Archive for the 'ovary removal' Category

03
Jun
09

I’m being deported on Friday

I reminded Brian that my appointment with the surgeon to have my chemo port removed is on Friday afternoon, and he said, “Oh, you’re being deported.”

This time, perhaps because the port went into the same place and there was scar tissue built up, I haven’t noticed it too much. The first time, it was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t lie on my right side at all for most of the time I had it in.

Also, last time, after I was done with the chemo, I couldn’t just have the port taken out in the usual office procedure – I was on warfarin at the time, so the surgeon would only do it in an operating room. So I ended up having it removed when I had my reconstruction/ovary-removal surgery.

For some reason, I’m a little nervous about having it removed in office, and totally concious – but lots of people do, so I’m sure it’s not a big deal. It just seems as if, when you’re taking something out of one of the major veins, that it *should* be a big deal. Even knowing that they do angiograms and other procedures where a vein or artery is entered under non-operating-room conditions doesn’t really make me less nervous.

I faced major surgeries with less nervousness, so I’m not sure why this bugs me. On one hand, I’m looking forward to getting rid of it, because it is nearly the last thing related to having cancer that I still have to deal with – the other thing being the anti-hormonal pill that I have to take for the next five years (and the quarterly follow-ups with the oncologist, and the yearly bone-density scans, and the – oh, never mind). On the other hand, I think there’s a superstitious part of me that is afraid that shortly after it’s removed, I’ll find out I have cancer again. It was only three months between the port being removed and finding the lump this last time – but then, it was only three months between my reconstruction surgery and finding the lump; three months between having my ovaries removed and finding the lump; three months from starting the anti-hormonal treatment to finding the lump.

But I could also say: it was three months between flying down to visit my mother-in-law and finding the lump; three months between having my first bone density scan and finding the lump; three months from our eleventh anniversary to finding the lump.

Intellectually, I know all of these things are unrelated to getting cancer – that doesn’t stop me from having irrational fears.

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11
Jan
09

January 11, 2009

All’s quiet on the chemo front – it’s gone both easier and harder than what I was expecting, but nothing dramatic.

My blood pressure was high when they took me back for my visit with the doctor, as I’ve been stressing about if I was going to have an allergic reaction to the Taxol solution – somewhere between 25 – 33% of people do. If so, typically slowing down the drip and increasing the steroids and antihistamines will take care of it. Sometimes, though, it is such an intense reaction that Taxol cannot be used in the patient.

The Avastin can also cause a reaction, although it doesn’t sound as if it is nearly so serious.

At any rate, when the nurse tried to pull my blood for labwork it wouldn’t come out of the port, so she had to stick my arm. No problem with flow into the port, but either there are some clots or perhaps the tube into the vena cava is creating a suction against the other side of the vein, causing it to allow fluid into the vein, but not pull any out. Next week, the nurse will put an enzyme in the port that will clear up any clotting and we’ll try again – however the important part is working, that fluid goes in.

I was there for 4-1/2 hours, got to visit a little with my two favorite chemo nurses and see the surgeon who did my ovary removal (all three are sweethearts!), and had some Reiki (a Japanese spiritual healing technique which involves a laying-on of hands to circulate energy through the body).  I cannot vouch for the effectiveness of what the Reiki woman (as opposed to Stevie Wonder’s Reggae Woman) intended to do, but I can certainly say that it allowed me to focus on my breathing and relax significantly, and that was a major bonus.

No major reactions of any kind; indeed, perhaps because of the steroids beforehand and during, I felt pretty good afterward, and we stopped by a friend’s birthday celebration for a little while that evening. No significant nausea Friday, just hints, but I took pills that night before bed as a precaution.

Saturday morning I woke up after sleeping solidly for eight hours, and was surprisingly awake. That lasted for about 5 hours, then I really felt myself run down hard, although I kept struggling with trying to focus on what I was doing. Finally I gave it up, and lay down in my recliner and slept hard for over an hour. Woke up, had something to eat, and was “on” for another four or five hours. But by the time bedtime rolled around, I was right there.

