Mamma Mia

Okay, so I know that I already posted today, but this photo was so cute that I just couldn't resist. My mom and my younger great nephew Nicky formed a mutual fascination society at the dinner tonight. 80 years meet 8 months, and they both have adorably plump cheeks. Heredity, mebbe?

I also took a little video with my digital camera and entertained my mom on the spot with playback of her and Nicholas entertaining each other.

While I feel kinda guilty that it was such a low key celebration for what is after all is a pretty major birthday, it's still pretty darn neat when 4 generations sit around a dinner table...AND we actually all like each other's company!

Poor mom -- it was an unfortunate nexus this year between my brother-in-law's Alzheimer's worsening dramatically, my operation, and some other family domestic dramas which I won't get into here, so she really didn't get the attention she deserves as the matriarch of our ever-expanding clan. But at least she did get a kick out of watching 2 of her 3 GREAT-grandchildren (and vice versa).

On the left we have the ravaged remnants of a deep-fried whole fish. Yum! I also ordered Peking duck, seafood triple delight (scallops, shrimp, fish fillets), sauteed spinach with garlic, and crispy orange beef w/ baby corn, with chicken and broccoli for my 3 year old great-nephew Thomas. And my sister brought a birthday cake with her from CT inscribed "Happy Birthday Naboh" (Naboh is the transliteration of how we say maternal grandma in Shanghainese.)

Since we demolished everything in sight, but left enough detritus that I didn't feel that I under-ordered, it was very gratifying, since the worst faux pas in our family is to insufficiently feed guests. (Well, I'm sure I could come up with a few more, but for a birthday meal, I can't think of anything higher on the register.)

The drive downtown gave me some nice alone time with my older niece Andrea, and I had a short but comfortable chat with her husband at the restaurant during a rare respite from kid-wrangling. Don't get me wrong -- the 2 boys are generally well-behaved, and tonight they miraculously lasted almost 2 hours on their best behavior, an eternity in toddler time. However, keeping an eye on them so that a chopstick didn't go into an eye, keeping them entertained, and feeding them, well...I'm wondering if some of my friends realize what they're in for, as they await their upcoming babies. ;-P

Also, my brother-in-law seems much better these days (yay!) since the neurologist adjusted his medication, and he has been going to the adult day care center 5 days a week. The mental stimulation of both the carefully organized activities and carefully partnered companions seem to have done what they were intended to do. He also is a big fan of bingo now. :-)

All in all, a really nice evening... which ended with me back home by 8:15pm!

Waking up before down is So Wrong

Okay, I just saw a commercial on TV for Lean Cuisine (and why are they advertising this before breakfast anyway?!) and while their foods ARE pretty decent for frozen entrees, and they helpfully skip preservatives:

• frozen entrees NEVER taste as good as they look on the box
• frozen entrees NEVER taste as good as fresh entrees, or even leftovers (but I prefer them over processed foods), so I just can't get very excited about them; I look at them as convenient, portion-controlled lunches for the office
  
• the woman in the ad was eating at LEAST the equivalent of 2 (or even 3!) boxes -- LC entrees are the size or airplane meal entrees (remember those?) and THAT woman was eating something as big as an (American) restaurant entree

Welcome to my ruminations during insomniac television viewing.

Oh, and then I proceeded to eat about 1/3 of cup of nuts, which is about 20% of my daily WW points (if I were actually tracking at the moment -- I'm giving myself a hiatus during treatment, but trying not to gain TOO much weight since I bought all these damn new clothes!) or about a Snickers bar worth of calories (but at least it's more nutritious AND it allows me to take my morning Aleve tablet).

Yeah, I'm in a bad mood. The photo above was taken about 2 hours after I woke up... yes, before dawn. Yes, before my engineer. That's just: So Wrong.

So: sleeplessness + agitation + lethargy + tearfulness + oases of calm = my general state of mind. Apparently, this is kind of normal, or my new normal: "...women dealing with breast cancer often swing between feeling very distressed and remarkably calm" according to Living Through Breast Cancer: What a Harvard Doctor -- And Survivor -- Wants You To Know About Getting The Best Care While Preserving Your Self-Image". Well, at least it's good to know that I'm not completely crazy, just understandably nuts.

So it was really comforting to attend a breast cancer support group meeting yesterday @ MSKCC. These are all women in the midst of adjuvant therapy, which I am about to start on the 13th.

Despite their many challenges (most of the women have had either a single or double mastectomy, which can include removal of the underlying pectoral muscles as well) they were all handling it with grace, humor, and positive attitudes. I was truly humbled.

That is not to say that there weren't any problems discussed (if it was all happiness and light, we wouldn't need a support group now, would we?) and that a box of Kleenex wasn't killed, but they can be my role models, no?

