I have already received four angry calls about my Facebook post last night and today. As it turns out Hockey is not allowed five weeks out of surgery. Of course I blame my doctors for the oversight. I specifically looked at my restrictions....no lifting, no driving, no pushing a grocery cart, and the list goes on. But, "No Hockey" is mentioned anywhere. Either way, most restrictions are lifted at 5 weeks.
I brought my son to the outdoor ice skating park and in the warming house he asked if I wanted to skate with him. I just happened to have my ice skates in the back of the car and as a hockey mom, there are always sticks and pucks back there as well. So off we went and it was glorious.
Let me just say I can skate. Where I am from, everyone can skate. I grew up in those cute little skating outfits and my dad even flooded our backyard and made a rink every year.
My son and I were skating on the area that has no walls, just a mound of snow surrounding the ice. We were passing the puck back and forth and I missed it. I went to grab it out of the snow and got too close. I tripped on the snow and went down face first. I was unable to get my hand in front of me to soften the blow and landed on my chest...hard. It knocked the wind out of me. If I am to be completely honest I would tell you that I saw Mr. Eckhoff pull up and I was trying to show off a bit. I was looking his way and wasn't watching how close I was to the side. (Does that possibly make it HIS fault?)
So, we loaded me up in the car and I refused to let my fall ruin a perfect night of family fun. We headed to Zorbaz for pizza, which is conveniently located less than a block from the park. After all, doesn't a Zorbaz margarita typically make all things better?
I called my doctor this morning and I am sternly told I need to go in for scans on my chest. I am told I should have went into the ER last night. I'm just a little annoyed by this all. And I am reminded by my wonderful sister Kim and and again by my equally wonderful friend Lisa that I am a dumb ass. My mother didn't come right out and call me names, but lovingly (and loudly) called me by my full given name....LAJEANNA RAE! I may have once again proven that I am possibly the worst patient ever.
However, in between these loving and encouraging calls I will be once again checking my discharge papers. Because I am positively sure there was absolutely no mention of hockey restrictions. I am sticking with the fact that had I been told that hockey was a big No No, I would certainly not be in this predicament! I mean that graceful swan dive couldn't have possibly been MY fault!!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
DID I MENTION...I'M A BAD PATIENT?
Did I mention I'm not a very good patient? Poor Mr. Eckhoff. I almost sent him over the edge once again. First, let me plead my case before you judge.
I find that worse than the actual surgery is the drains that are put in. This was the third time and for some reason when I woke up from surgery I was shocked to see them again. Correct that, I was pissed to see them again.
Now, comes the sympathy part of my case... Anyone who has ever had drains will fully sympathize with me immediately. For the rest of you, I feel I must give this graphic account to garner as much sympathy as I possibly can so you can understand why I did what I did to my husband.
The 2 feet of tubing you can see outside of my body is sewn into my skin with stitches about six inches below my armpits on each side. At the end of the tubes are round suction parts that must be drained and the fluid amounts documented. They are torture and I struggle to find the right words to properly convey that. Basically every time you move the tubing tugs on the stitches. It's not a blood curdling pain (unless you accidentally pull on the tubing when adjusting your compression garment or you drop a drain when hooking it to your clothing). No, it's just a constant, annoying pain tugging on each side of you. And I also have to plead lack of sleep due to the fact every time I would move it would wake me.
I monitored the fluid like a hawk because after two 24 hour periods of less than 30 ml outake on each side you can have the drains removed. I reached this milestone on a Wednesday night, two nights prior to my follow up appointment at Mayo, where they were to remove my drains. Two more nights and 5 hours of riding in a car with drains was just not going to happen when medically it was ok for them to be removed.
So, I tricked Mr. Eckhoff. I had him help me tie my drains up to a gauze around my neck so I could shower. I grabbed a packet of antiseptic soap and told him I needed the medical scissors to open the packet. In the shower, away from Mr. Eckhoff's watchful eye, I proceeded to wash then cut out the stitches holding the tubes in place. I was able to get all the stitches out of my left side and started pulling on the drain. I pulled and pulled and it wouldn't budge. I almost passed out. Chris wrapped me in my robe and laid me on the bed, where I had to come clean.
"Cheese and Rice LJ!" Was what he yelled, or at least kind of what it sounded like he yelled. I told him he needed to help me because the drains were coming out, with or without his help. As he went into the next room to call someone for help I realized the reason the drain wouldn't come out was because I hadn't opened the drain releasing the suction to pull out the fluid. Once I did that I was able to pull the left drain out. And yes, it hurt and I was spent.
He came back in the bedroom and told me we were definitely waiting till morning so we could go to a doctor. Too late, as I showed him the one drain out. Many profanities were spewn from my husbands mouth, in which sent me into tears, in which Mr. Eckhoff can't handle. So, he reluctantly agreed to help me. He was able to cut the stitches I missed and pull the right drain out. He was pale and told me he needed a good, stiff drink. I guess seeing another two feet of tubing coming out of your wife is a bit tough on a man.
So, before you start sending me your scolding posts let me just say that I slept so good that night. Plus, I had drains two or three times before and knew that the doctor just pulled them out, just like we did. Saved us money I say. Still not good enough?? Then let me assure you that Mr. Eckhoff did in fact tattle on me to my surgeon.
I find that worse than the actual surgery is the drains that are put in. This was the third time and for some reason when I woke up from surgery I was shocked to see them again. Correct that, I was pissed to see them again.
Now, comes the sympathy part of my case... Anyone who has ever had drains will fully sympathize with me immediately. For the rest of you, I feel I must give this graphic account to garner as much sympathy as I possibly can so you can understand why I did what I did to my husband.