Today was more of the same – not really much in the way of side effects except for the “puppy face-plant” kind of tiredness that hits hard and fast; and the worst thing for me – the onset of chemo brain. I don’t remember it hitting this quickly last time; and I actually thought that since this was a low dose, maybe it would not happen at all until later in the process. But as I sat at my sewing machine trying to figure out why my top thread keeps breaking even though it appears to all be threaded correctly and that I’ve set the various tensions/pressures/etc. as appropriate for free-motion machine quilting, I realized that I must be missing something completely obvious, but that I can’t figure out *what*! I’m frustrated, and it doesn’t bode well for being able to drive myself to and from the train station on work mornings. Bah!

I’ve also come to recognize, well, I was going to call it a fallacy, but I’m not sure that’s quite the right word – maybe it’s just a poor strategy, in how I have chosen to deal with this second bout of cancer (bout – doesn’t that make it sound like I’m duking it out with cancer using the Marquess of Queensberry Rules?).

I haven’t purposely avoided telling people about it, but I haven’t gone out of my way to tell more than a few people about it, either. I made clear that it was not a secret, and that it was fine to pass on the information. I have sort of been relying on word-of-mouth and the blog to get the news out there, because I haven’t really wanted to talk about it and tell the whole sordid story to every person. I think there are several things behind this – partly because I’ve been wanting to pretend that everything is all normal and not have my life be all about having cancer again; because I’m starting to feel like a drama queen – “Ooh, look at *me*, I’ve got cancer, *again* – I’m so special!”; because I have been angry at my surgeon, my oncologist, my self, my body, that I have cancer again; and because everyone is so nice, most of them either are upset because they’re worried about me, or they’re upset because they’re angry for me (there have been a couple people who have offered to deck my surgeon for me ;-}  ).

But by pretending that it is just normal life, I can see myself falling into the trap of allowing the way I feel both emotionally and physically to become the new “normal” – leading me to forget that the outcome this time is supposed to be what was intended last time – no cancer, and an end in sight. This has stretched on so long since I found the recurrence last June, and sometimes it just seems easier to think of it as normal life rather than as “The Year of Living Cancerously”, because then I just look at each day, rather than focusing on “it isn’t over yet, and it’s going to be months before it is”.

I think I need to find a balance where my eyes are on the end of the road, but that I appreciate each day for what it gives me – so today I’m going to appreciate that my friend Cathy called, that Brian is cooking dinner, and that I’ve taken the first step on the chemo road, making the end that much closer.

23
Nov
08

November 23, 2008

Well, I’m cruising along toward the finish on my radiation treatments – four more to go, and I’m very pleased about that. Even though they gave me a “skin break” on the overall irradiation, the area around the scar and towards my armpit where they did the boost is extremely red and quite sensitive. No blisters yet, so it is still considered a first-degree burn, and the aloe gel does help soothe it; but I have to keep applying it, and having fabric rub against the skin for any length of time irritates it badly. I’m back on the general irradiation treatment now, but hopefully this 2-day weekend break, and the 1-day Thanksgiving break will keep it from getting too much worse.

We met with the oncologist on Thursday, and I have the starting date for my chemo: January 9. I will be having the low-dose regimen, where I have chemo three weeks in a row, and one week off. The drug will be Taxol, but the twist is that he also wants to have me use Avastin. I asked him why, since Avastin is normally used for Stage IV (metastatic) cancer. The other use for it is “locally recurrent” cancer, which describes my version. The Avastin will be administered in the first and third weeks of each 4 week period. I will have 3 or 4 months-worth of treatments.

Now, you know me, I am obsessively inclined to research, well, everything. Avastin’s action is anti-angiogenesis, which in real language means that it blocks blood pathways from forming to feed a tumor.

What?

I don’t have a tumor, right? This time, they got it all, right?

Yes, at least if you can trust the pathology report. However, the oncologist said that there isn’t really a standard for treating my type of recurrence – because of its quick return and aggressive growth, the idea is to be as aggressive as possible in its treatment. Hence the radiation to treat the local area, and the chemo to make sure that any stray cancer cells that might have passed through a lymph node without pausing are killed off.

But I do want to talk to him again, because I’m not really sure that I understand just how the Avastin is going to work on any floating cells out there – if it’s floating around in either the lymph or blood, the Taxol is there to kill it; Avastin is targeted to tumors. Perhaps it is just a precaution in case there were microscopic cells parked somewhere that did not show up on my PET scan this summer; or perhaps it is just because I’ve defied the odds already.