Although my life lately has revolved around medical appointments (see the collection of medical business cards I've accumulated?) -- and I felt like compared to these ladies, I had a little "baby" cancer, with "chemo-lite" -- they were all so welcoming and encouraging. To me, December 30th (the day I received my diagnosis) seems long ago, but they assured me firmly that as cancer goes, it's merely the blink of an eye, and that discovering you have breast cancer is upsetting, no matter the size or stage.

Their comments about time were eye-opening. (This would be why support groups are GOOD. Duh.) Think about it: my "mild" treatment for a "small" (1.1 cm) stage I tumor consists of surgery + chemo + radiation, which will last for most of a year (32 weeks -- and we're not even counting the follow up checkups) but these women have treatments which last for years, plural.

It's like the parent that screams at their kid once they find them after being lost: now that the immediate stressors have passed (lumpectomy + uncooperative incision) it's finally all sinking in, especially since [surprise!] I get a bonus round of chemo. So these days I frequently feel like bursting into tears. Bleh.

So let's review the timeline, shall we?

1. Dec. 9 - my gynecologist finds a lump during my annual checkup
2. Dec. 23 - I am able to squeeze in on the Columbia-Presbyterian mammography calendar; also have an ultrasound which confirms that yep, there is definitely SOMEthing unfriendly in my boob
3. Dec. 26 - core needle biopsy at Columbia-Presbyterian
4. Dec. 30 - my gynecologist calls with the happy news: Stage I breast cancer, approx. 6 or 7 mm
5. Jan. 19 - consultation w/ my breast surgeon at Sloan-Kettering; agree to do a lumpectomy w/ sentinel lymph node biopsy
6. Jan. 23 - MRI
7. Jan. 26 - various pre-surgical tests to clear me healthwise for the procedure
8. Jan. 29 - lymphatic mapping of left axilla region at the Nuclear Medicine Dept. of Sloan; I get a "she's not a terrorist" card from MSKCC in case I set off any govt geiger counters; 1st day of short-term disability leave
   
9. Jan. 30 - surgery
10. Feb. 10 - 1st follow up visit; return to work date pushed off from Feb. 11
    
11. Feb. 16 - 2nd follow up visit; return to work date pushed off to Mar. 5
12. Feb. 25 - 3rd follow up visit; return to work date of Mar. 5 looks good
13. Mar. 4 - 4th follow up visit
14. Mar. 5 - return to work (looking good so far)
    
15. Mar. 13 - 1st chemo treatment; repeat every 3 weeks...
    until...
    
16. Jun. 5 - 6th & final chemo treatment
17. all of July - radiation treatment for 25 weekdays
    

I know that my friends are being supportive by reminding me that the tumor is gone, but I guess in my mind my cancer won't be gone (or at least banished) until I finish all of my treatment. It's hard to think of it being in the past when you're always scheduling your next medical appointment. (Really, you should see my Palm Pilot -- it's mapped out to July.)

And I don't feel like a breast cancer survivor yet -- to me, survivor implies that I actively did something, like emerge from a plane crash. (Hell, I haven't even actively cleaned my damn apartment!) Instead, I am benefiting from the excellent care and services of Sloan-Kettering (and they ARE pretty wonderful), which seems kind of passive. (My friend Marci made some highly relevant rejoinders to this view, but I am too tired to recall them at the moment.)

So yes, perhaps it is high time that I return to work on March 5th. It will give me something to think about besides CANCER and the fact that my engineer will be out of the country from then until the 21st. Besides, I am actually starting to get sucked back into occasionally watching The Young & The Restless. Yes, definitely time to go back to work next week, before I rot what's left of my mind.

So okay, on a cheerful note, today is my mom's 80th birthday, according to the Chinese calendar (which is the one SHE cares about) so we are going out to dinner to celebrate: her, me, my sister & brother-in-law, my older niece & her husband, and their 2 little boys. The double orchid below, (there are 2 stalks in the pot), but only one in this photo) with many buds yet to bloom (see? on the far right), is my present to her.

Not So Merry Go Round

So I have my bad days (when I want to cry a lot and freak out) and good days (when I am calm about the whole thing).

Today was not so good emotionally (I destroyed a whole bunch of Kleenex throughout the day), but good physically: my 3rd weekly post-surgical follow-up visit went well and the boob wound is finally healing well.

There is also an incision in the underarm area from the lymph node removal, and ironically, while that one has healed without any problem at all, the nerves in my left upper arm and left ribcage area are extremely irritated (which is normal for this type of surgery and will last for several weeks more), to the point where my arm touching my body while I walk is painful. As you can imagine, this drives me nuts.

Upon the nurse's advice, I will be exploring the wonderful world of Aleve (2x/day) for the foreseeable future. (Fran, by the way, is great -- she is very down to earth, cheerful and understanding. She is the source of the classic quote, "If you won't take time off for CANCER, what WILL you take time off for?!")