The 2 feet of tubing you can see outside of my body is sewn into my skin with stitches about six inches below my armpits on each side. At the end of the tubes are round suction parts that must be drained and the fluid amounts documented. They are torture and I struggle to find the right words to properly convey that. Basically every time you move the tubing tugs on the stitches. It's not a blood curdling pain (unless you accidentally pull on the tubing when adjusting your compression garment or you drop a drain when hooking it to your clothing). No, it's just a constant, annoying pain tugging on each side of you. And I also have to plead lack of sleep due to the fact every time I would move it would wake me.
I monitored the fluid like a hawk because after two 24 hour periods of less than 30 ml outake on each side you can have the drains removed. I reached this milestone on a Wednesday night, two nights prior to my follow up appointment at Mayo, where they were to remove my drains. Two more nights and 5 hours of riding in a car with drains was just not going to happen when medically it was ok for them to be removed.
So, I tricked Mr. Eckhoff. I had him help me tie my drains up to a gauze around my neck so I could shower. I grabbed a packet of antiseptic soap and told him I needed the medical scissors to open the packet. In the shower, away from Mr. Eckhoff's watchful eye, I proceeded to wash then cut out the stitches holding the tubes in place. I was able to get all the stitches out of my left side and started pulling on the drain. I pulled and pulled and it wouldn't budge. I almost passed out. Chris wrapped me in my robe and laid me on the bed, where I had to come clean.
"Cheese and Rice LJ!" Was what he yelled, or at least kind of what it sounded like he yelled. I told him he needed to help me because the drains were coming out, with or without his help. As he went into the next room to call someone for help I realized the reason the drain wouldn't come out was because I hadn't opened the drain releasing the suction to pull out the fluid. Once I did that I was able to pull the left drain out. And yes, it hurt and I was spent.
He came back in the bedroom and told me we were definitely waiting till morning so we could go to a doctor. Too late, as I showed him the one drain out. Many profanities were spewn from my husbands mouth, in which sent me into tears, in which Mr. Eckhoff can't handle. So, he reluctantly agreed to help me. He was able to cut the stitches I missed and pull the right drain out. He was pale and told me he needed a good, stiff drink. I guess seeing another two feet of tubing coming out of your wife is a bit tough on a man.
So, before you start sending me your scolding posts let me just say that I slept so good that night. Plus, I had drains two or three times before and knew that the doctor just pulled them out, just like we did. Saved us money I say. Still not good enough?? Then let me assure you that Mr. Eckhoff did in fact tattle on me to my surgeon.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
170 MPH AND BIONIC HEARING
When I am discharged from the hospital I am on 8-10 different meds and to say that I am not exactly myself is an understatement. There are side affects that I am not aware of, like the fact that I will ask my husband the same question at least 15-20 times within any given hour. Bless his heart, he just continues to have the same conversation with me over and over.
But what I am VERY aware of is my Bionic Hearing capabilities. I can hear conversations between others across a room. Sleep is restless because the slightest sound will awaken me. You would think this super human trait would be welcome, but it is not. It can't be shut off and it can create an overwhelming buzz in my brain.
But the hardest side affect, not for me but for my husband, is that when I am in a vehicle it feels like we are going 170 mph and out of control. As you can imagine, this makes for an interesting 5 hour ride home. Now keep in mind I ask questions over and over....so "Chris, just how fast are you going?!?" or "Slow Down!!!" is a constant in my husbands ear.
He swears that we are only going 70 mph, but I know better. I just know he must be lying because it feels like 170 mph! So, I need to see the speedometer for proof, which drives him crazy because this isn't exactly and easy thing for me to do. I have multiple pillows surrounding me to help with comfort and I am in a compression bra and a compression piece around my mid section. I would liken it having 100 Spanks on at once. It is nearly impossible to sit up or to bend and it is excruciatingly painful to do so. But I MUST see the speedometer because there is no way in hell he is only going 70!
When he changes lanes it feels like the car is going to go flying off the road and I scream at him to slow down again for the 100th time. I try to contain it but I am constantly jumping and grabbing at the handle of the door. The last straw for Mr. Eckhoff was when I grabbed his seat belt and screamed as he passed a semi.
His nerves frayed beyond humanly possible he turns off the interstate. He thinks it will do us both good to get out of the car for a bit and get something to eat. We sit in the back of Charlie's Cafe, which was fairly busy. BUT then my super sonic, bionic hearing kicked in. I couldn't take it, it was too much noise at once. I could hear every single person in that cafe talking and it was system overload. I started crying and left before Chris could finish eating. I laid down in the back of the car.
Chris' brilliant idea was for me just to stay in the backseat for the remainder of the drive. BIG MISTAKE! Now, instead of 170 mph, we were going faster than the speed of sound and I was in hysterics. We had to pull over and put me in the front seat. (I can't be sure but I thought I saw a tear in his eye as he buckled me in and I can only guess it wasn't for me.)
So thus once again, what I can only imagine is sheer torture for my husband, I begin again screaming, jumping, asking how fast we are going, trying to get a look at the speedometer and then passing out from the pain. Only to be awakened because we are going to fly off the road and I scream, jump, ask how fast we are going.....
But what I am VERY aware of is my Bionic Hearing capabilities. I can hear conversations between others across a room. Sleep is restless because the slightest sound will awaken me. You would think this super human trait would be welcome, but it is not. It can't be shut off and it can create an overwhelming buzz in my brain.
