Infusion Day 1

Well, that was boring.

Thankfully!!!

As you know, IT'S MUH BIRTHDAY... so the kids had to get up and give me presents before I left the house this morning. And of course, I wore my tiara, my kitty sweater and my rainbow unikitty socks to the infusion center.

Here I am in the infusion room with
my tiara, Gary Purry and my IV pole,
(which I've affectionately named Tim)
poking out over the top like some kind of party favor.

Rainbow unikitty socks!
They're upside down from my perspective,
but trust me. They're awesome.

 I got this pretty new smart watch that is significantly larger than my old step counter, (I was actually wearing both in this picture), and is definitely of Asian origin of some sort, so wading through the broken English in the user manual, and set up guide was a little tricky, but I had plenty of time on my hands today... LITERALLY! Har, har!

I knew this was what I was getting, and
I picked it out because I think it's pretty.
Hope it doesn't suck. 

Last night, Matt said, "What time do we have to be there tomorrow?" I said, "I think 9:45," then checked my calendar which said 9:30. This morning, I checked the revised schedule they sent me in the mail, which I clearly have not updated in my calendar, and we were supposed to be there at 8. It was 9:15.

Wonder if I can set my new watch to "don't be a doofus" mode?

Anyway, I got there an hour and a half late, but they weren't mad or anything. Oncology nurses are the best. I will be doing infusions on the 3rd floor instead of the 2nd floor of the Prairie Center this time around, which is laid out the same, but the unit is a little smaller. I will be with the Gynocological cancer patients. I think they're really full on second floor.

They ran the Perjeta (diarrhea drug) first, for about an hour, then waited a half hour and did Herceptin for 1 1/2 hours, then gave me an oral Benadryl and an IV steriod and IV anti-nausea drug and started icing my fingers and toes, these are all precautionary drugs for the systemic chemo called Taxol. It's a gentler drug and a lower dose than the Taxotere I got before, but can cause an allergic reaction the first time or two that they administer it. The ice is to help keep the medicine from going to my extremities and help avoid neuropathy. Then after they finish the Taxotere infusion, they flush good with some extra saline before taking me off the ice. BOY did I have to pee when that was all over (about an hour total).

Today was the longest infusion day. The next two weeks are scheduled to be Taxol only, the other two will be given every 3rd week. And after this, they will push the drugs a little faster. So I'll be done by noon most weeks. Psh! Easy!

I have to say, I'm feeling fine. (Thanks steroids!) I think we're going to go out for supper to celebrate my birthday, and try to decorate for Christmas tomorrow. We'll see if I hit the wall sometime soon. I'll just keep bopping along until I do. They said the explosive and unpredictable diarrhea is ... well, unpredictable. But sometimes takes up to 3 weeks to kick in. I shall be carrying Immodium with me at all times.

I came home to no less than a dozen birthday cards/ thinking of you cards in the mail. Including a very generous check and a grocery gift card. We will be able to pay off our first big bill this week! Yay! So grateful!

I also received this necklace from my cousin Siobhan in Washington state. She has been so thoughtful and supportive both times I've been through this.

Well, you can't see it, but it's got a
treble clef, a music note and a heart charm
all on a delicate little silver chain. So pretty!

I'm feeling a LOT better about things now. I may feel differently come Sunday or Monday, but today things are good.

Oh, I have an amusing story for you. Yesterday for Thanksgiving, we celebrated at Matt's sister Rena's house, between Beresford and Centerville. Guests included Matt & Rena's mom and dad- Bruce and George, Re's daughter Lexi, our two kids, and Rena's husband Matt's two kids and his mom.  (Yes, Matt's sister married a man named Matt. It's all good. We like him a lot.)

We ate our big meal at noon, and everyone was ready to hit to road for home around 3:30 or so. I talked my family into going Christmas tree hunting... in my mom's attic in Yankton. They have GOBS of Christmas decorations in SD that go unused every year because they're in AZ by Christmastime. So, we added 2.5 hours of drive time and went and picked up some pencil trees to use in our basement living room. The only stipulation Mom had was that we had to take the decorations too.

Hopefully we can do the rest of the house tomorrow. Matt's in charge of outside lights this year. I have cancer as an excuse!

Happy Thanksgiving/ my birthday everyone. Thanks for all the love!!!

Surprise!!!

I got the results of my bone biopsy today. Guess who has two thumbs and no cancer in her bones!