Sleep has been not so friendly this week: I have either not had enough sleep (because my mind is racing but I have to get up for my endless round of medical appointments) or had unrestful sleep punctuated throughout by a series of anxiety dreams. I'm sure the fatigue has had an (unhelpful) effect on my mood too.

Too tired to hunt around for a perky photo right now. Will fill in more tomorrow afternoon, after my first adjuvant support group meeting at MSKCC. Either that or I'll be napping.

Tastes like chicken

Tonight I made my first roast chicken ever, using a heritage chicken, (i.e., slow grown & antibiotic-free) via FreshDirect, which is only a little more than $2 over the cost of regular steriod-stuffed industrial chicken, since it was on sale when I bought it.

Ever since I read The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, there's been a small corner at the back of my mind which has been quietly boggling at the methods involved in most supermarket meat which I've been blithely consuming all of my life. Since my diagnosis, I've been wondering more than once if all of the hormones, steroids, and antibiotics pumped into most livestock grown for domestic consumption might have affected my body...

While that may not be a direct, provable cause of my cancer, it certainly wouldn't hurt health-wise to go for more organic foods., but the price gap always gives me pause. For example, a regular roaster costs $1.49/lb. but weighs in at 7 lbs., while the slow grown heirloom chicken was a little under 3 lbs. and cost $3.99/lb. You see the bizarre differential in size, no? Of course, then my natural cheapness battles against my newly cautious omnivore... decisions, decisions...

On the other hand, my friend Marci tells me that kosher meat frequently tastes better than "regular" meat, since those animals are also raised the "old-fashioned" slow grown way, so there is that.

And indeed, Marci pronounced it quite tasty. Despite the smallish size, there is still more than enough for another meal after both Marci and I plowed through Il Pollo Buono. (She called to ask what time she should meet me for tomorrow's MSKCC follow up visit -- as she is kind enough to accompany me tomorrow* -- and I mentioned that I was roasting chicken for dinner before it was old enough to hatch a crop of fuzzy chicks.)

* Many sources recommend that a friend accompany the cancer patient to appointments, both for moral/emotional support, and because 2 memories are better than one, since well, the patient is usually a WEE bit stressed out and can be distracted even with notes jotted down (which I do, in one particular notebook which I always bring).

In any case, I used a recipe I found on the FreshDirect website, for roast chicken with apples and onions, which turned out both aesthetically and culinarily well. The roast vegetables also included some sweet and Idaho potatoes I had lying around, along with some red onions instead of regular yellow, since they added more color. The secret of this particular recipe is that BACON is used to baste the chicken internally: by slipping 4 slices of bacon under the skin in the breast and thigh areas, the "rendering" of the fat while roasting keeps the meat moist.

Since this was the first bird I had trussed for roasting, you can entertain yourselves with the image of me wrestling with a cold, clammy chicken while trying to tie it into something vaguely resembling the diagram in the Joy of Cooking. Later this week: I discover how to make chicken stock from the leftover carcass.

So yes, as you can deduce from tonight's post, I am feeling better, despite my endless series of stress dreams/nightmares. My friends Margaret and Jackie talked me down off the ledge, as it were, the other night. I also try not to freak myself out by reading medical stuff in the evenings.

And on that note, I leave you all and go off to organize my medical papers for tomorrow's follow up visit., as suggested by both one of the books I bought and my health insurer's patient materials. (This does not count as reading, merely as [ick!] filing.)

Due to the sheer volume of material, there will be one 3-ring binder for the medical stuff (chemotherapy info, pathology report, etc.) and another one entirely for insurance and disability paperwork. Ugh.

P.S.

Dunno if you can tell, but that platter of seafood is gigantic, almost as big as a 9" x 13" baking dish if it were casserole/oval-shaped. My mom's face was a sight to behold when it showed up -- her look of amazement was just priceless.

After we saw the Golden Dragon Acrobats (warning: their official site sometimes loads slooooowly) at NJPAC today, my fella took us to the Iberia Peninsula Restaurant, also in Newark. (The experience just confirms my suspicion that Portugese restaurants may not know how to cook in any quantity other than VAST.)

The acrobats, but the way, were fantastic. I am a happy camper, and even my mom, tough critic extraordinaire, conceded that it was quite a good show. (Yes, you can probably still feel the waves of relief -- wherever you are -- which I exuded this afternoon.)

And in addition, my engineer had never seen Chinese acrobats perform before, so I was very pleased to introduce him to a fun new experience. Plus, this current show lived up to my childhood memories and then some. Yay team!

I do wonder how much cross pollination there has been with Cirque du Soleil. Sure, Chinese acrobats have been performing for 2,500 years, but Cirque has better PR. So if you like Cirque, you would like Chinese acrobats. The videos on YouTube don't do them justice, so I have not embedded any here, but they're around if you feel like hunting them up.