But the hardest side affect, not for me but for my husband, is that when I am in a vehicle it feels like we are going 170 mph and out of control. As you can imagine, this makes for an interesting 5 hour ride home. Now keep in mind I ask questions over and over....so "Chris, just how fast are you going?!?" or "Slow Down!!!" is a constant in my husbands ear.
He swears that we are only going 70 mph, but I know better. I just know he must be lying because it feels like 170 mph! So, I need to see the speedometer for proof, which drives him crazy because this isn't exactly and easy thing for me to do. I have multiple pillows surrounding me to help with comfort and I am in a compression bra and a compression piece around my mid section. I would liken it having 100 Spanks on at once. It is nearly impossible to sit up or to bend and it is excruciatingly painful to do so. But I MUST see the speedometer because there is no way in hell he is only going 70!
When he changes lanes it feels like the car is going to go flying off the road and I scream at him to slow down again for the 100th time. I try to contain it but I am constantly jumping and grabbing at the handle of the door. The last straw for Mr. Eckhoff was when I grabbed his seat belt and screamed as he passed a semi.
His nerves frayed beyond humanly possible he turns off the interstate. He thinks it will do us both good to get out of the car for a bit and get something to eat. We sit in the back of Charlie's Cafe, which was fairly busy. BUT then my super sonic, bionic hearing kicked in. I couldn't take it, it was too much noise at once. I could hear every single person in that cafe talking and it was system overload. I started crying and left before Chris could finish eating. I laid down in the back of the car.
Chris' brilliant idea was for me just to stay in the backseat for the remainder of the drive. BIG MISTAKE! Now, instead of 170 mph, we were going faster than the speed of sound and I was in hysterics. We had to pull over and put me in the front seat. (I can't be sure but I thought I saw a tear in his eye as he buckled me in and I can only guess it wasn't for me.)
So thus once again, what I can only imagine is sheer torture for my husband, I begin again screaming, jumping, asking how fast we are going, trying to get a look at the speedometer and then passing out from the pain. Only to be awakened because we are going to fly off the road and I scream, jump, ask how fast we are going.....
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
OVERTHINKING A SCALE OF 1 - 10 ?
Surgery #3 in the bag!
Did my usual prep beforehand...laundry, packing, some grocery shopping for the kids, underarm waxing...can't forget that. And since I'm already there why not the brows, upper lip and toes (don't ask). I am vain. Actually it's quite necessary since I am unable to shave my underarms for weeks. Plus, when I'm laying on the operating table I would hate to offend. So you see it's for the hospital staff really. Common courtesy. Scratch the vain and replace with thoughtful, or giving, or selfless...you choose.
On the way here I made Chris stop at Albertville, Target (oh how I miss you since we moved), and as many gas stations as possible. He finally realized I was stalling. I didn't want to arrive at my destination. Since I don't do well with anesthesia and had so many issues with my muscles I wasn't all too excited for another go at it.
The surgery went well. They did a whole different cocktail for knocking me out and injected my muscles with Botox to ward off the muscle spasms I had so bad last time. I was in recovery for quite some time and finally brought to my room where it soon began. "On a scale of 1 - 10, how would you rate your pain?"
This question freaks me out every time. I don't know why but it sends me into a panic where I try to explain why I chose the number I did. "I just had surgery so I would say 10! Well, no maybe not. Is 10 reserved for screaming out of your mind pain? No, I would assume they don't ask that question if your screaming. So, is it ok to use 10?? Maybe we better say 9, yes a 9."
I am finally settled in and not moving too much and here it comes. "On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your pain?" This to me is tricky. I'm full of meds and not a ten but it certainly isn't a 2. I pick 5, what I call an annoying, constant pain but not unbearable.
It's in the middle of the night and I am on at least four or five different meds when I'm asked THE Question. My first reaction is to say 2 but wait, that's too close to 1 and is anyone ever a one? I mean, even healthy, are you completely pain free? And if I say 2 or 3 will they reduce the meds, because right now they are working. Better off with a 4. "Yes a 4" I say. "Not a five, where it's annoying but it's there, so yes a 4." Whew!
I am asked that question at least every 3-4 hours so you can imagine how crazy they think I am.
I am allowed to leave the hospital today and will have to stay in a hotel for at least a night to be close. Things are going well so far. When I got to my room I felt my new breasts and cried. They feel normal.
Well, I have to go, the nurses are here and I need to rate my pain again....I'm starting to hurt again but I don't want to seem like I'm a pill popper so I am thinking 7. Yes, definitely 7.
Did my usual prep beforehand...laundry, packing, some grocery shopping for the kids, underarm waxing...can't forget that. And since I'm already there why not the brows, upper lip and toes (don't ask). I am vain. Actually it's quite necessary since I am unable to shave my underarms for weeks. Plus, when I'm laying on the operating table I would hate to offend. So you see it's for the hospital staff really. Common courtesy. Scratch the vain and replace with thoughtful, or giving, or selfless...you choose.
On the way here I made Chris stop at Albertville, Target (oh how I miss you since we moved), and as many gas stations as possible. He finally realized I was stalling. I didn't want to arrive at my destination. Since I don't do well with anesthesia and had so many issues with my muscles I wasn't all too excited for another go at it.
The surgery went well. They did a whole different cocktail for knocking me out and injected my muscles with Botox to ward off the muscle spasms I had so bad last time. I was in recovery for quite some time and finally brought to my room where it soon began. "On a scale of 1 - 10, how would you rate your pain?"
This question freaks me out every time. I don't know why but it sends me into a panic where I try to explain why I chose the number I did. "I just had surgery so I would say 10! Well, no maybe not. Is 10 reserved for screaming out of your mind pain? No, I would assume they don't ask that question if your screaming. So, is it ok to use 10?? Maybe we better say 9, yes a 9."