I truly was braced and already resigned to the worst news on this front. But you know what this means... I can beat this! Let me rephrase that. We can beat this, because without my army of support and hundreds of prayer warriors, I would never be able to do this on my own. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to all of you for your love and prayers.

I've been wearing my tiara this week because, obviously, it's my birthday week. But now I can't stop smiling. It's going to be a happy birthday after all.

Photo from last weekend's family photo shoot.
Credit Brianne Cowan

Wait a minute, so what is wrong with your bones?

Well, I don't know. They biopsied the largest lesion on my sacrum, and they were very careful to get the sample from the affected area. Dr. Krie says maybe they missed, but I doubt it (of course, I slept through the whole thing, what do I know?) I guess some people have benign lesions and they're no big deal. The problem with doing full body scans is that they find all kinds of things that are abnormal in your body, but aren't necessarily dangerous. They will probably keep an eye on them, and I'm sure I'll have to up my calcium intake. I'm not taking up running, that's for sure.


What does this mean as far as treatment?

Now we're back to the harder option. Still the same 12-18 weeks of low-dose chemo starting on Friday, followed by 8 weeks of higher dose chemo every other week, then surgery on the lymph nodes and ovaries removed, then radiation, and some kind of endocrine therapy pill. I should be back up and running by the beginning of fall semester.

That still sucks, but there is an end in sight.

Change of Plans...

Update number... whatever, I don't even know. Numbers are hard.

This has been the week where I go to the Avera medical complex every day. I had my port placement surgery on Monday morning at 7:30 am. It was quick and easy, and they had us leaving the hospital by 8 am. No intubation, just a heavy IV sedation. I got a nausea patch, which mostly just made me really thirsty and gave me a sore throat.

I went home, watched a movie on Netflix, took a nap, ate some lunch, then went back to work at 2:30, taught a short handful of lessons (if I rest my left elbow on my knee, I can still use my arm to play piano!), then sat through a student recital hour. Really hard not to fall asleep when on the pain meds! I had a rehearsal that evening that was challenging because my throat was sore in an acid-reflux-y kind of way. (Fine the next day)

Tuesday,  I woke up feeling a little stiff in my surgery area, but used no pain meds. Didn't hurt that bad. Just had to baby my left arm. I taught a couple lessons in the morning, then went and had my first MRI (Spine) and an Echocardiogram. Then I went home and taught a few more lessons, took Maia to school for a play that she's on the tech team for, and participated in a creative service planning team meeting for church.

Wednesday, I got to start the day with another MRI, this one on the abdomen and pelvis. They used my new port for the contrast dye. Worked like a charm, and I didn't even feel the needle poke, just the pressure of pushing on the port against my tender chest wall. I got to listen to music for this MRI (the other one, I only got earplugs, so I worked on the "Steel Magnolia" lines I could remember), and I had breathing instructions for this one. Turns out, I'm really good at breathing and laying still. We've all got gifts. This contrast dye did not make me vomit, but my chest and neck are slightly rashy today. I'm guessing this is a weird reaction to the contrast.

After the MRI, I taught lessons from 10:30-5:30, then hosted small group, and skipped church choir to go to the play at USF because I was sure I wouldn't be able to go any other night. Bad night to skip choir! They loaded Matt up with freezer meals for our family! How kind! I love our new church at Asbury!

This morning (Thursday), I REMEMBERED my appointment with Dr. Krie, my oncologist, so I did my hair and makeup and looked nice to make up for last time. (She said, "That's more like it...") I told her not to make me cry again, because I wouldn't have time to fix it before work.

She had the test results. Here's the good news: Suspicious spots on liver are for sure cysts, and nothing to worry about.

Bad news: The bones are not so good. This is what the report says:

IMPRESSION: There are multiple T1 hypointense lesions involving most thoracic vertebral bodies as well as the C7 vertebral body. Several lesions demonstrate enhancement and T2 hyperintense signal. Several lesions demonstrate peripheral T1 hyperintense signal and T1 hyperintense enhancement. Additional lesions are demonstrated throughout the lumbar spine and within the sacrum. Several demonstrate sclerosis on comparison CT examinations. Finding are most suspicious for metastasis.

The thoracic cord is normal in signal intensity. There is no abnormal enhancement of the cord.

So it looks like it's in my spine. From C7 (bottom of neck) all the way down to the sacrum. But not in my spinal cord.

Woof. This changes things.

She is pleased to not see it in the liver. Let's remember that.