Okay, all of this, while possibly interesting, is really a roundabout way of my leading up to a few comments, some of which I've been trying to avoid facing:

1. Some of my posts are veeeerrrry long. (Yes, I am starting with the easiest item first.) I have been using this blog as not only a way of keeping friends updated, but also as a semi-public diary. Hence, verbosity.
2. I think I have officially reached the freak-out-in-panic stage of cancer treatment. I know that all things look "favorable" but cancer is still freakin' scary. Plus, waiting to hear about the "likelihood of recurrence" from the oncotype test is ... uh, terrifying. Probably another week of waiting before the oncotype results come in with my recurrence index.
3. Arming myself with knowledge is good, but it is also scaring the sh*t out of me. Remember: my technique to date of dealing with this has been -- if not exactly denial -- just not pondering anything too deeply.
4. Going off oral birth control for the moment has whacked out my hormone levels, so I dunno when the urge to cry is normal fright, and when it's PMS. Since extra estrogen = BAD idea when one's cancer is estrogen-positive = no more hormonal methods for the moment; futurecycle regulator alternatives to be decided at some point.

Okay, I'd better go heat some milk or something to calm myself down, or else tonight will be another night of tossing and turning. Sigh.

(Note to self: In the future, DO NOT think about this stuff after dinner. Idiot.)

Food, folks, and fun

In a misleading bit of food fetishism, I present you all with some photos from our October 2008 dinner at Cho Dang Gol. Yummmm.... I know that I've already posted about this but I don't think I've ever showed you the actual food porn.

The little side dishes surrounding my engineer -- known as "ban chan" I believe -- are the normal (!) condiments / accompaniments that the restaurant provides for every dinner (not every diner, every dinner -- dunno about lunch).

Speaking of my poor fella, he is post-breakfast napping at the moment, since my tossing and turning last night kept him awake, and this after he had to get up at 5:00 AM yesterday (yes, Saturday morning) to go down to Philly for a full day's work.

Hopefully, that will leave him a bit more rested, especially since we will be taking my mom to see the Golden Dragon Acrobats of Puyang, China this afternoon at the NJ Performing Arts Center in Newark. I haven't seen Chinese acrobats for many years, so I am looking forward to it, having bought our tickets months ago, but sometimes spending time with my mom does require strength and endurance.

I am pretty sure that my sequence of bad dreams last night (I had not one, not two, but a trifecta) had to do with the fact that I finally buckled down and bought 2 books: Breast Cancer Survival Manual, Fourth Edition: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Woman With Newly Diagnosed Breast Cancer and also Living Through Breast Cancer. (Hey, the occasional 40%-off-one-book coupon from Borders works on me sometimes, I admit it, but only if I was thinking about getting something anyway.)

As I mentioned before, thinking my health status (yes, I even have problems naming it) with any great depth gives me some agita, but I should read about it to better understand issues such as recommended nutrition during chemo, organizing my medical records, understanding the pathology report, etc.

Luckily, my sweetie and I really like my breast surgeon (and my friend Marci too, who also kindly accompanied me one day -- Jackie did too, but didn't meet him) who is a leading specialist in the field of sentinel lymph node biopsies. (Did I mention that he teaches this procedure to other surgeons?) He's warm, and patient, with a great way of clearly explaining the issues and procedures to a layperson, sort of the antithesis of the surgeon stereotype.

My radiation oncologist has a more technically oriented manner, but this may be a function of her specialty (or speciality, as the Brits say) since her field is heavily influenced by statistics, recurrence indices, numerous types of treatment protocols, and the like. Her fellow (I guess that's sort of a junior/apprentice) is not listed on the MSKCC site, but he seems like a mensch. :-)

And in more lighthearted news, tonight is the Oscars telecast. Two years ago this Sunday, I was in Taiwan for a week, for work, another miserable experience that I apparently never blogged about -- will have to post some photos here soon. (Funny how trips to Asia for work = misery + fascinating experiences. Oh well, there is no free lunch, as they say.) I remember specifically because I woke up (they're 12 hours ahead) and went to work, and found out the winners during the Monday workday.

I was reminded of the Oscars because my bridesmaidenhood (yes, I made up that word) experience this month was kind of trippy: As we entered the reception, post-ceremony, the DJ announced each of the bridal party by name. There were bright lights, a blizzard of flash photos, and applause. I had spent most of the day being attended to by a professional makeup artist and a professional hairstylist, and ordered around by a professional photographer. You can see how it felt a little freaky, like I had woken up at some bizarre red carpet event. (There are amazingly -- and unusually -- glamorous photos of me on my Facebook account. Let me know if you want the link, since FB does not require you to register to view photo albums.)