I am finally settled in and not moving too much and here it comes. "On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your pain?" This to me is tricky. I'm full of meds and not a ten but it certainly isn't a 2. I pick 5, what I call an annoying, constant pain but not unbearable.
It's in the middle of the night and I am on at least four or five different meds when I'm asked THE Question. My first reaction is to say 2 but wait, that's too close to 1 and is anyone ever a one? I mean, even healthy, are you completely pain free? And if I say 2 or 3 will they reduce the meds, because right now they are working. Better off with a 4. "Yes a 4" I say. "Not a five, where it's annoying but it's there, so yes a 4." Whew!
I am asked that question at least every 3-4 hours so you can imagine how crazy they think I am.
I am allowed to leave the hospital today and will have to stay in a hotel for at least a night to be close. Things are going well so far. When I got to my room I felt my new breasts and cried. They feel normal.
Well, I have to go, the nurses are here and I need to rate my pain again....I'm starting to hurt again but I don't want to seem like I'm a pill popper so I am thinking 7. Yes, definitely 7.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
I AM.....
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I have been thinking a lot about what my responsibility is for this. In trying to figure out what to write I went back and read my blog and at times thought I was reading about someone else. It seems surreal to say I AM A BREAST CANCER SURVIVOR.
And as I think of Breast Cancer Awareness I think a lot about my journey and how I got to survivor. I wanted to say I AM LUCKY. But that just didn't seem to fit. Luck maybe had a small part of it, but I AM PROUD of the fact it was more about ME scheduling a mammogram and ME, who pursued answers to my questions.
I AM FORTUNATE that we caught it early. That was the key. Yes, I have had a double mastectomy and three surgeries, with a fourth to go. But it could have been worse, much worse. Because we caught it early, I am fortunate I did not have to go through chemo or radiation. I am fortunate it did not have the time to spread.
I AM STILL in the middle of reconstruction. I have had 3 major surgeries with another November 12th. Yet, I have moved on in so many ways past breast cancer. That's the way it should be. Life is about living! And believe me I am now on a diet to get rid of all the extra living I did this summer!
I AM CANCER FREE! I go in every six months to make sure this stays that way. It used to mess with me pretty bad with worry but it's getting better as time goes on.
I AM GRATEFUL that I have this second chance to realize what is important in my life. I now don't take for granted this life and everyone around me. I sometimes feel an overwhelming sense of emotion when I wake up, sit in my porch with my cup of coffee and watch the sunrise. I AM HAPPY!
And no, I AM NOT SOME CRAZY LADY skipping through life without a care in the world. No, I have my bad days but now I have the sense to kick myself in the ass to snap out of it.
So, for breast cancer awareness month I AM ASKING that everyone make sure to schedule your mammograms and follow through. No one is going to do this for you. It's crazy to think on average one in eight women will get it. It's too many and it breaks my heart to hear all of the stories.
And Lastly I AM PRAYING that in my lifetime we will find a cure for breast cancer and all other cancers out there.
And as I think of Breast Cancer Awareness I think a lot about my journey and how I got to survivor. I wanted to say I AM LUCKY. But that just didn't seem to fit. Luck maybe had a small part of it, but I AM PROUD of the fact it was more about ME scheduling a mammogram and ME, who pursued answers to my questions.
I AM FORTUNATE that we caught it early. That was the key. Yes, I have had a double mastectomy and three surgeries, with a fourth to go. But it could have been worse, much worse. Because we caught it early, I am fortunate I did not have to go through chemo or radiation. I am fortunate it did not have the time to spread.
I AM STILL in the middle of reconstruction. I have had 3 major surgeries with another November 12th. Yet, I have moved on in so many ways past breast cancer. That's the way it should be. Life is about living! And believe me I am now on a diet to get rid of all the extra living I did this summer!
I AM CANCER FREE! I go in every six months to make sure this stays that way. It used to mess with me pretty bad with worry but it's getting better as time goes on.
I AM GRATEFUL that I have this second chance to realize what is important in my life. I now don't take for granted this life and everyone around me. I sometimes feel an overwhelming sense of emotion when I wake up, sit in my porch with my cup of coffee and watch the sunrise. I AM HAPPY!
And no, I AM NOT SOME CRAZY LADY skipping through life without a care in the world. No, I have my bad days but now I have the sense to kick myself in the ass to snap out of it.
So, for breast cancer awareness month I AM ASKING that everyone make sure to schedule your mammograms and follow through. No one is going to do this for you. It's crazy to think on average one in eight women will get it. It's too many and it breaks my heart to hear all of the stories.
And Lastly I AM PRAYING that in my lifetime we will find a cure for breast cancer and all other cancers out there.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Boob Job Prayer
Sitting in the waiting room trying not to cry. We just found out my quest for a chest is once again possibly delayed. It's been awhile so let me fill you in with a little back story....
I didn't write about it as it was happening because frankly I was sick of talking about my ordeal and therefor assumed everyone must be sick of hearing about it. Plus, I have a friend going through this journey and I knew she would be reading my blog. The last thing I wanted to do was scare the crap out of her.
My surgery to put in the expanders that would slowly stretch my muscles and skin to accommodate implants was rough. I was in the hospital for three nights throwing up and passing out. I had just had major surgery on my chest, where they cut my muscles and sewed in extra tissue to hold the expanders in. As much as I hate to have you think about hurling, just think of how many chest muscles you use during the act of upchucking. It was quite possibly the most painful experience of my life!