She wants a bone biopsy before we start chemo, so we got one scheduled for tomorrow (Friday) afternoon. She insists on seeing cancer cells under a microscope before treatment. But this report gives every indication that it will be cancer. I will find out the results on Monday afternoon. One thing they will check for is whether it has the same markers as my breast cancer or if it is a different one altogether.

So I will still go in for labs and chemo education tomorrow morning, but instead of starting chemo, I will have a bone biopsy.  Probably in the sacrum because there is no spinal cord there. This sounds horrible. I am requesting as much sedation as they will give me. Maybe I can just go to sleep and wake up with a sore back. 

Chemo starts the same way, whatever the results are, but we will now start on Friday, November 23. Can anyone tell me what's important about that day? That's right. It's my 47th birthday. I plan to wear my tiara and be treated like a queen. Gifts accepted.

It's my birthday. Fix me.

The regimen will be 12-18 weeks of low-dose chemo with a combination of Taxol, Herceptin and Perjeta. Taxol will be given every week, Herceptin and Perjeta once every 3 weeks. 

They have found that immersing the fingers and toes in ice water during infusions significantly lessons the occurrence of neuropathy and improves nail health, so I won't be getting much work done on my laptop on treatment days. Sigh...Netflix it is!

Assuming that the spine has cancer, I will no longer have to do the more aggressive AC chemo after these 12-18 weeks. I will move to Herceptin/ Perjeta once every 3 weeks for at least 2 years which have less side effects. But hey! I won't be dealing with the unknown of a new chemo regimen right when "Steel Magnolias" opens. :) 

They will still yank my ovaries (probably in the summer sometime), and will put me on an aromatase inhibitor, which blocks estrogen from the other two sources in the body: adrenal gland and fat cells. This means permanent chemically induced menopause. I like that the hot flashes will start in the winter. (I literally ALWAYS look for the bright side).

There is every indication that I will easily get another 5 years of quality living out of this treatment, and there are new advances being made every day. The study that proves its effectiveness is called the Cleopatra Trial. I have no idea why, but I love it! That woman was fierce!  I told Dr. Krie I might have to get a special wig in honor of that awesome name.

I will still lose my hair during that first 12-18 weeks. There is an option called Dignicap that ices your scalp during treatments (same basic concept as icing the fingers and toes). But you can't style your hair, blow dry, even barely comb it the whole time you're in treatment. Basically, I'd have bad hair days for like 3 months. I'm not about that life. I asked if I would get a new wig, and she said yes. You never have bad hair days with wigs.

Many of you know that Matt & I have been trying to follow the Keto diet. He's better at it than me, but I got serious about it after diagnosis, so I asked her about it and she says she supports it, but maybe just restrict carbs and add in fruits during the 12-18 weeks of chemo because the body can't really handle both ketosis and Taxol. We would be so grateful to anyone bringing meals if you would keep carbs to a minimum.

And exercise would be good, but no pavement pounding (Ha! As if!). Yoga is a great idea. Both this diet and gentle exercise will decrease inflammation, and that is a great idea when fighting cancer.

I'm surprisingly calm about all this. Thank you to everyone who has been praying for us this week. You are helping us in ways we can't explain, but it makes a difference.

The Plan

(Nov. 8)

So, I got my schedule for the next week on Thursday morning.

Monday, Nov. 12: Port placement surgery. This is a quick, outpatient procedure, and I will actually return to work in the afternoon. Because I'm crazy people.

Tuesday, Nov. 13: MRI on pelvis and abdomen, Echocardiogram.

Wednesday, Nov. 14: MRI on spine. (I don't know why they can't take pictures of both things at the same time, but lucky me! I get to lay in a tube while someone bangs a hammer on the outside and shoots lasers at me from 1968. Twice.)

Thursday, Nov. 15: Test results. Praying again for clean scans. I'm living under the assumption that they will be.

Friday, Nov. 16: Chemo education, then start chemo.

What the next few months look like: 

I have already given notice from teaching private lessons at O'Gorman (11 students). I had my last day on Thursday.  I will probably finish the month with home studio (8 students), and I will soldier through the last 4 weeks of the semester at USF (25 students). I will still do my end-of semester cabaret recital with them. I also still plan to do the Good Night Theatre Happy Holidays Cabaret on Dec. 13-14.

Chemo on Fridays means my second treatment will be on my birthday. Aw, how sweet. At least they treat you really nice at the Cancer Center. And they always ask your birthday before they start dumping poison in your veins. I shall, of course, wear my birthday tiara that day.