Yes, wedding experiences are like dating experiences: you may not know what you want going into each event, but you leave with a clearer understanding of what you DON'T want. Basically, I am learning that everything in life appears to be a process of discovering more about yourself -- it doesn't mean other folks are wrong; it just means you (eventually) figure out what IS your own personal style.

And on that note I leave you with a few links and comments for your amusment:

• A photo of my April 1990 powder pink bridesmaid gown (previously discussed) for my cousin Eileen, who is still happily married (yay!) with two strapping sons
  
• A link to UglyDress.com, a truly stupendous collection of, well, ugly bridesmaid dresses, bridal gowns, wedding receptions, and the like
  
• A prescription from Fran, the surgical nurse in charge of my case (not sure if that's the correct term, but she is my breast surgeon's numero uno nurse, so.... by the way, Fran was also given an honorable mention in the November 30, 2008 New York Times Tribute to Nurses! she was the one who gave me the hilarious reality check in January)

1. Watch/rent 27 Dresses
2. Go see Confessions of a Shopaholic
3. RELAX and take it easy!

Lego my Eggo

So believe it or not, I actually have been knitting occasionally. See? This is from a long ago purchased skein of Reynolds Andean Alpaca Regal Bulky. I am knitting a backing to the oddball of Debbie Bliss Alpaca Silk which I turned into a skinny scarf this winter. (The other 2 balls of Debbie Bliss became a beaded scarf Xmas present for my friend Jane.) The goal is to sew the 2 sides together so my scarf quits curling up.

Also for your amusement are 2 Lego versions of myself which I created using a link sent to me by my friend Margaret.

While I did these a few months ago, I am of the firm opinion that oceans of blathering should always be leavened by bright shiny objects (a/k/a graphics). I think that the grey hair, glasses, hideous (school colors) scarf, spatula, and low fat baking cookbook are quite representative of my hobbies and background. Alas, the buns are for my frumpier (and/or more earnest) days. The smirk is for always. Heh.

And although I love baking, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I should perhaps take it easy and not whip up so much stuff (yes, Ms. Jackie, you're right) since I should give my upper arm areas a rest. I never realized how much I rely on my left side, even though I am a right-handed person (we'll just ignore the no-longer remembered portion of my childhood when I was a lefty -- until my mother beat it out of me: Chinese people are superstitious, as you may know, and lefthandedness is severely frowned upon).

Think about it: while you are using your right hand to manipulate whatever utensil (spatula, hand mixer, etc.) with your finer motor skills, you use your left hand for more strength-oriented tasks such as holding the mixing bowl, lifting the [cast iron] skillet to dish out food, etc. Perhaps not the best use of my enforced disability leave, eh? (Duh!)

Also, I am trying to wean myself from the classic kitchen sink approach to handbags: reading for the subway, knitting for a visit to my sweetie, something for my mom/his parents when we visit, things I might need "just in case", etc. Just because I carry an anvil on the right side, doesn't mean it won't affect my left side. (Yes, I may be book smart -- despite the double negative -- but that doesn't mean I am endowed with a wealth of common sense.)

I must admit that I am (guiltily) enjoying my disability leave. The guilty part is because is I don't horribly ill (yet -- just wait for chemo) so I feel that I should be working, especially since my department has been severely cut, but the rational portion of my brain knows I need to rest and not jostle my boob and left arm. (By the way, although I am too squeamish to look at, much less take photos of, my incisions, one blogger has more fortitude. Her photo of a healthy incision is here -- the gap on my boob looks NOTHING like this, unfortunately.)

Can't remember if it was her or someone else, but it is true that in a roundabout way, my breast cancer has wrought some good things in my life:

• I am finding out how thoughtful and generous the vast majority of my friends are, and how sweet my family can be -- always a good thing to know and appreciate. And I have been touched by all of the messages of support and caring from them, my co-workers, my fellow pottery nuts, and just the genuinely nice staff at Sloan-Kettering (even the patient billing guy is nice!)
  
  
• I am getting better at listening to my body. If I am tired, or something hurts, perhaps I should, oh...go to sleep? Take a nap? Quit lifting heavy objects? (Like I said, I can be brilliant sometimes.)
  
  
• I am learning what's really important. My friends and family are important. My job is important in the sense that it gives me medical coverage (THANK GAWD!!) and helps exercise my mind, but if I get laid off, I will deal with it (though yes, the idea does give me some anxiety) and pay for COBRA with my savings. I may be a little in the hole financially at the moment, but I'll live (and believe me, cancer gives you a whole new appreciation for that phrase!) and I'll figure out a non-Madoff way of handling it. If I haven't tackled all of my mail backlog yet, hey, I've still done some, and I can do more in the days to come.
  
  So okay, I've gained 6 lbs. since the diagnosis (4 lbs. since the surgery) due to lack of exercise (I cannot tell you how much the idea of bouncing around during aerobic exercise makes me CRINGE) but eventually I'll be cleared to exercise and I'll tackle the weight issue. At least WW has trained me to eat better in general, which is always a good thing, especially as a basis for convalescence. (Which reminds me: I need to go find some anti-cancer nutrition books. Sigh.)