Once I recovered from surgery it was time to start expanding. How this works is that every few weeks you go in to the doctor and they stick a large needle into a built in port in each expander to fill them with saline. Not as bad as it sounds, unless of course you are me and the doctor nicks a nerve putting the needle in. Which in turn caused me to heavily drool as I passed out in the chair. At this point, since I was looking like a problem child (what's new), my doctors at Mayo decided they wanted to do all the expansions. (I had originally planned on going to Fargo each time for fills. This would have meant a 45 minute drive instead of a 5 hour drive). But alas, off we went back to Rochester. And since I was so sick of being in Rochester I insisted on driving there and back in one day. 10 hours of driving, which we later found out is a no-no and most likely contributed to the next paragraph.
To say my body hated this expansion process in an understatement. Have you every had a charlie horse in your leg? Well, that was what was happening in my chest. With no warning it would hit and knock the wind out of me and immediately fill my eyes with tears. It would leave me unable to move until it subsided. It got so bad that it landed me in the ER. Eventually it made me so scared to do any activities for fear it would trigger another cramp. Around this same time I developed small patches of red rashes on my neck, hairline and eyelids. They would come and go and my doctors didn't think anything of it and prescribed some ointment. (This is important later in the story).
Eventually due to these issues the doctors decided that they would have to stop the fills for the expansion process. Therefore crushing my dreams of Dolly Partons. And again Mr. Eckhoff was delivered the hard news that he would not be able to choose the size. I had to try and be happy that I would eventually end up with some nice looking B cups. In hind-site, it's a heck of a lot better than the craters that were there after my double mastectomy, but at the time I was in no mood for positive reflection. The cramps eventually faded and I actually enjoyed my summer. Scratch that, I rocked my summer! I could fill pages and pages of everything we crammed in to our summer and by the time we left Friday for my pre-op I really was grateful and feeling extremely blessed.
Flash forward to now...Remember that little rash no one thought much of? Turns out this is now very worrisome. It has never really gone away and it decided to really make a showing at my appointment. The doctors are very concered my body is trying to tell them SOMETHING. There will be no surgery until we find out what is going on. In light of all of the issues I have had during the expansion process they are worried that my body is still not accepting these foreign objects. If that is the case it could mean no Boobs, which I hate to say would be devastating to me. Now those B-Cups sure don't sound so bad! The docors are setting up more appointments to run tests and to biopsy my skin. This rash could be something altogether not related to my expanders, but then it still leaves them with the worry of what is my body saying? With my history they are not taking any chances. Understandable but frustrating to say the least.
So for now, I don't want to come across shallow and come right out and ask for prayer that I am able to eventually have my boob job.... BUT ....I guess when it comes right down to it that IS EXACTLY what I am asking.
I didn't write about it as it was happening because frankly I was sick of talking about my ordeal and therefor assumed everyone must be sick of hearing about it. Plus, I have a friend going through this journey and I knew she would be reading my blog. The last thing I wanted to do was scare the crap out of her.
My surgery to put in the expanders that would slowly stretch my muscles and skin to accommodate implants was rough. I was in the hospital for three nights throwing up and passing out. I had just had major surgery on my chest, where they cut my muscles and sewed in extra tissue to hold the expanders in. As much as I hate to have you think about hurling, just think of how many chest muscles you use during the act of upchucking. It was quite possibly the most painful experience of my life!
Once I recovered from surgery it was time to start expanding. How this works is that every few weeks you go in to the doctor and they stick a large needle into a built in port in each expander to fill them with saline. Not as bad as it sounds, unless of course you are me and the doctor nicks a nerve putting the needle in. Which in turn caused me to heavily drool as I passed out in the chair. At this point, since I was looking like a problem child (what's new), my doctors at Mayo decided they wanted to do all the expansions. (I had originally planned on going to Fargo each time for fills. This would have meant a 45 minute drive instead of a 5 hour drive). But alas, off we went back to Rochester. And since I was so sick of being in Rochester I insisted on driving there and back in one day. 10 hours of driving, which we later found out is a no-no and most likely contributed to the next paragraph.
To say my body hated this expansion process in an understatement. Have you every had a charlie horse in your leg? Well, that was what was happening in my chest. With no warning it would hit and knock the wind out of me and immediately fill my eyes with tears. It would leave me unable to move until it subsided. It got so bad that it landed me in the ER. Eventually it made me so scared to do any activities for fear it would trigger another cramp. Around this same time I developed small patches of red rashes on my neck, hairline and eyelids. They would come and go and my doctors didn't think anything of it and prescribed some ointment. (This is important later in the story).
Eventually due to these issues the doctors decided that they would have to stop the fills for the expansion process. Therefore crushing my dreams of Dolly Partons. And again Mr. Eckhoff was delivered the hard news that he would not be able to choose the size. I had to try and be happy that I would eventually end up with some nice looking B cups. In hind-site, it's a heck of a lot better than the craters that were there after my double mastectomy, but at the time I was in no mood for positive reflection. The cramps eventually faded and I actually enjoyed my summer. Scratch that, I rocked my summer! I could fill pages and pages of everything we crammed in to our summer and by the time we left Friday for my pre-op I really was grateful and feeling extremely blessed.
Flash forward to now...Remember that little rash no one thought much of? Turns out this is now very worrisome. It has never really gone away and it decided to really make a showing at my appointment. The doctors are very concered my body is trying to tell them SOMETHING. There will be no surgery until we find out what is going on. In light of all of the issues I have had during the expansion process they are worried that my body is still not accepting these foreign objects. If that is the case it could mean no Boobs, which I hate to say would be devastating to me. Now those B-Cups sure don't sound so bad! The docors are setting up more appointments to run tests and to biopsy my skin. This rash could be something altogether not related to my expanders, but then it still leaves them with the worry of what is my body saying? With my history they are not taking any chances. Understandable but frustrating to say the least.