I will get a feel for the rhythm of days that feel good and bad over the next few weeks. I will probably take advantage of the acupuncture offered at the Prairie Center (not cheap, but it really helped with the gastro problems last time.) One nice thing about starting before the holidays is that I will have a solid 8 weeks off between fall and spring semesters, which will get me 2/3 of the way through the first round of chemo. It's hard to say what I will feel like in the spring. I may take fewer students, or the full load at USF only.  The biggest challenge that I can foresee is that Steel Magnolias runs the 2nd and 3rd weeks of March, which will coincide with the last two big chemo treatments. Chemo's side effects are cumulative, so I'll feel pretty gross by then. But I just can't give up playing the role of Truvy! (And hey, I'll have fun with some outrageous wigs)

I was pretty shook up on Wednesday, (so sorry to my parents and work friends) but now that I've had a few days to think things over, and know what the schedule is, I guess it's time to suit up for battle.

One of my sweet middle school students gave this watercolor to me, with the words, "Um, sorry about your cancer." (my heart!)

I guess since I know my tongue will taste like cardboard for the next 5 months, this week is my personal mardi gras. Matt's birthday gift to me is a family photo shoot on Sunday afternoon before I loose my hair. Xander is home for the weekend. It's cold outside, but it's cozy warm in here.

Scan Results

Update #4 (Nov. 7)

OK, so it turns out, I suck at details (this comes as no surprise to those who are closest to me). I had an appointment with Dr. Krie (oncologist) this morning scheduled for 7:45 am, but I remembered wrong when Dr. Dosch (surgeon) called me last week and told me I had cancer and some appointments coming up. Or maybe it was his nurse Amanda who called me about the appointments. Either way, I put the appointment in my calendar for this morning, then later moved it to next week because I thought I had remembered wrong. Ugh!

Well, the point is, I got my test results this morning. Which was sooner than I was expecting, but better than having to wait 6 days. Also, I had to rush over there really fast without finishing my morning ablutions. (I'll come back to this)

Sorry. I'm killing you with stupid details. Get to the point, girl!!!

I met with my oncologist, Dr. Amy Krie this morning, and it turns out I really do have cancer. (I am pretty sure I've blogged these words before...) And I don't get to have my way with treatment. Chemo is in my future. And lots of it. When she walked in the room, I said, "Did you miss me?"

You know, because I'm funny.

Here's the good news: Our prayers for containment were answered. On the PET scan, the only glowing parts- which indicate where glucose is extra present- were the normal places; the brain, and anywhere where urine is present, so the bladder and the kidneys- and the right armpit, axillary lymph node area. So that is what we hoped!

The CT scan picked up a few shadowy places that they want to test some more on my liver and in my spine. I will be having an MRI soon to check those further. The spots on my liver give every indication of being cysts, which are no big deal. People live symptom free with liver cysts all the time. The spots in my spine are so small, she's not sure she can get a read on what they are, even if I were to have a biopsy (Ugh! No thank you on that one!) So MOST LIKELY, we are looking at a localized recurrence.

Next steps: 
MRI soon. I don't have a date. Again, praying they don't find anything in the bones or liver, but let's be honest. I think they're grasping at straws here. Dr. Krie said this is why full body scans can be so frustrating. Because we all have weird stuff floating around that we live with our whole lives and never have problems.

Echocardiogram shortly thereafter. Chemo is really hard on the heart. They monitor its health throughout treatment.

Port Placement. This is a quick, outpatient surgery to put in a new port. I had one before, so there is a lot of scar tissue there. Not sure how that's going to work, but I imagine when I meet with Dr. Dosch on Monday, I'll find out.

Start chemo. Probably around Thanksgiving or the first part of December. (Happy birthday to me). Last time, I received 3 chemo drugs: Taxotere, Carboplatin and Herceptin, once every 3 weeks. 6 doses for a total of 18 weeks. I actually got the Herceptin once a week during those 18 weeks, then once every 3 weeks for the following year.

This time, chemo will be more frequent and a slightly different cocktail. Still includes the Herceptin, which targets the HER2 receptors on cancer cells and doesn't have too bad of side effects, plus a similar one called Perjeta, which works some the same way. All she wrote next to that one is "diarrhea." Awesome. The third one is Taxol, which is different from Taxotere, which I had before, but is a systemic chemo that will make my hair fall out. Again. At least I have cool wigs. Maybe I can score another one!

