KISS

This weekend I followed my friends as they volunteered at the Susan G. Komen for the Cure 3-Day event in Boston. I was scheduled to be with them, but had to cancel at the last minute because of my surgery.

I was so surprised and honored and moved to tears when I found out what they did so that I could experience the Boston event virtually. They found a replacement -- well maybe not so much a replacement as a representative -- who they so sweetly and cleverly named KISS. You can meet KISS and find out the meaning of her name at http://3daycrewcapt.blogspot.com/2012/07/meet-kiss.html.

KISS made the trek from San Diego to Boston and appeared to work so hard all weekend. I was able to follow her journey on Facebook at the 3-Day Event Support Team - Boston Facebook Page.

Watching KISS made me laugh out loud several times over the weekend and put a smile on my face every day. Experiencing Boston virtually was a different kind of journey for me, but even though I couldn't be there physically, I'm so grateful I got to experience it through KISS's eyes. Thank you to my 3-Day family. You make me feel so special. You have such big hearts and you all hold a very special place in mine. Big hugs to you!!

Virtual hugs from Becka in Boston.

Home = Heaven

My last post left off during my first night in the hospital. The next day the nausea continued and after an anti-nausea drug didn't work and I don't know how much time, the nurse (I think it was the nurse) suggested that maybe it was the morphine that was making me sick, the morphine that I was dispensing through "the button" as often as I could to dull the pain. He gave me a different anti-nausea drug, told me to stop pressing the button, and switched me Percoset instead. And, voila, by that afternoon I had done a complete 180 and was feeling soooooo much better. The remainder of my time in the hospital was uneventful, just the normal routine of meds, bad TV, and really bad food. I was so happy to hear the doctors say I could go home on Friday.

By the time the nurses got the dicharge papers in order and I was released, it was late afternoon on Friday. Ahhhh home, a shower, a real bed, MY pillow, healthy food, my DVR, and so much more. Heaven!

My first week at home went really well. How could it not with your husband doting on you, your Mom waiting on you hand and foot, flowers and cards and well wishes coming from every direction, and your friends taking care of dinner almost every night. The meds kept the pain under control and I was at the plastic surgeon's office every other day to get checked. He said that all is healing well. All of the staples and 2 of the 4 drains came out.

Now it's 12 days after surgery and I'm feeling great. Hopefully the last 2 drains will come out today. I've been able to cut the pain meds in half and I went for a couple of walks around the neighborhood with Greg and my Dad -- my bodyguards-- over the weekend.

Every day gets a little easier and every day I feel a little better.

Riding the Wave of Love into Surgery

A couple of days after I received my diagnosis I also received this "note from the Universe" in my inbox:

I think you already feel it, Kristin, but a really HUGE wave of LOVE is coming your way.
Once-in-a-lifetime HUGE.

Hang ten,
    The Universe

It was true, I was beginning to feel it. And as more and more people found out, the wave of love got bigger. And as the surgery date approached, it got bigger yet. And now that the surgery is over and I'm home recovering, the wave of love continues to increase. I am so blessed to have my family and friends that love me, support me, and want to help. If you are reading this, you are probably one of them. So from the bottom of my heart...thank you. You make all of this just a little bit easier. And I think having all of the support and love made the surgery day a little bit easier too.

So, a little bit about the surgery day...
It was a long day. I checked into the hospital at 9:00 am and the surgery wasn't scheduled until 3:00 pm. All I could think about leading up to that day was how hungry I was going to be by the time surgery time came. But hunger only crossed my mind a couple of times. It really wasn't that bad. I was wheeled down to ultrasound at about 11:00 am for a Sentinel Node Injection. I was injected with a radioactive solution that would travel from the injection site (the outer edge of the areola--I know, cringe) to the lymph nodes in my armpit. Then during surgery, the doctors use a Geiger counter (that's what I was told) to find the "sentinel node," the first node that cancer cells would travel to if they have started to spread. After the injection (piece of cake), I was wheeled back to pre-op where I waited for about 3 hours before the doctors started showing up, marking my body with sharpie, and telling me it's "that time." But, "that time" didn't come until about 4:00 pm. I was given my party (surgical) hat to put on, I kissed Greg and my parents, and they wheeled me back. On the way to the operating room the anesthesiologist gave me something to "forget my cares" (he didn't lie) and in the operating room I was asked to move from the gurney to the operating table. I tried to look around the room to get a sense of where I was and what the operating room looked like and the only two things I got were, "this is a really big room" and "everything's blurry" (they had already taken my glasses from me).

My next memory is in Recovery (as it should be). You know you hear those stories about people waking up during surgery, or having out-of-body experiences where they watch their own surgery. As intriguing as an out-of-body experience sounds, I don't think I want it to happen while I'm on the operating table. And it didn't. In recovery everything was still blurry (no glasses yet) and most of my memory is still fuzzy. I only have bits and pieces from recovery and every once in a while another bit pops back in my head and I have to ask somebody, "Did such and such happen while I was in recovery?"