Another concern I have about the Avastin is that it causes bleeding problems. Now, the oncologist may have believed he was communicating the risks clearly, and I think for the most part, he did. But just the day before I met with him, there was a study publicized that claims that the risk of blood clots for Avastin patients is 33% higher that in control group studies. Of course, Genentech challenged that conclusion; as who wouldn’t when they make obscene amounts of money off a cash cow like Avastin. And I’ve been told this previously, that cancer patients are “hypercoagulative”, meaning they tend towards clots anyway, due to the cancer. However, the researchers based their findings on differences in clotting episodes between patients given Avastin and control patients that were NOT given Avastin – presumably the control group also had cancer. 33% increase is more than a statistical anomaly, given that both sets of patients should have been at the normal hypercoagulative risk of cancer patients in general.

The problem for me is that I have a history of pulmonary embolism; indeed, that is why the oncologist wanted me to have my ovaries removed – so that I wouldn’t be taking Tamoxifen, which includes an increased risk of clotting.

So why, if that is such a concern at a relatively low risk with Tamoxifen (0.5% for a deep vein thrombosis (leg clot), and 0.3% for pulmonary embolism (lung clot)), isn’t it a concern with a higher risk from Avastin (the *smallest* risk number I can find so far is 14%, which is a 6% increase over the placebo patients)?

Now, I’m interested to note that the clot information that Avastin labeling documents refers to includes both venous and arterial thromboembolic events – so in addition to having an increased chance of DVT or PE, I also have to worry about stroke, TIA, and heart attacks (oh, but those risks are only 4.4%, a mere 2.5% increase over the placebo group. . .).

So I’m not convinced at this point that I want to take my chances with the Avastin. On the other hand, the idea that there could be a stealth tumor out there somewhere is a concern. The researcher cited in the San Francisco Chronicle article, Dr. Shenhong Wu, said “his findings are not a reason to avoid taking Avastin,” and that it was simply a warning for hypervigilance in relation to clot symptoms.

So there you go. Will the cancer get me, or the blood clot? Or will I sail through this as I sailed through the last (unsuccessful) treatment? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of “As the Epidermis Burns”!

14
Apr
08

April 14, 2008

Friday was disappointing because my weight was up – only 0.6 pounds, but still. . .

Friday was great because we had beautiful weather, and I had to leave work early for a doctor appointment, so dang! I had to lower the convertible top. I hate it when that happens ;-}

Saturday was *hot*. I had to put the top down Saturday, too. Plus I went to a trunk show at Beads at Dusti Creek, and found some brilliant bargains, and have all sorts of new beading projects to work on. Dang.

Robin got a couple really good walks this weekend – on Saturday we went with the poodle and her mom to Bethany Lake park, and the only problem there was that it was firmly dusk coming back, so the gnats and mosquitoes were rising. We saw a miniature Australian Shepherd – I’d never heard of them before, and thought she was a puppy, but she was about three years old. Robin was intrigued, but didn’t stray from his poodle-love. On Sunday, we walked through the greenspace park north of our neighborhood (again with the poodle and her mom), and got to practice not freaking out on the busy street when cars come up from behind. We’re getting better about that ;-} Our next-door neighbor Arno, who’s around 5 or so, came over Sunday to ask if Robin could play, so they ran around the front yard, only it was hard to decide which one was chasing the other – I think they both thought they were in the lead.

I also power-washed part of the driveway – it is filthy, and had moss growing on it. It wasn’t too hard on my arms, but I realized too late that I was bending forward just slightly most of the time, and it made my back problems act up. I took an Epsom Salts bath when I came in from the yard, and I’ve been stretching and focusing on my core-strength exercises, trying to get it to clear up – I’ve also used an ice pack periodically. Unfortunately, I can’t take any anti-inflammatories, because of the blood thinner. I’ve got one month to go on that – I will be very happy to be done with the whole blood-clotting thing. But Brian gave me a nice massage last night, and that helped a lot. As long as I remember to get up and walk around periodically during the day at work, it seems to be maintaining, and not getting any worse.

Not much else to update – this was my second weekend after starting back to work, and I was not nearly as exhausted as I was on the first weekend. I still get tired, and my evenings after work consist of dinner and some reading, but I definitely see improvement in my stamina.

Interestingly, I don’t think I had a single hot flash today – either that, or I’m getting so used to them that I don’t notice them – nah, I definitely notice them!

