Boys v. Girls

Watch a girl at play. It's all about pretend. "Let's pretend that I am Rainbow Sparkle and you are my honey. I am the mom in the game." (Honey is what I call Sabrina a lot. I guess "honey" is Rainbow Sparkle's child?) Watch a boy at play. Raiden can already make truck noises and loves to sit in Sasha's dump truck. Watch a boy who has an older sister play? "Let's pretend that I am a ninja. This is my sword. Let's pretend that this is my pocket." Me: "The pocket is on your back?" Sasha: "Yeah." Me: "The pocket is for your sword?" Sasha: "Yeah. Pretend there is a shark (shawk) on you. I will save you. I am the black ninja. I have a black mask and black clothes."

So, naturally, I say, "help, black ninja, there is a shark on me" and Sasha pulls his sword off his back and swipes the imaginary sword in my general direction, complete with sound effects. Rinse, wash, repeat about eighty-three times. He's just so darn adorable!

Just now, the kids were in bed but Sabrina came out and said she had a scary dream about a dinosaur. After reassuring her that there are no dinosaurs now, I walked her back to bed. She was still a little nervous, so I told her when she is scared she can ask Jesus for help and asked her if she wanted to say a little prayer. Yes, she said. Here is her totally unprompted prayer. "Dear Heavenly Father, I had a scary dream about a dinosaur. Please help me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen." I mean really. What more is there to say?

Mother's Day

I don't want to talk about cancer. It's depressing and chemo is almost here, and I'm not feeling that optimistic and brave anymore. Not now that it's the next step. Instead I give you a special Mother's Day edition.

I went to all of church today. This was only made possible by the boys napping during church. When church is at 9 and Raiden is 1 1/2, we could conceivably make it to all three meetings as a family. Now? Very little chance. However, I wanted to make it to sacrament meeting to a) hear Sabrina sing "Mother I Love You," and b) to get chocolate. In that order. I could always buy chocolate. I haven't eaten the chocolate yet, because it's too amazing to just eat. Or to share. Zane would eat the whole truffle in three bites, whereas I will likely take 70 or so. Sabrina was adorable in her white dress that once was mine, and sang 50% of the words of the three songs they sang. Not bad, not bad at all. She sang 85% of "Mother I Love You." As well she should.

We had a wonderful Relief Society lesson about how we Mormons think we have to be perfect, hence Utah's high rate of plastic surgery and panic attacks on Sunday night. I feel blessed that I have always had wonderful wards where people seem okay sharing their flaws, at least to some extent. I did get a little frustrated when a sister expressed how she would like to bear testimony of how when we are depressed or unhappy we need to get our life right with Jesus. Of course, sometimes this is true! And sometimes we need Vitamin P(rozac), because this is a mortal world. Fortunately, our teacher immediately said that sometimes Jesus can lead us to doctors who can provide us with the necessary vitamins (like Vitamin P). I don't think the first woman was anti-anti-depressants (ha ha), but the way she said it sort of sounds like the depressed person is at fault, a sinner, and needs to get more perfect. It's hard, because she wasn't wrong, but the way it came out could be taken wrong by someone struggling with depression.

In talking to my SIL, Breklyn, about this, she mentioned something to the effect that the natural man being an enemy to God was not just that we have lust or greed or whatever. It's sometimes us feeling sad when we should feel happy. I mean, we have the plan of salvation, knowledge of the preexistence and life after death, eternal perspective, all of that. We know about eternal families and supposedly have a close relationship with our Father in Heaven. And yet, our bodies, our natural (wo)man, through an imbalance of serotonin or whatever, cause us to be unhappy. This idea really makes sense to me.

I have the day off tomorrow, so I'm going with Sabrina to see the baby lambs on a field trip with her preschool and cleaning my house. Sounds like a great day, coming right up!

Next Step!

Woohoo! My drains are out! I am untethered!

Seriously, drains are a pain. I was so happy to get the second and last drain out today. My students had finally started asking what that green little pocket was, and I told them. They were grossed out, because they either have no scientific curiosity or too much imagination.

The next step, of course, is chemo. Actually, I stand corrected. The next step is HEALING. My plastic surgeon says the longer the better, from his point of view, before chemo. I assume he doesn't actually mean that. I wanted chemo to start next week, but he says he'd prefer two weeks. Fine, doctor. But every time I finish one step, I want to go on to the next one. When I still have drains, my goal was to get them out. Now I have to wait two weeks until chemo, and it just feels too long.

On the other hand, I saw the infusion room today, and chemo feels a little more real than it did this morning. The infusion room is very nice, with personal TVs for each patient, and lots of old people sitting around. Lots of old people plus me, that's what it's going to be.

The Race for the Cure is tomorrow. I still don't want to join your club.

Drains and Steps

After surgery, I had two drains put in. A drain is a hand grenade-sized and shaped (just kidding, I have no real idea how big a hand grenade is) plastic bulb attached to a long plastic tube. The tube, about two feet long, is literally sewn into my body to drain lymph fluid and blood. A couple of times a day, I have to empty these drains, record how much...stuff is in them, and the color of the...stuff. The worst part of this is that I can't sleep on my side. Either side. I just lie on my back all night long. When I was at my mom's house it was okay, but sleeping in the same bed as a restless sleeper who likes to take up 2/3 of the bed, minimum? I've been sleeping on the couch.

In other news, Raiden has started walking and talking! Well, you know, like 11-month-old children do. He took his first steps while I was in the hospital. Of course. He can do two or three steps at a time, although he still prefers to crawl most of the time.

