Saying Good-bye to my Hair

Round two was a bit easier. We even took my mom to Rudy's for dinner. I didn't have too much of an appetite but knew that I needed to eat before my taste buds went bad.

My hair was starting to fall out. Sure enough, they told me around day 14. It got to a point that I didn't want to shower anymore because it was so traumatizing. I have had long hair for the majority of my life. I had that thick, straight Asian hair. RJ was amazing and reassured me that he would love me with or without hair. My mom encouraged me to go ahead and get it shaved. It was very difficult and felt as if that was another way for me to lose my feminality. Many women say that losing their hair is worse than losing their breast. While I was going through it, I would have to agree. I now realize that losing my hair was temporary.

During that time, I would cry each time I showered, brushed by hair or woke up with clumps of hair on my pillow. I'm grateful that I cut off my long hair because it was easier to see short hair fall out rather than longer hair. My head started aching too. All this was normal and it was time to visit Pat's Painter, my wig place.

Bonnie took care of me there. She's a hoot and recommended that I went ahead and shaved my head. I knew it was coming. The fine print on the chemo labels will say a small percentage of people will not lose their hair and I guess we all hang on to that little hope. I think it hit my mom more so than I. My mom cried when Bonnie shaved my head. Surprisingly the shaved head wasn't oh so bad.

One thing I did notice that it was very cold! It was mid-February and very chilly! I bought my wig that day and went home. RJ called me the "Golden Child" and insisted on taking photos of me. I didn't like that at the time but I'm grateful that he did because it makes it easier to share my story.

We had many cold fronts following that day. Believe it or not, I had a very difficult time finding beanies! The Motorola Marathon whipped out all the beanies. Julia gave me one and my beloved Maria sent me two and I was forever grateful! I try not to ever complain about bad hair days anymore...I'm just glad I have hair.

Chemo: Round One

I started chemo in February of 2006. This allowed enough time for me to heal from my mastectomy. Chemo made me real nervous and even more so than surgery. Chemo would last five months and five months can either go real fast or real slow.

Round one: I was in the infusion room for over five hours. The first infusion is the most crucial. The nurses make sure you do not have a allergic reaction to the different drugs. Unfortunately, I was on the worse kind: A/C or Adramycin and Cytoxyon. They don't call it the Red Devil just for fun... I was uncertain how chemo would affect me. I was told that I would lose my hair around day 14. I would feel tired and probably sick two to three days after my infusion. Water and food may start to taste metallic.

We managed the first two to three days. Then day four arrived. I went back to work. By noon time, I thought I would faint. I felt cold, tired and dizzy. Apparently, the color must have been drained in my face because I had several coworkers and students inquire how I was feeling. I couldn't tell anyone the truth because telling them the truth meant that chemo has beaten me with only the first infusion.

What if I couldn't work for five months? What laws were there? We just bought a new house. How was I supposed to pay for my medical bill and mortgage?

Beth, my principal at the time, encouraged me to take care of myself and that they would figure something out. I had fellow teachers come up to me and said they would help with subbing, grading, tutoring, etc. I've always pride myself on being very independent and never asked for help. Looking back at it, I now realize that asking or accepting help from people that care about you is as important to you as it is for the people that are offering to help.

I left work at 4:00. I was supposed to be home around 4:00 because that was the time my mom and I agreed upon. I barely made it home that day. My commute is now 20 miles home and about 30 - 40 minutes commute in the afternoon. I reached the front door and burst into tears. I staggered into the bedroom and did not leave for several hours. I felt so cold and weak. I felt like I had no control of my life. My poor mom and RJ were concerned and didn't know what to do.

I was cold. I took my temperature and I was running a slight fever. I called my oncologist. She told me to take a Tylenol to lower my temperature and to come back in the next morning if I still wasn't feeling well.

I e-mailed my sub plans in at 5:00 that morning. RJ dropped of my mom and I early the next morning. I had about a liter of saline infused into me. During my infusion, a lady next to me had an allergic reaction to Taxol, my next chemo drug. EMS came and took her away. I was sobbing so hard that all the oncology nurses had to come and reassure me that she would be okay.

I felt better that evening and went into work the next day. I still felt weak. I remember thinking: Five more months of this?