I will get this cocktail once a week for 12 weeks. So basically, I'll feel like shit the whole time. Awesome.

After 12 weeks of low-dose chemo, they amp it up to a harder cocktail of Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide every other week for 8 weeks, so 4 doses. 

Then I get a little 4 week break to recover before going to surgery to remove the affected lymph nodes. The tumor should be completely gone by then, and I don't fully understand why they don't just remove the tumor first. I hate having it in me. Another thing I will ask Dr. Dosch on Monday.

Then I get radiation. 

Then I go back on Tamoxifen (which she told me to stop today) for another 5 years, and they do a surgery to remove my ovaries. 

Meanwhile, I will get to do a whole year of Herceptin and Perjeta infusions. 

As you can imagine, this was a lot to take in this morning, and I cried a lot. You guys, I don't want to do chemo again. I'm a whimp, and I hate being sick. I want to be Wonder Woman and take on the world, and stay active and say yes to things that sound like fun. And what about my students?! Who will teach the world to sing if I do not?! I have plans. I have committed to things way down the road! 

And this is me ON anxiety meds.

I am going to have to disappoint some people. 

Anyway, I looked like hell after all the crying. I told Dr. Krie that it was good that I hadn't quite gotten around to my makeup before going in. "Just so you know, this is the 'before' picture." 

She laughed and said, "I'm just relieved to find out you don't look perfect all the time." 

I was like, "I woke up like this." 

Like this, but instead of an over all blue hue, it was
much redder, and I have better hair. For now.

I was a hot mess as we were getting ready to leave the consult room. I tried to pull myself together. After all, there were people in the waiting area who would soon be learning some awful news like I just did. Try to put on a brave face! Thankfully, I had a pair of sunglasses in my purse. 

Scan Day

Update #2: Scan day (November 6)

Matt & I went in to the Avera Cancer Institute to check in for my PET CAT scans this morning around 9:45 am. Turns out the reason these tests take so long is there is a lot of waiting. They took me back to a little room with a nice cozy heated recliner and gave me a warm blanket while they checked my blood glucose level (Normal! Yay! Sometimes my sugars are weird) and started an IV. They apparently pumped me up with radioactive something or other (and I never even experienced any Spidey Sense. Movies are so misleading), then they let me chill for about 45 minutes while it worked into my system. I had left my phone with Matt in the lobby, so I just took a nap to the soothing sounds of 80's pop music (Xanadu!). I did get to watch the window washers rappel by and clean my window, so that was cool. FYI, they don't dress like super heroes at the grown-up hospital. 😒

Then I went in for the PET scan, which covered "nose to knees" (I remembered or was told wrong last week). This is not a bad test to have done. They put me on a nice flat gurney thing that gently moved in and out of this tube of white with rings of lights that reminded me of the O'Hare airport for some reason. I thought, "This is much more sci-fi and futuristic than those archaic MRI machines that sound like someone's banging on it with a hammer and shooting Buck Rogers lasers." Much more Star Trek in nature. The future of medicine, ladies and gentlemen.

After that, we moved on to the CT scan. This was a scan of just my abdominal area, liver in particular. I had to drink 32 oz of water before this test, which I did during the 45 minutes of waiting for the first test. I laid down on a similar looking contraption, though the tube was not as long. More like an enclosed hula hoop or a big mechanical floaty. This one had breathing instructions. The machine would tell me to "breathe in," "hold your breath" and "breathe" while it went through all its maneuvers. I don't know how their pictures don't turn out all blurry. The hula hoop was spinning away while I was holding my breath. Hope it has a fast shutter speed! 😉

I held my arms up and over my head for this one. They had to run a contrast iodine solution into my IV at one point and warned me that I would get a warm, hot flash sensation that might make me feel like I need to pee, but that it would pass. Let me tell you, I've experienced hot flashes before... this was not what this felt like! I felt it going into my arm, pooling in my clavicle area, then shooting down my midline and up into my tongue. I didn't feel like I had to go pee, I felt all warm and wet like I had already peed! (I hadn't. I asked) Unfortunately, the warming sensation made my mouth start watering, and not in the "I'm hungry for popcorn" way. More in the "Uh oh! This is what happens right before I puke" kind of way. 🤢

Yup, I puked. 🤮The techs were pretty Johnny on the spot though and caught most of it before I ruined my outfit. Nobody likes puking, especially when laying on their backs. I guess this is barf #1 for this round of cancer. I felt better immediately, and they checked for allergic reactions, but couldn't see any evidence. I just have a weak stomach. Also, one of the techs complimented my eye shadow AFTER I vomited. Good, I think?