Additionally, Raiden also has started saying words. My dad was up the other day, and told me Raiden could say "boom" and "ka-boom." Sure Dad, I thought. Sure he can. But after Dad said "Ka-boom" to Raiden four or five times, out comes Raiden with a "A-boooom." So. There you have it. Raiden is officially a boy. Two of his first five words are "boom" and "vroom" while holding a car. Who says boys and girls are the same?

Sabrina and Sasha seem to be doing well. In an effort to get them to be gentle with me, I showed them my "owie." Sasha was especially interested in it, and wants to see it constantly. I put him off when we're in front of the living room windows! They seem to be adjusting well, and I think it's been really important that I've been as upfront as their ages and maturity allow.

I'm going back to school tomorrow. I think I could have gone back on Thursday, but since no one except me wanted me to go back then, I took the rest of last week off. That's right, I bowed to peer pressure. Well, to doctor pressure. Still, I will go back tomorrow and I will finish out the year. Take that, cancer!

Surgery

There will likely be more details later, but here are the high points of the mastectomy:

1. I no longer have a right breast. Yay! The surgeon didn't mess up and take the wrong one! I've been thinking about that scripture "a hair on your head shall not be lost." I know it sounds like I'm trying to be cute here (maybe just a little, but only a little) but I'm changing it to more current relevance. Of course, after a couple of rounds of chemo, the "hair on the head" maybe will sound more relevant too.

2. Margins are clear. I can't tell you how marvelous this is. If the margins were NOT clear, that would mean the surgeon didn't get all of it and would have to do more surgery. Awful.

3. The mass he removed was big (9 cm) but most of it was NOT invasive cancer, which is what they worry about most. Not that there wasn't cancer, but the cancer masses were all small. The biggest was only about 2 cm. WAY better news than we thought.

4. There were lymph nodes involved. This is the bad news. The four "sentinel" lymph nodes, the first four that drain(ed) the breast, were all "involved." They did another 13 lymph nodes, and three had microscopic cancer in them. On one hand, it is bad that there is cancer there. On the other hand, there is not a lot, and most of the lymph nodes were NOT involved. That is to say, chemo and radiation should get the little buggers. Hooray for chemo and radiation!

Thank you all so much for your prayers, good thoughts, love, lighting candles, fasts, and putting me on the prayer roll at the temple, depending on religious preference! I have been so grateful for all of you. Please don't stop! I feel the first big step has been taken, but I still have a long road of...unpleasantness to deal with. I can't express how much you have strengthened me. I feel so lucky for the support I have in this crappy situation.

New Hair

I really need pictures for this post, but I don't have them yet. Still, I can document the story for posterity!

Today I got my hair cut. I have a few weeks -- maybe eight-- before my hair falls out. But when it does, my understanding is it's like the cartoon leaves that basically go whump! and are on the ground. I thought that if 18+ inches of hair fell off like that, well, it would be harder than necessary. Also, I like my hair. So I decided to cut off my hair preemptively to make a hat with hair. I'm planning on getting a wig, too, but I thought it would be psychologically comforting to actually have my own real hair. It also won't be as hard when only 2 inches of hair falls out. I hope.

Today, then, I went to see Lorna, who has done Mom's hair for basically forever. At Mom's suggestion, I also took my kids. There are family legends about Benn seeing Mom's new haircut or (worse!) Dad after having shaved off his mustache and sort of freaking out. Sabrina and Sasha watched the process. Sabrina told me I looked like a boy. Sigh. But no one freaked out (until Spencer saw it, that is). Raiden didn't care, because apparently I sound the same, or smell the same, or something. Regardless, he wasn't bugged, and thanks to them watching the process, the Twokids weren't either. Sabrina also got her hair trimmed, so that was another thing that helped her be okay with my hair cut. I did tell her I was getting my hair really short, and she told me she just wanted her hair "a little bit short." It took me a little while to realize she wanted her hair still long. A little bit long. Of course.

I'm exiting denial. It sucks. Denial is a nice place to live. Nice climate.

Reconstruction

Today, I met with the plastic surgeon. When I have a mastectomy in a couple of weeks, he will put in a tissue expander to make room for eventual reconstruction. Because I'm having radiation, he does not want to just put in an implant, since radiation kills both cancer cells and perfectly good cells. There are two options.

1. Use tissue from the abdomen. Tummy tuck plus reconstruction? Sounds great! However, there are downsides, most notably FIVE days in the hospital and six weeks of recovery. Plus, surprising as it may sound, I don't have enough tissue in my abdomen to reconstruct this baby. Strike option number one.

2. Use the latissimus muscle. The downside here is that I'll never again be a world-class swimmer or rower. My public will be disappointed. It looks like option two is the winner.

I have had so many people call and email to check on me. Thank you all so much! I feel so loved and taken care of. Thank you especially for your prayers and fasts. I feel incredibly humble that so many people are taking my cancer problems to Heavenly Father. I don't know what I need yet from my family and friends, but right now the prayers and love are the best things I could ask for. Second is that those of you who know my children, please love them. They are my biggest concerns right now. They are almost my only concerns. I cannot bear the thought of leaving them. This is what breaks my heart. Fortunately, it looks like that won't happen, which is why I really am doing well right now. I can do it. I can do the physical pain and discomfort and reconstruction. I will miss my hair and breast, but as long as I still have my health family and friends, I will make it through this hard time and come out the other side. I plan on looking back at this year from the age of a tree. An old tree, maybe an olive tree.