Basically, I have been trying not to sweat the small stuff. There's no need to beat up on myself (a lesson helpfully instilled by WW) because the chemo, radiation, surgery, and drugs will do that for me.

Speaking of chemo, the oncologist says that I will not lose all of my hair (then again, I happen to be in the 10%-20% of patients with problematic hematomas) although it will thin and/or probably fall out in patches. I try to cheer myself up with the thought that I can knit myself up a snazzy hat for my giganto head. Pattern suggestions anyone?

Warm & Fuzzy

So during the wedding, and afterward, amongst my friends, the duck cake seems to be the source of much fascination, and I can see why, since I have never seen such an accurate cake in the form of a duck. I mean, various searches on Flickr and Google for "mallard duck cake" turned up not so impressive specimens such as this one or that one but it appears that it may not be a Korean tradition in this case (mallard ducks mate for life, so it is a traditional wedding symbol in Korean households, where there is usually a pair of carved ducks somewhere in the home).

Instead, it may be part of a tradition I was not aware of (also, I generally tend to avoid wedding-related hoo-hah) known as the groom's cake (here's another duck version). The origin and customs are described by TheWeddingChannel.com (see previous link) with a hilarious picture gallery on this site. So perhaps the duck cake was actually a nod to the groom's hunting pastimes (for example, there was a photo of him during the slide whow surrounded by his dog and 10 or 12 dead pheasants). I have no idea which is the case and the bride did not explain, so this is just my librarian curiosity run amok. What can I say? Occupational hazard.

And in other (completely unrelated) news, except for the fact that it is now COLD again, my mom and I were amused by the ingenuity of a deliveryperson in her neighborhood. Note how he (and let's face it, it's usually a he) grafted warm, fuzzy mittens onto the handlebars of his bike.

Cold weather also makes me extremely fond of my pink flannel sheets, down comforter, and humidifier. Yay!

Speaking of mom, she has been calling me daily, checking to make sure that I have been as (in)active as a bump on a log, since she is convinced (and I'm not arguing) that all of my various obligations and activities have been preventing quicker healing of the coin-pocket-slot in my boob. She did grant me dispensation to go visit doctor today.

Tonight I went to go meet with the radiology oncologist (for 2 hours!) about post-surgery treatment, which now looks like it will include chemo (18 weeks, once every 3 weeks) as well as radiology (daily for 5 weeks, after the chemo ends). At least the chemo looks less arduous than the chemo that my boyfriend's dad has: mine is only 60-90 min. once every 3 weeks, but his is 48 hours every other week! The chemo will not start till at least March 13th while they wait for my incision to progress.

However, altogether, this means that I am facing an endless series of doctor visits, and treatment sessions, for the next 6 months (25 weeks min.) which kind of boggles my mind. So my friend Marci's roommate Bill (who is really a sweetie) suggested that I join Gilda's Club, named in honor of Gilda Radner, which has many resources (such as support groups) for cancer patients and their families, all free of charge.

Although I have walked past its striking red door many times, usually either on my way to and from The Film Forum, I never thought I'd be availing myself of their services, but then, I never thought that I would be diagnosed with breast cancer either. In fact, I still have kind of a problem wrapping my brain around the whole idea, and I sort of mentally shy away from the whole concept of cancer, like the way you can sort of glance sideways at the sun, but looking directly at it fries your eyeballs. It's that classic "cancer is something that happens to other people" mentality. So enlightened, I know.

Therefore, Bill's suggestion sounds sensible. Although my family and friends have been wonderful (you guys are GREAT! as my doctors keep asking, I do indeed have a fabulous support network -- you all! MWAH! MWAH!) it makes sense to speak with other breast cancer patients. Even though my Pearl of Wisdom also had breast cancer (so she really means it when she understands how I feel!) it would probably be helpful to speak to people who are also currently undergoing treatment.

As my friend Marci, and my sister both said to me tonight, they're there for me, but there are some things they just can't help me with, since they don't know what it's like eyeballing the Big C (for which I'm grateful -- I never want anyone I love to go through this, no matter how "favorable" the outlook is). So I am going to meet with someone at Gilda's Club next Thursday, as part of new member orientation.

I'm also planning on registering for the Avon Walk For Breast Cancer, a 2-day, 26-mile event which takes place in NYC in October (and other cities throughout the spring and summer). So get ready for me to hit you all up for money this summer and fall, folks (HA!) since each registrant must pledge to raise a minimum of $1,800! Yikes!

And now I leave you with this lovely closeup of one of the yellow lilies sent to me previously by my friends Sarah and Sam (see what I mean about fabu friends?) since all this blah-blah-blah verbiage deserves a pretty picture in compensation. Let's hear it for macro-focus! Yeah!