My hair is really getting an attitude – it thinks it needs to be very curly, but it’s so short that it pokes out all over rather than laying flat. I don’t think I could get it to do this if I tried – oh, the wonders of chemotherapy! I see the plastic surgeon on Thursday for my 7-week check-up on the reconstruction. There’s still some swelling, but for the most part, I think he’s going to be ready to release me to doing whatever I feel like with lifting, etc., after one more week.

A reminder – there’s still time to join our walking team for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event on May 10. We’d love to have you walk with us – the link takes you to my page where you can either sign up to walk with the team (you don’t have to be a coworker – all friends and family are welcome), donate online, or print out a form to mail a donation in. There have been several extremely generous donations, and in addition to making a donation, my employer, Schrodinger, is buying our team t-shirts for the employees who sign up to walk. I still feel a little overwhelmed by how many people are showing their support by either walking, donating, or both. Thank you all – and know that as well as my gratitude, you have the gratitude of those who benefit from the American Cancer Society’s research, even if they can’t thank you in person.

Julie

06
Apr
08

April 6, 2008

Well, it’s been a busy couple weeks since my last post.

Shortly after I posted on the 21st, I got a call that my little brother was in the hospital. I flew down to see him on Easter (after having a wonderful Easter lunch with Sharon and Gary and their family). Brian couldn’t go due to a major project he’s working on for a client, so he dropped me off at the airport with a stern injunction to NOT PICK UP my own suitcase. When I checked the bag, they weighed it in at 25 pounds – everyone I asked for help was very kind about picking it up for me – I felt guilty about just asking people, because I look very healthy (and of course, I *am* very healthy, with the caveat that overdoing the lifting could make me *unhealthy*), so I felt compelled to explain about having recently had surgery, can’t lift more than 10 pounds, etc. Apparently Brian had called his mother (with whom I was staying, rather than getting a hotel), and told her I wasn’t allowed to lift my bag, so she came out to the rental car when I arrived, and my little 83 year old mother-in-law unloaded my suitcase for me. How’s that for embarrassing?

Tim was discharged from the hospital on  the Monday after Easter, and because he was at a hospital quite a distance from his house, and they are on tight funds, I gave him a ride home. I got to briefly see my nephews and niece – they’re all so big! The oldest son still at home will turn 17 in May, and he was the only one to really recognize me – with so little hair, and since it’s been quite a while since we’ve been to visit, the younger kids had a hard time reconciling this aunt with the one that had longer hair.

I had scheduled my trip to fly home on Wednesday, because I didn’t know when Tim was going to be discharged, so I ended up having a free Tuesday to spend with Brian’s mom. At that time, I was still sleeping in the recliner at home, since my arm range of motion wouldn’t allow me to sleep with my arm in the right position to sleep in the bed – I can’t sleep on my back in bed, only on my sides – so I was sleeping in one of her recliners. We seemed to be on the same sleeping schedule, and stayed up late and slept in late on Tuesday. Then I took her shopping for some craft items she needed (she isn’t driving since her accident in November), and then we met Dani, one of my sister-in-laws on Brian’s side, for lunch. Had dinner with a group of Shirlie’s friends, and then we all played Mexican Train dominoes after.

Wednesday I flew home from Sacramento, and spent the next four days recovering from the trip. As I’ve learned, I can push as hard as I need to, but the payment comes due eventually.

This past Monday, I started back to work. I had to hit the ground running, because we’re just getting into a very busy time. With 800+ e-mails to look through, I spent Monday going through them (fortunately, most of them were either informational or ones that didn’t require action on my part), and got started dealing with the ones that *did* need my attention. The rest of the week, I was focused on getting literature and other items printed and ready to ship to our first big event of the tradeshow season. Friday afternoon I got everything packed (I didn’t pick up any of the boxes, because I’m still on the 10-pound-or-less lifting restriction) and discovered that even without lifting or even pushing the boxes around, just using the tape-gun to seal the packages was hard on me – I didn’t damage anything, but I definitely experienced some pain once I was back at my desk that afternoon.

Brian and I went out to dinner and a show on the 4th to celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary (actual anniversary date = 3/29) – McCormick & Schmick’s on 1st Avenue (*wonderful* halibut with pomegranate molasses – mmm), then on to Cirque du Soleil’s “Corteo”. Sharon and Gary met us there, and the show was fabulous! Of course, we’ve never been to a Cirque du Soleil show that wasn’t.