Pain Killer

Moving into our new house early January 2006 probably helped my recovery time. I never lifted anything extremely heavy but my doctor encouraged me to stretch my right arm as much as possible. Moving light things and putting things away kept me moving and using my arm. Surprisingly the first two weeks after surgery wasn't too bad. I never even filled up my Vicoden prescription. I won't lie though, the process wasn't a piece of cake. I couldn't lift either arms above my head to get dressed and undress. Buttoned or zippered tops were my choice of tops for many weeks following my surgery. My drains were gross and I had to be very careful not to pull on it. Luckily, it was removed just a few days after.

The port for my expander and my port for my infusion gave me the most pain at that time. I went back to work about ten days post mastectomy. My chest was still very tender and the last thing I wanted to do was to have a student bump into me.

My first filling of saline for my reconstructed breast was extremely uncomfortable. My chest felt tight and it was difficult to breathe. I felt like I was going to burst and it made my chest hurt.

From that point on I started having horrible pain in my breast. It seemed as if the continued filling of saline biweekly did not help my pain. It was becoming difficult to drive my stick shift car. It hurt getting in and out of bed.

I started seeing my plastic surgeon about the pain but he told me that it was my cut nerves from the mastectomy and sent me away. I was having a miserable time at work and at home. I started taking OTC pain meds.

My mom flew in for my start of chemo. I remember the horrible pain in my chest that weekend she arrived. It got so bad that I tried to get an appointment over the weekend with my plastic surgeon but he was in Mexico. Luckily there was an on call surgeon there. I immediately liked him much more than my original one. He assured me that it was not an infection and asked me if I was taking my prescribed pain meds from my surgery. I explained to him that I never got them filled and I think that shocked him. He rewrote me a prescription for Vicoden and sent me home.

I believe I have a pretty high tolerance for pain and even more so after all this. I just recall how miserable I was from the end of January 2006 to my tragic removal of my reconstructed breast in mid March of 2006. How did my quick recovery turn out so horrible? There were nights that I got home from teaching and I was in tears because of the pain. I had to start driving RJ's automatic car because shifting in my car would bring tears to my eyes. My plastic surgeon continued to fill my reconstructed breast with saline. It got to a point where I had to ask him to not put so much in. I should have went with my gut feeling on him. There wasn't enough pain killer available to erase all the emotional hurt I experienced throughout the process of getting my reconstructed breast and losing it.

My 2006 New Year

Before:

10 inches later:

RJ and I finally came up with a plan of attack for my cancer. I would have a mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. Because I was diagnosed near the holidays, it was very difficult to coordinate a day with my beloved surgeon and my plastic surgeon. We finally decided on January 1, 2006. Okay, it is not the most ideal way to start off the new year. It did, however, buy me time. It gave me time to be with my family in Albuquerque during the holidays, get my long hair cut short to donate to Locks of Love, and allowed me time to prep for my substitute teacher. I was fortunate that Marisela Delgado was able to sub for me. Marisela is a former parent, friend and a well respected substitute. I did two weeks of lesson plans since we were uncertain of my recovery time.

We also decided to buy a house. We looked before but never found the right one or always wanted to save up more money. The diagnoses made us realize that there is no better time than the present.

January 1, 2006 is still a blur to me. I just remember walking around in the hideous puke green slipper socks and XXXL hospital gown that morning while I waited for my procedure. I remember the anesthesiologist making me sign my life away. Should I have a will in place?

Women that has had a sentinal node biopsy while awake will not soon forget it. No one warned me ahead of time that it was going to be so painful. They inject this blue dye into several points in your breast. The dye will go into the large sentinal node and hopefully show if the cancer has spread into the lymph nodes. This is very important because it helps identify the staging of the cancer and your prognosis. The injection felt like someone was grabbing my breast and twisting it several times.

I don't remember much after that. I just remember waking up like a truck ran over my chest. I could hear RJ and Craig chatting in the other room. Both sides of my breast ached. I finally remembered that I had a port put in me for my infusions. I found out later that my surgeon had to sew it onto my pectoral muscles to make it stay....no wonder it was painful on that side!

The anesthesia made me nausea and dizzy. It was hard to move my upper body and it ached all over. Morphine and I became best friends for the next two days.

RJ was my rock. He coordinated phone calls and e-mails with both our family and friends. He demanded nothing but the best and the utmost attentive care while I was there. I had a handful of friends that visited me that day and I was real touched by their compassion.

I stayed there a second night because I was experiencing so much pain and RJ was afraid that he wouldn't be able to take care of me by himself. For two nights he slept on the uncomfortable sofa next to me.

My room was filled with flowers, balloons and endless stream of visitors by the time I left. Shelley came by with solid food for me! I was on a liquid diet and that was my first solid food.