Girly-girl stuff

So yes, the wedding is now over. The scenery photos above and below are the views from the 36th floor of the Marriott overlooking the Financial District (above) and the World Financial Center & Jersey City (bottom). If you want to see other photos from the wedding itself, you can check out this album.

I am going to refrain from bitching (once again) about standing on the Brooklyn Bridge for a photo shoot in our dresses in February (okay, so I lied -- that counts, I know) but I will say that makeup artist Laura Nadeau and the hairstylist, Jennie (sorry, don't know her last name) have really made me reconsider the whole "natural look" thing.

There is, after all, a certain motivation in seeing your sweetheart with a "whoa...wow" look on their face when they see you for the first time (after 4 hours of professional hair & makeup), but damn, those eyelash curlers are scary! The trade off for watching a large contraption approaching your eyeball is having people (women -- men don't really care, I suspect) ask, "Oh, did you get false eyelashes too?" Why no, these are actually my very own lashes slathered with mascara, thanks.

Also scary is looking at my boob. On Monday, I went back to for another needle aspiration. Apparently the swelling from the hematoma was problematic enough that it was popping some of my stitches, so the doctor decided it was time to open the incision area back up.

You know when you inflate an air mattress or travel pillow and you have to deflate them afterward? When you squeeze, flatten, and press on it to expel the air? Or when you're trying to squeeze out the last bits of toothpaste from the tube? Yeah, like THAT, except with my boob. Once again, I became intensely fascinated with the ceiling tile since I certainly didn't want to watch the doctor and nurse squish out the various blood clots from my body. Yech!

They decided to leave the skin around the incision area open to help with the drainage, instead of closing it again with Steri-Strips and sent me home with a huge box of gauze pads. (The box of Jacques Torres chocolates if from my sweetie's best friend, who's really a good egg.) Presumably the internal stitches are now happier, but the outside skin area freaks me out every time I look at it (so yes, I try not to look at it ever -- except when I'm rinsing the area [oh-so-carefully] every day in the shower).

Imagine a 2-inch line of skin (a little wider than the opening of the coin pocket in a pair of blue jeans), cut open to show you the INSIDE of your body. Unlike some folks who watch medical shows on TLC, I never EVER want to see the inside of the human body, especially when it's my own! I have to admit looking at it makes me want to cry, and the first time I saw it, when the nurse showed it to me before I got dressed again on Monday, I did shriek.

The lack of progress on this incision has extended my short-term disability leave for another 2 weeks, so the earliest return to work date is now Thursday, March 5th. (It is true that the idea of having a commuter on the subway jostle me makes cringe in terror.) So I will indeed be breaking the 4-week barrier at which point my pay drops from 80% to 50%. (Ouch!)

And you can bet my mom was yelling at me for my lack of inertia (i.e., too much rushing around = too little healing) to which I responded that my various commitments are now over and I am devoting myself fully to the duties of a couch potato, which may heal my body but will rot my brain -- have you SEEN what daytime TV is like these days?!

At least the other incision over the lymph nodes (think: left underarm) is healing well. The nerves that radiate from that area (to left upper arm, and left pectoral area) are cranky however, so my meds are divided between iboprofen during the daytime, and Darvocet at night.

Okay, time to go fold laundry.

Weddings & Marriages

So this weekend is my friend the vet's wedding where I will be one of the 3 bridesmaids. I will be borrowing my sister's black chiffon evening wrap (with sequins sewn in between the 2 layers) to cover my lovely 2" scar over my former lymph nodes. I think it should go well with the dress, no?

It's an outfit from J.Crew which was on sale and came with free shipping. And now that I have lost enough weight to be in an acceptable size range for J.Crew (apparently they are not interested in garbing the less svelte women in America) this was an option. Even with post-surgery swelling, the sress fits.

Tonight is the rehearsal dinner at Delmonico, after the 5:30pm run through at Battery Gardens. Tomorrow, starting bright and early at 10:30am, is hair, makeup (with the ever fabulous Laura Nadeau who also worked on my friend Margaret's wedding last year), followed by photos. The ceremony and reception start at 6:30pm. Sunday morning (early) is the brunch, which I will be skipping, as I suspect I will be exhausted by then. (Since I have been sleeping more than my sweetie's 80 year old father, this is not an unreasonable guess.)

What can I say? I have never envied anyone their wedding. What I aspire to (and this aspiration does not involve a large bore needle, hallelujah!) is certain people's marriages. (My engineer's parents, for example, have been happily married for 54 years and still love each other very much.) I find that one does not necessarily have any relation to the other. In fact, I suspect I imagine that any married life I might be involved in would start off considerably happier (for me at least) if I used $50,000 on a down payment for a home instead of a wedding.