Anyway, I thought that the graphic on the CT machine was kind of amusing. I sort of recreated it in the above picture. When you were allowed to breathe normally, the green face was on, when you had to hold your breath, the orange face was lit up. At first I looked at it and wondered if it was a warning that the patient was about to puke. Turns out, might have been a handy warning!

I was done an hour earlier than anticipated, so Matt & I had lunch at the counter downstairs.

Much thanks to Stacy Readd Dixon who came to keep Matt company in the waiting room, and to all my students who rescheduled their lessons for Friday this week.

We don't think we'll know results until Monday. I have an appointment with Dr. Dosch (surgeon) at 3:45, and I assume that's when we'll find out if it has spread at all. Thanks for all the prayers and positive vibes! You all are wonderful!

Physical therapy/ Lymphedema

Update #1: (Wednesday, Oct. 31)

I started out at Physical Therapy this morning, looking to get some education about how to avoid lymphedema once they remove some more lymph nodes from my right arm. I had a very good educator in Paula, (who has something seriously wrong with her voice, but I didn't mention it). She said I can use my bike arm warmers as a lymphedema sleeve if I sense any swelling, but she wants me to get a glove too, so the swelling won't go into my hand. Here are some pictures of the things I'll use as needed in the future. There are some fun options out there. Clearly, I'm not the first fashionista to have lymphedema. ;) There's even a brand called LympheDIVA. Hahaha!

The top picture is a pretty close  representation of the bike
arm warmers I already have. The bottom picture is the
pattern I got for the glove. It is actually called a gauntlet
and will enclose my hand up to my knuckles and my thumb.
No fingers.

I went to work, but before my first student, I called the surgeon's office I've been dealing with to politely ask them to hurry the heck up. I got a call back from the nurse who gave me my schedule for the next couple of weeks.

Tuesday, Nov. 6 (election day... have to fit voting in somewhere)- I will go in on an empty stomach for a PET scan of my abdomen to specifically look at my liver. (This one is huge. Please pray that the liver is clear of any evidence of cancer) Then I will NOT eat lunch, and go to a CAT scan. (Hey, I have a Pet Cat! ...Focus, Amy.) The CAT scan will look at my whole entire body and see if it finds anything interesting to report. (Again, praying it is not found in bones or organs.)

I will find out results and surgical plan on Monday, Nov. 12 in the late afternoon, then will speak to my oncologist on Wednesday morning to see if she's going to make me do chemo and/or radiation.

I have the same team as I've always had, Dr. Dosch as my surgeon, and Dr. Krie as my oncologist. I trust them completely. I just thought I was done with them.

Here We Go Again

It turns out, I'm an attention hog, and I must not be getting enough.
This is my Facebook post from Oct. 29.

Remember how I graduated from the cancer center last month?  Well, I guess I'm going back. Last week, I developed a lump in my right armpit- it started as a strange stiffness that I thought maybe was lymphedema about 2 weeks ago- well, it progressed to a lump and it grew really fast. So Friday afternoon I had an ultrasound and a biopsy done, and today I got the unwelcome news that there were breast cancer cells in the biopsy. There was one very enlarged lymph node and a second that was looking weird.

The next step is a full body scan to find out if it has progressed to any other parts of my body. It is REALLY important that this scan comes back to show that it is completely localized. I can't even begin to think about what it means if I have it anywhere else. So that's where I'm asking all prayers to be centered right now. Hopefully that scan will be scheduled in the next few days. They will for sure do surgery before Thanksgiving to remove a whole section of lymph nodes, which puts me at a greater risk for lymphedema for the rest of my life. :/ Blech.

That's all I know for now. I would appreciate prayers for peace (anxiety is skyrocketing right now), for my kids, Xander & Maia and my husband Matt. My mom (Marilyn ) and step-dad (James R Lofflin) left to snow-bird in Arizona on Saturday. My dad (David Eitemiller) has his hands full caring for my step-mother full time. This is really hard for everyone around me because we all feel so helpless.

I'll fill you all in as I know more. You know I don't keep this stuff to myself. Writing about it helps me process my feelings, and I like the attention er... love and support. ;)

This song is my anthem right now. "Take courage, my heart. Be steadfast, my soul. He's in the waiting." The not-knowing is the hardest part. We'll get through this. Just wish we didn't have to.