The Susan G Komen 3 Day Walk For The Cure

So, Britt, Matt & I are thinking of taking part in the Susan G Komen 3 Day Walk For The Cure in Chicago. I have to get the OK from my doctor (you know, the heart issues that cropped up when I was in the hospital in November). The dates are August 6-8th, you walk 20 miles (*gasp) a day, sleep in tents they provide. I go back to my cardiologist on February 4th, so I'm going to ask then. I'll let you know what he says and what we decide to do! But we are going to need a team name!!

because October is Breast Cancer Awareness month...

part 2~ a walk through hell...

So I went into surgery, had the port installed, celebrated Thanksgiving my family. My first round of chemo was scheduled. December 16, 2005. I remember I woke up that morning, feeling optimistic. Not completely terrified. I can and will beat this. Positive, positive, positive. If I lost my hair, so what? It's just hair. I'd slap some RED lipstick on, big hoopy earrings and wear it well. Until I actually walked into the room with the recliners (there's 2 in each treatment room) and sat down. One of the nurses came in and asked how I was doing. That was all it took. I broke. I cried like I've never cried before. I was so scared. They gave me the hugs and support I needed, brought in a woman that had been going through this for awhile, and got me started. I was going every other Friday, for 2 different kinds of chemo. One was so bad that it had to be manually pushed into my port. If it was accidentally spilt on skin, or was not in the vein properly, it would eat your tissue to the bone.
So I sat there for about 4 hours (maybe it was more) watching as I slowly allowed someone to poison my body. drip. drip. drip. But they used my port and it was working wonderfully! When I was finished with my first treatment, I went home and straight to bed. And slept for about the whole weekend. I went to work Monday, starting to feel run down. But not another treatment until after the holidays! Yay! I would sleep on my lunch hour. My appetite dwindled. I wasn't vomiting, no poopies, just tired. And during all this, I'm doing last minute Christmas shopping, preparations, etc.
* little backstory*Christmas Eve is spent with Jim's step-daughter (from the relationship before me) and her family. Tammy was the one who told me about her company hiring, set up the appt for me, everything. I had quit my job of 8 years to babysit Tammy's first baby, Taylor in 2001.

So that evening we head over to Tammy's to spend Christmas Eve with her family. I'm not feeling good, I had a little bit of a temp, just what I was told to expect, really. Run down. We have so much fun with Taylor, it's her first Christmas and it was magical! We go home, get our kids tucked in, because like all young teens, they will be up before the sun!
I wake up the next morning and can barely move. My temp is sky high. It's Christmas morning! The kids open their presents, we call their dad for him to come early to get them, Jim & I head to the ER. Something must wrong. I get there about 7:30 a.m. They take my temp and it's 103.7. They tell me they will be drawing blood to start some tests. I make sure they know to use the port (hey that is why its there!) so no vein poking! They come to draw blood, and NOTHING will come out. Ok, remember when I said it's attached to your artery? Yea, blood is supposed to be FLOWING through it. Nada. Zilch. Dry. Guess what? It turns out my port is infected. My infect port has now given me Sepsis. For those that don't know what sepsis is:

sep·sis
(sěp'sĭs) n. pl. sep·ses (-sēz)
1. The presence of pathogenic organisms or their toxins in the blood or tissues.
2. The poisoned condition resulting from the presence of pathogens or their toxins, as in septicemia.

It literally almost killed me. That night. I was admitted into the hospital, they forgot to turn the temp up in the room, by evening I had so many IV's attached. That evening I began to convulse (or so Jim has told me repeatedly) my blood pressure did its weird thing, my heart rate did it's weird thing. Then it just stopped and I was back.
By the time I left the hospital, it was New Years Day, the port had been removed, I had a large blue tube stuck in the side of my throat for an IV that I would have to attach several times a day. (It has left a small hickey looking scar on my neck. I still get teased! LOL!) I had a home nurse that would come in everyday, to check to ensure that I was getting better, that the infection was going away. Let me stop here and say this. I was MISERABLE in the hospital. The staff acted like I was putting them out by being sick during the holidays. Ok, so maybe it was. But come on, your a nurse for a reason. Your supposed to want to help those that are too sick to help themselves. Not only was the staff horrible, but about 5 days into my stay my hair started falling out. I was so sick I truly did NOT want to see anybody and there were times during that hospital stay that I was so sick that I really did wish that I would just go ahead and kick off. I've never been so sick in my life. On New Years Eve I point blank told the docs that they would figure out a way for me to get home to be with my kids (their dad had to go back to work) or I would walk myself out of the blankity blank blank hospital. My Daddy was a truck driver, I know lots of good ole boy cusses! I would never, ever, never recommend that hospital to anyone. It is forever referred to as the Veterinary Clinic around our house.

Well, that's it for part 2. Got to get some sleep!

part 1~The Day I Found the "Lump"...

As everyone knows (or should know by now) October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. So I thought I would take a trip down memory lane (what I remember of it anyway) and tell my story. It won't be told all at once, its just too hard emotionally to relive it all at once. So here it goes. The beginning:

One morning in October of 2005, I was getting ready to go to work, the normal routine every morning. I lathered up and started the cleaning process. When I went to clean my left boob, I noticed there was a hard bump. And it felt BIG to me. Now I didn't remember it being there the day before (you know it had to be, but how could I have MISSED that!)! But I didn't think to much at that point (maybe I was getting ready to start or any number of things), just that I better call the doc and see what he thought. I finished my morning routine, went to work, called the doc and of course he wanted to see me. That day. So I went in, he did his exam and sent me right over for a mammogram. When those results came back, he sent me to a surgeons to see what he thought about removing it. (Let me just slip in here that my surgeon looked an awful lot like Al Pacino!!) We decided that it did need to be removed, so a date was scheduled for the following week. Have I mentioned yet just how scared I truly was? I was scared spitless. So I made the arrangements, scheduled the time off work, and went in to have the operation. It was going to be a quick removal (we still thought it would be benign) with me going home the same day.
I will always remember the look on the surgeons face when he walked into my hospital room after surgery that day. The test results weren't back yet, but he was almost positive it was cancer. I knew 24 hours later. At the ripe old age of 36, I had a fast growing cancer. What would happen to my babies if I died? Their dad could barely take care of himself, let alone raise my kids the way I wanted them to be raised. Both my parents & step parents had already passed, I sure didn't want one of my sibling raising my kids.
So another surgery was scheduled to remove some lymph nodes to see if it had spread...IT HADN'T!! Yay! I did catch it in time. Appointments were made with an Oncologist, treatment was decided on, the decision to have a "port" put in for the chemo was made and the appointment scheduled to have that surgically installed (yep back to Al Pacino!!). Everything is ready to go! By this time, it's almost Thanksgiving and we had ALOT to be thankful for that year.
I was asked once why I chose to have the port inserted. Let me tell you, when you find out your going to have a needle stuck in you for over a year and a half, a port is a Godsend! For those that don't know what a port is: It is a thing that they surgically insert into your artery so the nurses do not have to poke you with a needle in a new veins each and everytime you go for chemo. Mine was inserted in the upper right side of my chest above my book. It stays in the same spot, it's just a little bump under your skin. It can stay there forever if need be.

Well that's all for now, I need to get to work!