So for now, I don't want to come across shallow and come right out and ask for prayer that I am able to eventually have my boob job.... BUT ....I guess when it comes right down to it that IS EXACTLY what I am asking.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
CANCER = ???
My doctor hates the word Cancer and how it is used as such a broad term of diagnosis. When you think about it, the word Cancer is often thought of as a singular disease. However, its meaning can vary greatly to each person and each person's story. Even within my diagnosis of breast cancer there were so many variables, some of which can change even as you go through the process. Let me touch on just a few (and forgive me for not always using correct medical terminology).
First, what type of breast cancer? I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma, meaning my cancer began in the ducts of the breast. This cancer represents 75% of all breast cancers. There is also Lobular and less common types such as Medullary, Mucinous, Tubular, Papillary and Pagets. I won't even start to try and explain them all in detail.
Is the cancer "in situ" (basically meaning in place) or has it become invasive? If it's invasive, how far has it spread? I had many small spots of cancer, some in situ and others invasive. Others may have one tumor. Either way, you need to look at what is the size of the tumor(s) and what is the grade? The grade is how aggressive the tumor is. Then there is what most people know about cancer...the stage, which is determined by the grade and the size. We have to find out if you are estrogen positive or negative? Also, are you BRCA1 or BRCA2 positive, which we find out by genetic testing. Basically that tells you if you have the cancer gene, therefore putting you at higher risks for reoccurrence and other cancers. I had 90% of my genes mapped and was negative.
So, how you treat your cancer will depend on every one of these questions. Then armed with answers it will also depend on where you are being treated, your doctor's recommendations, even your age and finally your wishes. I won't even start to talk about all the variables of reconstruction if you have a mastectomy. But that will also come into play with deciding on your course of your healing.
When you first hear the words confirming you have cancer your first thoughts are very grim. No way around it, death immediately comes to mind. This is why my doctor hates that word on its own. It immediately sends you, and everyone you love, into very dark thoughts. As you can imagine, trying to learn all the ins and outs of your diagnosis is information overload. Especially since you are still in shock from hearing you have cancer in the first place. It takes a bit to claw your way back to finding hope and hopefully your faith.
I write this because like many of you, I had no idea of the complexity of it all. I can't speak for everyone but sometimes many of the survivors I have talked to find it hard to hear some of the well-intended suggestions and questions from people when they are first trying to absorb it all and figure out the best course of action.
I have a good friend who was recently diagnosed. Even though my friend and I were both diagnosed with breast cancer our journey of healing has taken very different paths. However, as survivors we are still very much connected with our fight, hope and faith.
A common question immediately out of people's mouths is "what is the stage of your cancer?". My friend said that question felt like they were asking her if she was going to die? She didn't share her stage because she wanted to focus on what she was doing to treat her cancer. She needed to focus on the positive & not the negative of her cancer.
One other thing you should never do to someone newly diagnosed is tell them a story of someone who has lost their battle. This happens more than you can imagine. Remember, when we are first diagnosed we are clinging to hope and need every positive story and every miracle.
So, next time someone you know is diagnosed offer an ear to what they are willing to share at that moment. Everyone is different. If you are unsure of where they are at with their journey aSk questions that focus on their plan of healing. Ask how you can help and by all means offer prayer and positive thoughts. And no matter what, please know above all else we need you and we are so grateful for your love and support.
First, what type of breast cancer? I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma, meaning my cancer began in the ducts of the breast. This cancer represents 75% of all breast cancers. There is also Lobular and less common types such as Medullary, Mucinous, Tubular, Papillary and Pagets. I won't even start to try and explain them all in detail.
Is the cancer "in situ" (basically meaning in place) or has it become invasive? If it's invasive, how far has it spread? I had many small spots of cancer, some in situ and others invasive. Others may have one tumor. Either way, you need to look at what is the size of the tumor(s) and what is the grade? The grade is how aggressive the tumor is. Then there is what most people know about cancer...the stage, which is determined by the grade and the size. We have to find out if you are estrogen positive or negative? Also, are you BRCA1 or BRCA2 positive, which we find out by genetic testing. Basically that tells you if you have the cancer gene, therefore putting you at higher risks for reoccurrence and other cancers. I had 90% of my genes mapped and was negative.
So, how you treat your cancer will depend on every one of these questions. Then armed with answers it will also depend on where you are being treated, your doctor's recommendations, even your age and finally your wishes. I won't even start to talk about all the variables of reconstruction if you have a mastectomy. But that will also come into play with deciding on your course of your healing.
When you first hear the words confirming you have cancer your first thoughts are very grim. No way around it, death immediately comes to mind. This is why my doctor hates that word on its own. It immediately sends you, and everyone you love, into very dark thoughts. As you can imagine, trying to learn all the ins and outs of your diagnosis is information overload. Especially since you are still in shock from hearing you have cancer in the first place. It takes a bit to claw your way back to finding hope and hopefully your faith.
I write this because like many of you, I had no idea of the complexity of it all. I can't speak for everyone but sometimes many of the survivors I have talked to find it hard to hear some of the well-intended suggestions and questions from people when they are first trying to absorb it all and figure out the best course of action.
I have a good friend who was recently diagnosed. Even though my friend and I were both diagnosed with breast cancer our journey of healing has taken very different paths. However, as survivors we are still very much connected with our fight, hope and faith.