This weekend I’m totally wiped out – again, I am paying for pushing myself this past week – I had thought I might start back around 3/4-time to work, but discovered that not only did I need to work full-time due to the deadline for this tradeshow, but I also had to work extra hours just to get it done. Frankly, I’m happy to be back to work, and to be able to do my job – and I’d much rather be busy than not. But I can hardly wait until I’ve recouped enough of my normal level of health that I don’t have to spend the weekend just recovering from work. When I was younger, work used to be a way of recovering from the weekend!

After my trip to California, I weighed in on the 28th, and my weight was up 0.6 pounds. It is really hard to eat well when you’re traveling. Mostly due to the fact that you don’t always have the choice of healthy restaurants, or healthy menu items to choose from; and if someone is cooking for you, unless they’re also on-plan, they don’t know how to accommodate on-plan needs. All in all, considering that I’d also had a big Easter meal that week, I was surprised at only being up by 0.6 pounds over the previous week, although I’d hoped to be able to hold steady. This week I weighed in down 1.2 pounds, which brings my total loss so far to 13 pounds. Only 5 more pounds to go to meet my first mini-goal!

I’m in the market for another fan – the one I have been using has now broken in two places (I play with it too much when I’m not actually using it). Where does one buy these things? I have no idea – probably not in the clothes department, but maybe in the toy department? Or maybe I have to go to some place like Cost Plus (what are they called now, World Market?) or Pier 1. The hot flashes are bearable, although I would say they’re getting a little more intense than they used to be. I can usually feel them coming on, with a feeling that my face is flushing, and if I take my hat off (assuming I have one on), that is often enough to fend one off. If one is coming on when my head is bare, fanning myself seems to shorten the duration. I definitely think caffeine is one of my triggers, but there are just some things that one can’t give up and still be able to function.

There are a couple people I want to share news about – one of my friends from support group, Penny, just had surgery on the 31st, and is in the hospital recovering.  The surgery was a long one, but the doctors believe they got everything they were in after, and even took less than they thought they might have to.  Love and healing thoughts to Penny!

My physical therapist had a surprise double-bypass surgery a couple weeks ago – he is young and healthy, and had no idea he had trouble brewing in his arteries.  He is recovering well, and says that he can’t even lift as much as I can – when they crack your sternum and ribs, the weight limit is 5 pounds.  So, Tony, keep on healing, and maybe by the time we’re both released to normal activity, I’ll be able to outlift you for a week or so!

I had a bone density scan last week, of which I am awaiting the results – before the scan the technician asked what my height was, and I told her 5’3″.  She then measured me, and I came out as 5’2″.  I looked at my driver’s license after the scan, and it definitely says 5’3″.  Of course, that was from back in 1988, but I would be surprised if I really did lose 1″ of height.  As I recall, I was actually about 5′ 2-1/2″, but that it got rounded up.  Still, that would mean that I’ve lost 1/2″ of height sometime in the last . . . 20 years . . . well, when you put it like that, I guess maybe I can believe that.  I don’t know how often they’ll do a scan to compare to this base-line – the Femara has the possibility of causing bone density loss, but then, so does menopause in general.  Exercise helps, so I’m trying to get serious about a daily routine.

With my hair growing in, and only taking a daily hormone pill for the next five years, and being back to work on a full-time basis, I’m starting to feel as if life is finally getting back to normal.  Once I’m off the blood thinner, I will be as free of the medical establishment as possible as regular quarterly visits to the oncologist allows.

Whoo-hoo!

21
Mar
08

March 21, 2008

Had my second follow-up with the plastic surgeon yesterday – after talking to him about my concerns regarding the right breast, we’ve agreed to wait five months before making any decisions about whether there is a need to try any corrective measures to even it up and potentially reposition it.  I wasn’t particularly surprised to hear him say that in spite of my dislike of the positioning, he considers it to be a job well done, and that there isn’t really a lot that *can* be done to change it.

Part of the problem is that there’s still plenty of swelling in the tissues (on both sides, but particularly on the right), and that because I’m right-handed, there’s additional fluid accumulation on the right side, which appears to all be accumulating under my arm.  Also, another part of the problem is that I have fat tissue under the arm – he showed me how to feel where the edge of the implant is, and sure enough, it is much farther to the left than I would have guessed.  As well, the flatness is being caused by the tightness of the overlying muscle – it has loosened up on both sides, but less so on the right side.