My beloved surgeon came by on my check out day and told me that my lymph nodes looked clean. Her first biopsy took care of most of my tumor. I was stage one! There's four stages and stage zero and one has the best prognosis. Stage four means it has metastasized or spread to other parts of your body. What a relief!

My surgeon and I did my unveiling of my new breast and I was amazed and how well it looked. I had a four inch scar across my chest but it still looked like a "breast" was there.

I left the hospital with RJ and we headed to the bank and loan office. We needed to seal the deal on the new house. I had drains attached to my zipped up workout suit and I was still highly medicated. Either way, I signed about thirty sheets of paper. All this and we were only three days into 2006.

To hell and back with my insurance company

I'm through with most of my treatment but I continue to deal with my insurance company. I have a feeling all survivors will have this same problem. Once you have been diagnosed with a disease, you're marked for life.

It's so ironic for me. Haven't we been through enough? I've had my breast removed, chemotherapy where I lost my hair and my body aged ten years, lost my reconstructed breast due to an infection, was thrown into premature menopause, may or may not be fertile, gained almost twenty pounds due to my medication, and have to go under the knife for a second attempt on having reconstruction? Apparently not.

I find those that work for insurance companies are mainly incompetent. I can call them five times and get five different answers. The scary thing is the wrong answer can cost us hundreds and thousands of dollars. Each medication and procedure is not cheap.

It's mid October and I've been dealing with my insurance company concerning my medication since August 3, 2007. They are in the wrong. They gave me the wrong information but there's nothing they can do about it now. I can do a formal complaint. Does it take a formal legal team for them to start paying attention to "the little people?"

I am eagerly waiting to max out my out of pocket. It isn't a small amount but unfortunately it won't take long to meet my maximum. I plan on getting myself thoroughly checked out from head to toe.

Cancer did not beat me. I will not allow my insurance company to beat me either. I had an emotional set back today and lost it due to frustration. I will live and learn from my five plus hours on the phone to try to rectify this situation that is not situated at all. It will come out of my pocket. They will not be held accountable. They may be. I need to decide how much time and energy I want to spend on this.

Unfortunately, I need my insurance. Too bad the thing we need most is the one thing that causes us so much stress and anguish.

My Second Family

You quickly learn how people deal with tribulations. I had some friends that were absolutely amazing. My coworkers/friends offered to take off work to go to my gazillion appointments. Cards, flowers, prayers and pink ribbon gifts poured in from friend and strangers. The little random acts of kindness will go a long way. Friends would send me little inspirational gifts through our school mail and it always made my day. Liz and Craig would always leave thoughtful gifts near our front door. This list continued on and on. Then there was Nick. I felt as if I took care of him for the first two years that we taught together. Ultimately, he carried me that school year that I was diagnosed.

I also had some friends that did not know what to do. Some people do not deal with change well. I do not begrudge any of these friends because I hope they were doing the best that they knew how. I knew that RJ had to deal with many disappointments too. Cancer and death isn't a hot topic during happy hour or a night out with the boys.

There are no guarantees in life

I was going to put off writing about mortality until later but my near death car accident today, October 1, 2007, on 183 going Southbound is still fresh in my head. I should be in the morgue or in the ER right now and not blogging. I never made it to work. I came home after my accident. I am still in shock. I don't know how I managed to escape or cheat death today. Besides being clipped, I should have had a major impact. Maybe it is karma. Maybe I have a guardian angel. My car is virtually fine. Physically I'm fine.

Of course I was afraid that I wouldn't beat cancer. I believe all cancer patients feel that at one point in their lives when they become diagnosed. I was only 28. My little nephew Ryan was only three. What about my friends? What about the rest of my family? What about my students? What about RJ? What about me????

There are no guarantees in life. I always knew that but spinning 180 degrees across four lanes on an interstate makes it much more real today. I recall reading stories about other BC survivors. Many were diagnosed in the later stages and were in much more difficult situations. I also remember seeing a little girl in American Eagle. She had a bandanna on and you knew she was undergoing chemo treatment. The little girl could not have been older than nine. These stories always made me realize that I'm somewhat "lucky" because I might get to escape death a little longer.

It is all about carpe diem. Cancer can be scary. Surgery, chemo, and life's uncertainty is scary. The ironic thing is that a car accident could have claimed my life today and not cancer. I have resolved to fight even harder to kick cancer's ass and to do good in this world. Don't be afraid to live or die because nothing is guaranteed.