the drugs available to me as a "postmenopausal" patient increase bone loss, so a double whammy.) If you think this concern seems farfetched, I should tell you that I know many, many cancer survivors in their 30s dealing with osteopenia (thinning bone) or osteoporosis (brittle bones).
Removing my ovaries probably sounds really extreme. However, it's actually fairly common in women my age with highly estrogen-receptor-postive cancer as I have. It's an added measure of protection - remove the main source of estrogen from the body and improve your odds of not having a recurrence, or so the theory goes. Other people receive shots to suppress ovarian function.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Mainly, I'm just trying to get some decent sleep! I want my energy back!
Friday, January 05, 2007
Colleen in the Indy Star newspaper
This is Troy. I just found out that Colleen was pictured in the Indianapolis Star at Christmas time! I was shocked that it took this long to find out. Here is the link to see it online...
http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061223/LOCAL05/612230351/1134/LOCAL0504
In the picture, you can see prominently displayed the fancy Christmas dress that Rosie made (by hand) for Colleen. Colleen really likes fancy dresses, especially ones made by her mommy! And Rosie really likes making dresses for Colleen... so it's just a love fest around here.
Happy New Year!
http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061223/LOCAL05/612230351/1134/LOCAL0504
In the picture, you can see prominently displayed the fancy Christmas dress that Rosie made (by hand) for Colleen. Colleen really likes fancy dresses, especially ones made by her mommy! And Rosie really likes making dresses for Colleen... so it's just a love fest around here.
Happy New Year!
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