Thus we wait until the swelling and fluid accumulation have dissipated, and allow the muscles more time to relax and adapt to their new state.  The five months is to allow complete healing before we proceed with creating nipples (typically thigh tissue, I think); at that time, if I’m still unsatisfied, we can look at trying some liposuction of the fat tissue.  He doesn’t feel that there is anything he can to with the muscle – one’s muscles have a built-in tightness that can be affected by exercising and stretching, but surgically there’s really nothing to be done to make it looser – it could only be drawn tighter, which obviously would not be something I want done.  I haven’t decided yet if I want to have nipples made – that would be a purely cosmetic thing, for me and Brian to decide if it is worth the trouble.  At this point, I’m tending against it, but we’ll see.  I’m still considering whether a nice dragon tattoo might not be more appealing. . .

I drove for the first time yesterday, and last night started having some sharp, tingly pains in my right breast.  Even though I have been released to drive and start extending my range of motion, shifting is a little more than I really should be doing yet.  Unfortunately, I have to drive myself to another appointment this afternoon, so we’ll see how that goes.  It may be that short trips will build up the range of motion, or may make the pain worse – just typing here is starting to bring on a little sharp jab now and then.  I’m on light duty for the next 5 weeks – not allowed to lift anything more than 10 lbs, no pushing or pulling heavy doors or grocery carts, no reaching and lifting of anything more than very light stuff.  At 2 months, I can do anything I want, but in the meantime, I’m only allowed to do weight-bearing exercises that involve my legs and abdomen.  Once I return to work on the 31st, I will have to be careful to stick to the restrictions – hopefully by then driving won’t be causing any difficulties, or I’ll have to figure out how to get downtown without driving (from my house, taking all public transit means a 1-1/2 to 2 hour commute, each way).

The new medication, Femara, doesn’t seem to be causing any increase in my menopausal symptoms – I have started having some pain in my left knee, and a little bit in my right hip, but I wouldn’t expect it to happen that quickly – it started on Monday, after only my second dose.  So I suspect that the knee pain is a recurrence of an occasional problem I’ve had prior to this, and am attributing the hip pain to not getting enough exercise.

Last week my weight was down – this week, based on my home scale, I’m expecting that it will hold steady, or perhaps go down a little bit.  I’ve been sticking to plan, but haven’t done as good a job as usual at getting the right balance of foods in.

Have a happy Easter!

17
Mar
08

March 17, 2008

Today I’m tired, and depressed.  It’s going to take more than a green beer to cheer me up.

Even though I know that I should expect some emotional fallout from just having had surgery, and potential mood swings from entering menopause, I am just tired of dealing with cancer, of dealing with the “necessary” mutilations done to my body, and of dealing with having to go through recovery from surgery once again.  I’m angry at having to be afraid of getting another pulmonary embolism, one that might be less survivable than the last ones.  I’m frustrated at having to take all this time off work, with *none* of it being vacation, and all of it stuck at home.  I’m hurt at friends who don’t call, or e-mail, or visit; and annoyed at people who feel as if I should be calling them long distance because I’ve got all kinds of time on my hands and they are important enough to warrant a personal report on how I’m doing, without considering that I haven’t had more than half a paycheck coming in since September.  I’m sad because my hair will grow back, but my breasts won’t; and devastated at what I consider to be the awful results of the reconstruction.  I feel guilty for not having the dna testing that would tell us if my family carries the breast cancer gene markers; and worried because the extensive family history seems pretty clearly indicative that it does.  I’m grumpy about not being able to sleep at night.  I’m afraid that I won’t be insurable in the future, and I’m not even fifty yet.

However, I am grateful for the friends and family who do call, e-mail, and visit, and most importantly, care; for the fact that I was very fortunate to catch the cancer early; for the fact that I survived a pulmonary embolism in each lung, in spite of being misdiagnosed at first; for being able to take as much time off as I have and still being able to meet our mortgage payment and other important bills; and for not yet being fifty.

I’ll get over the depression, and one of these days I won’t be tired out, I’ll get back to being able to sleep at night, and will even have times when I do not think about what I’ve had to do to my body to survive, because I won’t have constant reminders of pain and discomfort that force my attention to my scars and my misshapen form.




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