Recovery wasn't pleasant...coming out of unconsciousness, blurry vision, nausea like you can't believe, and people talking about some lemon-sized hematoma on my left side. More sharpie to mark the hematoma, getting wrapped with a compression bandage around my entire middle to compress the hematoma, and did I mention nausea? --ugh. I think Greg was in recovery with me the whole time; I have visions of my parents at the foot of my bed smiling and waving, I remember holding the sickness bag, and nausea, nausea, nausea.

At some point I got wheeled to my room. The surgery took a total of 2 hours. Not sure how long I was in recovery. I was handed the button that dispenses my morphine. "Press it when you need it, but it will only dispense morphine every 8 minutes" was what I was told. I got through the night and my next complete (sort of) memory is the night nurse introducing me to my day nurse the next morning.

The good news of the night that Greg whispered in my ear somewhere in there was that the surgery was a success, the doctor's told my family everything went well, and best of all, the sentinel node biopsy came back negative---ALL CLEAR-- (i.e., the cancer did not spread).

To be continued . . .

Confirmation

I received the results of my BRCA1/BRCA2 genetic test. If you're not familiar with the BRCA1/BRCA2 test, it tests for mutations in these two genes. Everybody has these genes, but not everybody has the mutations. And studies show that if you have the mutations, you are at an increased risk for breast and ovarian cancer. Having the mutations does not mean they will be expressed (i.e., that you will get either cancer); it just  means that your risk is increased. To read more visit the genetic testing page at komen.org. My results showed that I am BRCA1 negative and BRCA2 positive. To me it means two things. First, it is confirmation that I chose the right surgery. Second, it somewhat answers the "Why me?" question. I now know that having the genetic mutation increased my risk of cancer. The unanswered question is what caused the mutation to express itself. That question I will probably never know the answer to.

The next step...dealing with the increased risk of ovarian cancer. Lots of questions to ask, lots of questions to be answered, some more decisions to be made. I'll be talking to a genetic counselor and more doctors to help me through the next steps.

Everything Happens for a Reason...Just Believe!

The title of this post is one of my favorite sayings. It helps me deal with situations, good or bad, just knowing that there is a reason behind every event. I may not know the reason right away (actually more often than not I don't), but as time passes, things come into focus, and the reasons become clear. There are probably many reasons I was meant to experience breast cancer the first time 14 years ago. But the one reason that I'm reminded of now, now that I've been diagnosed for the second time, is that without that first diagnosis, I would not have met many of the wonderful, amazing, generous, thoughtful, compassionate, passionate, and TRUE friends that I met because of breast cancer.

In 2003 I became involved with the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in San Diego. I walked the event that year as a celebration of my 5-year survivor anniversary. I trained hard and made it the 60 miles in 3 days with many physical aches and pains, but also with an absolute knowing in my heart that I was going to remain involved with this organization, and this event in particular, until breast cancer is no longer a life-threatening disease. Every year since 2003 (except 2007 when I moved), I have been on the all volunteer crew for either the San Diego or San Francisco event. Each year I meet the most amazing people and over the years many of us have become close because we return each year. We have formed our own 3-Day family. I truly love my Kanunu O'hana.

Our Crew Captain honored me in his blog today. I was touched to tears and reminded of the strength of our Kanunu O'hana. Thank you Andrew! Whether we like it or not, without breast cancer, we never would have met. There are many more of you 3-Day'ers out there (you know who you are) that I love dearly. I am so fortunate to know you. Although I'm not going to make Boston, I will look forward to constant photos on Facebook and I will see you in San Diego in November.

For you non-3-Day'ers (and non-Facebookers), here are links to my photos on Facebook of some of the events over the years. You'll see why I keep going back.
2011
2010
2009
2008

And also, without my own experience with breast cancer, I never would have joined an organization called ChemoAngels. After I made it through my own journey, I wanted to hopefully help another young breast cancer survivor get through hers. I found ChemoAngels, signed up to become an Angel, and was matched with a strong, independent, amazing woman. This year she celebrates her 10-year survivor anniversary. Love ya TLW!

So we'll see what new reasons come into focus as the months and years pass. I'm sure there will be many...just believe.

A Gift

A friend's post on Facebook this morning linking to this article reminded me of a poem I found many years ago after recovering from all of the treatments after my first diagnosis. Every single line of this poem hit home with me. It was true then and it is true now.

A Gift

by Linda Nielsen

I was given a gift,

wrapped shabbily, it was non-returnable,

non-refundable!

Reluctantly I accepted it.

In it I found courage I never knew existed

and a patience far beyond anything ever experienced.

I was given the ability to trust a stranger with that most dear to me,

and an endurance for the unknown.

I was given unconditional love of family and friends,

always there, never stopping, never faltering.

I was given many prayers from far and wide,

and the warmth of knowing I am truly cared about.

I was given a fond farewell of my modesty and vanity,

and the acceptance and love of an imperfect body.

I was given a strong shoulder to lean on when that

shoulder had once grown distant,

and laughter and good times, more special than ever before.

I was given many new friends,

wonderful, courageous women I am so very proud to know.

I was given warm sunshine and beautiful green grass,

blue skies, and sparkling city lights.

I was given things to see,

that once before were ignored.

I was given the chance to wake up,

instead of sleepwalking through life.

I was given every glorious day to enjoy,

every month to savor, every year to rejoice.

I was given the gift of life,

I was given breast cancer.