Bigger is Better

Today is the big day. I’m sure that thinking about it is much worse than the actual experience, I’m hoping anyway.  I picked out my implant yesterday but it will be several months before it goes in.  I’ll get an expander today after they remove the breast.  I’ve got to go I don’t want to think about it right now.  

I am High Maintenance:

How many doctors does Linda need?

1.     One Radiologist to tell me “We're happy to tell you your mammogram is normal.”
2.  Another Radiologist to tell me “looks like cancer to me”

3.    A Gynecologist to tell me I might have cancer
4.     One surgeon to take off my breast
5.     Another surgeon to put a new one on
6.     A neurologist to tell the surgeons that surgery won’t fry my brain and give me another stroke
7.     A cardiologist that can’t tell me anything
8.  A another cardiologist to make me run on a treadmill and proclaim to the surgeons that I might not die              of a broken heart while they cut off my breast

9.     An Internist to make sure my blood is not too thick, or too thin, it’s got to be just right.     
10.  An oncologist to tell me ”See you after they cut the cancer out and I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back for more of your spare parts” I like this guy.
11.  A hospital administrator who doesn’t practice anymore but makes sure:
a.     I’m  not going to die of a broken heart or fried brain in her hospital
b.     I have enough money to pay for everything the insurance company doesn’t.
12. Oops I forgot the Hematologist for the genetic mutation I have. 

Yes in case you want to know I am descended from aliens.

Surgery is scheduled for this Thursday. It's ok to laugh I am trying to be funny. 

I am a Benevolent Hedonist

The selfish reason I love Theo is that he makes me a better person. When I was young I was very hedonistic. My goal seeking was mostly about perusing things that made me feel good; praise at work, disco dancing, smoking, drinking and sex. Luckily for me drugs were never my thing; I’m too much of a control freak. I reluctantly gave up disco for rock and roll, but I just couldn’t dance to it. In my egotistical defense I always tried to make sure I did not hurt anyone in the process. I am a benevolent hedonist.

I did not want people to connect to me for very long. It is much easier to be an interesting and exciting person in short bursts than it is for the long haul. I am very comfortable by myself and I have to work at being extroverted. It’s hard to explain. I care and I do feel a sense of compassion and love for others but I have to remind myself to express it. It’s hard to get my attention but once you do I am willing to let you in.

When left to my own devices I’m actually kind of spacey. I like metaphysical thought and mentally hanging out in the ethereal world. Theo keeps me grounded in a beautiful loving way to this material world. He reminds me to express love in a tangible way, a way that affects other people’s lives and mine.

Being together for over 25 years really is not that difficult. Yes we have difficulties at times and people reinvent themselves as they mature and learn, but whenever we seem to be taking different paths we see it and are able to blaze a new one together. Sometimes we need heavy equipment to plow though it and sometimes just a gentle pushing away of the undergrowth.

Theo I love you big much. Every day is our Valentine’s Day.

Privacy is overrated.

My original intent was to be private about this.


I blamed myself for being sick, guilty of not making all the healthy life choices I know I should have made my whole life. After all I know better, no excuses. I was surprised to learn that healthy physically fit people get cancer too, but I still feel responsible for my illness.

Sanford is a small town and everyone knows us so keeping this private was not possible. My plan was to disappear for a few months and come back thinner, with bigger boobs and a new hair style letting everyone gossip about my “plastic surgery”. No such luck.

Just the simple meaningless greeting of “How are you?” would set me on a crying spell. The worst was when someone would get half way through the question and catch themselves and get the “look”. The “oh crap” she’s got cancer “look”, I shouldn’t ask her that question.

People are not afraid of asking the question they are afraid of the answer. Most of the time the answer is “fine” and we are happy. The discomfort comes when the answer is, “I’m afraid.” This is the most disturbing feeling for me right now. If you know me, you know that fear is something I do not usually experience. I believed that I can do anything I set my mind on. Now I’m not so sure.

Getting over my embarrassment of being ill has helped me to feel stronger, allowing people to care about me was uncomfortable at first but now it is a source of comfort. My advice is to let people help you when you need it, it’s not just a benefit to you it gives purpose and comfort to the person that helped you.

Courage and Strength for me comes from you and all the people that are willing to hear me say “I am afraid.”

The "C" Word

I have cancer. There I said it. It gets little easier the more I say it. I skipped denial and jumped straight to acceptance because I knew it was there before it became official. I am having a hard time with anger though. I’m angry because if this was diagnosed in 2008 when I first noticed the dreaded lump my treatment would have been a lot easier to deal with. A lumpectomy sure beats a mastectomy any time. The type I have is invasive and the verdict is still out on whether or not it has traveled out of the breast yet.

Two years of Mammography notifications read, “We are pleased to inform you that the results of your recent mammography examination are normal.” The second time I got this letter I did not believe it. I asked my doctor if I could see the report. The first thing that angered me was the words “Routine Screening”. What is routine about reporting a growing lump two years in a row? Then I read the small print on the bottom of the report. “Mammography remains the best test for detecting early breast cancer and is diagnostic in approximately 85 to 90% of cases.” So am I in the 15%? I asked my doctor for more testing and got an ultrasound and a biopsy, the verdict: Stage II invasive ductal carcinoma. Treatment: Mastectomy followed by chemotherapy. Survival rate 85%. Fear: Will I be in the 15% again?

My surgeon ordered an MRI. The tech at the hospital looked at my reports and said, “Why are you getting an MRI you had two negative mammograms?” my answer, “Because I have cancer.” He looked at the mammogram films and his face went blank, he said, “A mammogram is only as good as the person who reads it.” When I actually looked at my films I wanted to scream. I can see “IT” there big as day why couldn’t the radiologist see it? Did a qualified person read my chart or view my films?

I don’t bargain with God. I pray for things and I my prayers are usually answered, and when they are not I try to figure out why. What is the greater purpose? What is the purpose of getting Cancer? In order to come to terms with this I need a purpose, that is the way my brain works. I am usually annoyingly optimistic; I can find a silver lining in a hurricane. I had to dig deep on this one. I need to do something useful with this. So I want to spread a message. You must pay attention to and trust your body, do not accept a diagnosis you do not agree with, fight for yourself with knowledge.

We all can imagine how the “business” of medicine can go wrong. Is your diagnostic company churning out screenings to generate the maximum insurance billings and highest profit? Or is their mission quality healthcare and accuracy? There is pressure from the insurance industry to lower the “False Positive” rates because every positive finding results in more expensive testing. The screening companies are incentivized to pay more attention to this matrix than the opposite “false negatives.” When these occur they just point to the fine print. “Sorry you’re in that unfortunate 15%.”

I urge everyone to hold your medical providers accountable. Ask to see the actual reports provided to your doctor for the testing they ordered and read the fine print. I believed in the effectiveness of mammograms to my own detriment. If I had not actually read my second report I would still be undiagnosed, believing in the recommendations of others instead of my own instincts.