A common question immediately out of people's mouths is "what is the stage of your cancer?". My friend said that question felt like they were asking her if she was going to die? She didn't share her stage because she wanted to focus on what she was doing to treat her cancer. She needed to focus on the positive & not the negative of her cancer.
One other thing you should never do to someone newly diagnosed is tell them a story of someone who has lost their battle. This happens more than you can imagine. Remember, when we are first diagnosed we are clinging to hope and need every positive story and every miracle.
So, next time someone you know is diagnosed offer an ear to what they are willing to share at that moment. Everyone is different. If you are unsure of where they are at with their journey aSk questions that focus on their plan of healing. Ask how you can help and by all means offer prayer and positive thoughts. And no matter what, please know above all else we need you and we are so grateful for your love and support.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Male nurses, two little blips and God
I started my reconstruction and am on lots of meds so this might ramble... It was a tough road getting here again. Being my normal, rebellious self I didn't listen to anybody's advice and one day last week I sat on the Internet all day and watched every video on reconstruction... I watched medical videos and I watched video blogs of other women, where at the end they show you their battle wounds. Dont worry i have no intention of showing you quite yet. Although we have joked about a big reveal when all is said and done! It's just that I didnt remember much about being in the hospital last time. HELLO, DEFENSE MECHANISM!
I have been in the hospital for three nights. The first night was spent throwing up and heaving all night, sending my chest into unbelievable pain. Then we started having issues with my blood pressure being too low. I would have episodes where I couldn't lift my head or even open my eyes and it would feel like my whole body was riding a roller coaster.
I am told I will be released today on the condition that I eat something and actually hold it down and that we stay in Rochester for another night or two.
What I have learned this go around.
I will need to carry a medical card because when all is said (after 2-3 more surgeries) I will set off all airport security. I don't think many people realize that reconstruction is way more complicated than just throwing in some implants.
I truly like male nurses, and not just the hunky ones. I have had two different ones here and they rock. They aren't syrupy and are super fast in checking vitals when every little movement can set off severe nausea. They don't want to know your dogs name and keep chatter to what's important. They dont continually ask my number on the pain scale because they know i am in pain. I did have a great female nurse too that I do have to mention. Seriously, do nurses know how important they are? It so makes all the difference in the world.
Even though this has been tough and I still have a ways to go I get extremely giddy seeing two little blips starting to grow on my chest. They don't much matter when you are fighting for your life but after, they kind of do.
My relationship with God is starting to heal. I am letting go of some of the anger I have carried for so long, starting way before my daughters illness. I had been angry with him for a lot of reasons but this wasn't one of them. I have always hated when people put the positive spin on cancer and all the life's lessons you learn. I still hate it. Cancer sucks and I just refuse to give it any positive accolades in any way, shape or form. It's a tough one to reconcile, but at least I feel like I may actually have the big guy upstairs rooting for me!
I have been in the hospital for three nights. The first night was spent throwing up and heaving all night, sending my chest into unbelievable pain. Then we started having issues with my blood pressure being too low. I would have episodes where I couldn't lift my head or even open my eyes and it would feel like my whole body was riding a roller coaster.
I am told I will be released today on the condition that I eat something and actually hold it down and that we stay in Rochester for another night or two.
What I have learned this go around.
I will need to carry a medical card because when all is said (after 2-3 more surgeries) I will set off all airport security. I don't think many people realize that reconstruction is way more complicated than just throwing in some implants.
I truly like male nurses, and not just the hunky ones. I have had two different ones here and they rock. They aren't syrupy and are super fast in checking vitals when every little movement can set off severe nausea. They don't want to know your dogs name and keep chatter to what's important. They dont continually ask my number on the pain scale because they know i am in pain. I did have a great female nurse too that I do have to mention. Seriously, do nurses know how important they are? It so makes all the difference in the world.
Even though this has been tough and I still have a ways to go I get extremely giddy seeing two little blips starting to grow on my chest. They don't much matter when you are fighting for your life but after, they kind of do.
My relationship with God is starting to heal. I am letting go of some of the anger I have carried for so long, starting way before my daughters illness. I had been angry with him for a lot of reasons but this wasn't one of them. I have always hated when people put the positive spin on cancer and all the life's lessons you learn. I still hate it. Cancer sucks and I just refuse to give it any positive accolades in any way, shape or form. It's a tough one to reconcile, but at least I feel like I may actually have the big guy upstairs rooting for me!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
I AM LUCKY! IN LOVE THAT IS...
Valentine's Day - it was supposed to be the day of my surgery. We had some good jokes with that date - no pressure on Mr. Eckhoff for a Valentine's gift when your wife is in the hospital! However, he got lucky and the date of surgery had to be moved. We were looking at April but I got the phone call last night that it was rescheduled for March 19th.
This sent me into a tailspin. I had a hard time thinking about putting myself back there. It seems my life is just starting to come together again. I have been working hard on getting healthy and to think of being bed ridden, not being able to drive again, hurting again was a little overwhelming.
It got me thinking back and to thinking about Mr. Eckhoff. I am lucky. Through my daughter's illness and then my cancer I was able to see again what an amazing mans I have in Mr. Eckhoff. So bear with me as I take a stroll down every syrupy cliche out there....
From the day he came home to hear the news that I had cancer he has not faltered. He held it together when I couldn't. His timing was impeccable with a quick joke when I felt I would explode with anxiety. He took charge when I couldn't. He kept track of the appointments, the medicine, my caregivers (babysitters) and he took care of me. He tells me I'm beautiful when this scarred up body doesn't feel it. But most importantly he takes care of our children when I can't. He was there for them and he is still there for them in a way that has made me love him even more. I know its been hard on him, especially since he lost his mom to cancer, but he does't show it. He just stays a constant support for me and our family.
