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Archive for the ‘lymphedema’ Category

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I was called into the Healing Garden at Dana-Farber today. Not literally, but something beckoned me to go through those doors, although I haven’t been since my very first visit to this facility last March. And the second I walked in and felt the peacefulness wash over me, between the lush garden, sweet scent of greenery, subtle lighting and bird musac in the background, the floodgates opened. Clearly I don’t mesh well with relaxing and peacefulness – another thing I need to work on.

I know it was – is, as I’m still sitting here amongst the flowers and the tears writing this blog entry on my iPhone – more than that, though. It is remembering that first time here, how scared and clueless I was about what really lay ahead. It is mourning the person I was before I stepped through these doors. It is the wondering about the different path my life could’ve taken if I hadn’t discovered that lump – and the people that may’ve still been in it – for better or worse. And sitting here, looking through the bamboo branches, out the window at the hospital across the street where we kept vigil for days and then lost my grandfather, in the midst of it all, just 8 months ago. It is the fact that this is the last time I will be here (barring any more lymphedema flair ups) for four whole months. And while that is something to celebrate – as is finally being ‘even’ again after today’s procedure (which really hurts but is worth it) – it is also hard. As change always is, even when it’s for the better.

But I will adjust. I am still struggling to figure out who this post-treatment me is. And I will get there. Maybe I just need a little more time in some healing gardens…

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I can’t believe I only have two more days of radiation left. I go in Monday and Tuesday mornings and that is the last of my daily visits to Dana-Farber! It’s become such a way of life, it will be strange not to be there every day. Of course I won’t be able to miss it really, as I will be there for physical therapy in a couple of weeks, and then for the re-expanding soon after that. And then it will really be the lymphedema that dictates how much I am there until the implant surgery this summer.

On the lymphedema front, so far, so good. The overall volume in my arm hasn’t changed, it’s just that it is pooling around my wrist, so I need to give that area a bit more attention when doing the daily lymphatic massage. But overall it’s not getting worse, and I am allowed to stop wearing it (except for when running  and doing other exercise, including major housework – ha!)  beginning next week. I just need to keep track of how it is feeling and looking so we can see if there’s a pattern to any changes. And, of course, go back for the check-up in a couple of weeks and if it gets worse. A good friend of mine who has been cancer-free for five years is now experiencing much worse lymphedema, and that does worry me, but all I can do is take it one day at a time and try to manage it the best I can.

For now, I think I’m doing pretty darn well. The radiation has gone as well as can be expected. When Dr. W looked at my breast the other day (she checks it once a week), and saw how red, raw and peeling it was, she said that it is normal to even a bit better than normal for this point in the treatment. And I thank God every day (multiple times a day) when I put ointment on it and under my arm and my chest (the radiation is done in a pretty big square, just with more concentration on my breast and lymph nodes area) that I can’t feel anything in that area. It’s one highlight of no longer having any sensation in my chest. It looks really, really painful, though – like your worst raw, peeling sunburn. I do have some discomfort, a bit under my arm and chest, but nothing like it would be if I had all the feeling, thank goodness. Interestingly, it’s as if the scar has kind of peeled away with it, too. Not that it matters, though, since I’ll be sliced open in the same places for the implant surgery. Oh well.

And yes, I am feeling the other major side effect, which is extreme exhaustion. Here it is noon on Saturday and where am I? Still in bed, with my lap top, writing this. I am going to drag myself up and out for a run (how can I pass up running outside in this relative warmth???), but am not pushing myself this weekend. Almost every night after work I’ve wanted to simply go home and crawl into bed, and that is just not me. But it should get better after next week. After all, I can do anything just two more times, right?

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When I told Tina that I was having my port removed, she said, “Oh, you’re being deported?” and we both burst into hysterical laughter. I thank God every day for my close friends and family who have kept me smiling and laughing through this miserable journey. I’m choosing to see the removal of the port today as nearing the end, at least the end of the daily part of the treatment. After January 15, other than taking tamoxifen and my PT exercises, there won’t be anything I have to do on a regular basis (unless the damned Lymphedema gets out of control, which I’m not going to let happen, or if the cancer comes back and I’m not even entertaining that thought right now). Then just a few surgeries and a few years of pills – which is nothing in comparison!

Today went well. Mom stayed over so her and Nick got up with me at the crack of dawn (actually, it may have been pre-dawn…) to take me to Dana-Farber so I could be the first person on the radiation table before moving to the OR for the port removal. Both were quick and as easy as could be. We came home and napped, and then I assured mom I was fine and she headed home. After all, I was just hanging on the couch, and am perfectly able to get up and get anything I need – I’m just not supposed to drive or do any heavy lifting.

Of course, after mom left and Nick went to work, I had a few Diet Cokes… and I realized that mom wasn’t just here to help me do things, but to prevent me from doing things! The soda made me jittery and full of energy, so up I hopped, running around the apartment cleaning this, putting that away, sorting these… and then my arm (specifically the wound where the port was taken out) started to ache. Uh oh. Now I’m remembering how they warned me not to do things so I don’t pull the stitches. Ugh. Sorry…

So to get a little more of the energy out without hurting myself more, I sat down to write this. Luckily, Tara is on her way here and we’re going to see a movie. I don’t think I can do much damage there…

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