Yes, I AM LUCKY.
And, truth be told, I am lucky he puts up with me because if he didn't I have a sneaking suspicion my family would pick him over me.
This sent me into a tailspin. I had a hard time thinking about putting myself back there. It seems my life is just starting to come together again. I have been working hard on getting healthy and to think of being bed ridden, not being able to drive again, hurting again was a little overwhelming.
It got me thinking back and to thinking about Mr. Eckhoff. I am lucky. Through my daughter's illness and then my cancer I was able to see again what an amazing mans I have in Mr. Eckhoff. So bear with me as I take a stroll down every syrupy cliche out there....
From the day he came home to hear the news that I had cancer he has not faltered. He held it together when I couldn't. His timing was impeccable with a quick joke when I felt I would explode with anxiety. He took charge when I couldn't. He kept track of the appointments, the medicine, my caregivers (babysitters) and he took care of me. He tells me I'm beautiful when this scarred up body doesn't feel it. But most importantly he takes care of our children when I can't. He was there for them and he is still there for them in a way that has made me love him even more. I know its been hard on him, especially since he lost his mom to cancer, but he does't show it. He just stays a constant support for me and our family.
Yes, I AM LUCKY.
And, truth be told, I am lucky he puts up with me because if he didn't I have a sneaking suspicion my family would pick him over me.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Leecy
I have been told a friend of mine has Breast Cancer. Her name is Leecy and she is an amazing woman. Over this summer her and a group of ladies helped me out of a terrible funk. It was a real turning point in my journey.
Its like a punch to the gut reading her updates today as she is starting her journey. I have been there and I know what she is going through and I still struggle with the words to comfort her. Hell, I am struggling with words to write now. I just felt the need to put her name out there (with her permission of course). So, anyone who has ever put up my name in prayer I ask of you to do the same for my friend Leecy.
I have to say that when we were waiting for her results over the weekend I had told her I was not accepting her application to the Cancer Club. But, as much as I hate it - I have to face it - it's now official - she has joined. And if you have ever had the pleasure of meeting Leecy, then you know what a firecracker she is. You just know that she has not only joined, but she will be rewriting the rules and will be President of this damn club soon.
Its like a punch to the gut reading her updates today as she is starting her journey. I have been there and I know what she is going through and I still struggle with the words to comfort her. Hell, I am struggling with words to write now. I just felt the need to put her name out there (with her permission of course). So, anyone who has ever put up my name in prayer I ask of you to do the same for my friend Leecy.
I have to say that when we were waiting for her results over the weekend I had told her I was not accepting her application to the Cancer Club. But, as much as I hate it - I have to face it - it's now official - she has joined. And if you have ever had the pleasure of meeting Leecy, then you know what a firecracker she is. You just know that she has not only joined, but she will be rewriting the rules and will be President of this damn club soon.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Diamonds in a Dishwasher
I received a letter from Mayo before Christmas. I didn't open it. I didn't know if I could take it if the news was bad and it would wreck my Christmas. We were also moving over Christmas break and I didn't need one more thing on my plate. I think I could have left it unopened if it weren't for my family continually asking me if I had heard anything yet. I could somehow forget about it, but they couldn't.
And I quote..."Dear Mrs. Eckhoff, It was our sincere pleasure to see you on December 6, 2012...(Yes, they actually start the cancer letter this way)...At that time a re-excision of the lesion was performed...blah blah blah...a biopsy was obtained.....blah blah.....found the cells involving the peripheral border(s)CLEAR! ....blah blah....NO FURTHER TREATMENT of this area is recommended....blah blah...Advise to continue with follow up visits every 6 months...It was a pleasure to participate in your care. Sincerely, Doctor Young and Handsome, M.D."
I know I should feel elation, but I don't. It's kind of like getting an appliance for your birthday or anniversary. Take for instance the anniversary of a couple of good friends of mine, who shall remain nameless. She came home to find her husband presenting her with a brand, spanking new dishwasher for their anniversary. She stopped, turned to him and stated "There better be f#@king diamonds hanging in it!" Classic. You know you need it it, you know you want it, but are you happy when you get it presented as a gift...No. You kind of expect to have good, working appliances.
I know life is a gift. I get that, I really do. Believe me you, I have made so many changes in my life because of that realization. But right now I just want good working appliances that I don't have to worry about anymore and I sure wouldn't mind a few diamonds either.
And I quote..."Dear Mrs. Eckhoff, It was our sincere pleasure to see you on December 6, 2012...(Yes, they actually start the cancer letter this way)...At that time a re-excision of the lesion was performed...blah blah blah...a biopsy was obtained.....blah blah.....found the cells involving the peripheral border(s)CLEAR! ....blah blah....NO FURTHER TREATMENT of this area is recommended....blah blah...Advise to continue with follow up visits every 6 months...It was a pleasure to participate in your care. Sincerely, Doctor Young and Handsome, M.D."
I know I should feel elation, but I don't. It's kind of like getting an appliance for your birthday or anniversary. Take for instance the anniversary of a couple of good friends of mine, who shall remain nameless. She came home to find her husband presenting her with a brand, spanking new dishwasher for their anniversary. She stopped, turned to him and stated "There better be f#@king diamonds hanging in it!" Classic. You know you need it it, you know you want it, but are you happy when you get it presented as a gift...No. You kind of expect to have good, working appliances.
I know life is a gift. I get that, I really do. Believe me you, I have made so many changes in my life because of that realization. But right now I just want good working appliances that I don't have to worry about anymore and I sure wouldn't mind a few diamonds either.
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