I realize that this is not necessarily the case for everyone but hey, different strokes for different folks, eh? (And yes, my engineer has the same point of view on such things.) It seems to be an inevitable effect of participating in someone else's wedding that one starts to think of the hypothetical, "If it was MY wedding, then I would..."

Instead, things that get me all excited (I am such a geek, I know) is the real-time monitoring of our building's laundry room. If you scroll over each machine, it will even tell you how many minutes are left on each cycle. Whee! Now THAT makes me happy.

Okay, I am off to wedding-related stuff and probably won't be back online for a few days. Hey, today's Friday the 13th! I guess this means any Valentine's Day festivities with my sweetie are pre-empted this year. Oh well.

All signs point to "yes!"

So today I went for my follow up visit to the surgeon. He gave me very good news regarding the pathology results from the tumor. He said that all of the margin areas (the extra tissue around the tumor itself) and the 4 lymph nodes (not 3) he removed showed no sign of any cancer. Hooray!

He was very pleased with the results. I was also very pleased. My friends Jackie & Marci, who were kind enough to accompany me, were also very pleased. It was just a bonanza of happy people. Heh.

We celebrated by having tea and monster-sized scones nearby at the East 64th Street location of Alice's Tea Cup. (They also have 2 other locations.) I had the organic orange ginger peach tea with the raspberry & white chocolate and apple-triple berry scones (it was a package deal) and my friends both had the pumpkin and tea-infused scones (x 2). One pair of the pumpkin and tea scones are shown above, after our attempts to eat them. Each of us took home more than half of each of our 2 scones. (urp!) All of them were moist and delicious, not at all dry & crumbly like most scones.

But back to medical stuff: since it measured over 1 cm when they removed it (1.1 cm), they will now run some genetic testing (Oncotype DX) on the tumor to see if it is the type which will respond to chemo. Yes, in the 1 month between diagnosis and surgery, it grew in diameter by 4 mm. EEK! Apparently the words "invasive" (as in: invasive ductal carcinoma, stage I) and "aggressive" were not exaggerations.

Anyway, chemotherapy is not effective against all types of cancer cells. If the results indicate yes, I get to add that to my 5-wk. radiation + 5-yr. tamoxifen cocktail. If not, just drugs and radiation treatments. The test takes 2-3 weeks to complete (on the excised tumor) and costs $2K-$3K (!) which most insurers will pay for because chemo costs $30K-$50K (!!!) so it's worth it to them to spend a few thousand to potentially save a few DOZEN grand. Yikes! (Repeat after me: thank heavens I have health insurance!)

And no radiation treatments can begin until after all of the incisions have healed (another 3-4 weeks) since radiation by definition is aimed at killing cells, not growing them.

Also today I found out why my upper left arm has been painful the past few days. Apparently the nerves near the lymph node biopsy fully "wake up" a few weeks after the surgery, so while it didn't hurt last week, I will get to enjoy the pain for the next few / several weeks. Sigh. Oh well. At least I know it's not something I did, like strain a muscle or wear irritating clothing.

Warning: icky/graphic boob & medical news ahead.

So I may or may not have previously mentioned that my breast has been swollen, bruised, and sore after the surgery. This is not so surprising, considering what went on in the operating room while I was mercifully unconscious. Looking at it kind of freaked me out since it looked so... grotesque.

Apparently, only 10% - 20% of lumpectomy patients have large hematomas (i.e., large blood clots under the skin). I am one of the lucky winners. The clotting has resulted in the swelling, which not unnaturally, was somewhat painful since it not only pulled against the stitches, but also took up more space under my skin than regular blood. (Bonus round: my period has been an unwelcome surprise visitor the past few weeks [yes, WEEKS], which as female readers may know, results in some tenderness and swelling anyway.)

The hematoma also made my boob feel truly alien, since it was not only purple and asymmetrically large (visibly so), but, well, hard -- like a baseball.

Is this what a breast implant would feel like?! I mean, when I lie down, it doesn't. (That last comment got a laugh out of the surgeon and nurse today.) Ick!

So the surgeon aspirated it today. This consisted of using a large needle to draw out about 1/4 cup of clotted blood. Since the clots didn't cooperate much, this resulted in (a) him squeezing the relevant tissue area (you know how you use a juicer to extract orange juice? yeah, like that. FUN. not.) and (b) another appointment this coming Monday for more aspiration. The aspiration did relieve the swelling somewhat though, so things are less painful & sore. Yay!

I studiously avoided looking at what he was doing during this entire process, however, as needles freak me out at the best of times, never mind when large ones are being jabbed into me. Has anyone noticed how fascinating ceiling tiles are, when one is properly motivated?

Okay. It's safe to read again.

In work related news, I found out that they laid off several folks in our division yesterday. Since we've been transferred to a different unit of the company, their jobs were redundant as they performed finance, IT, and admin functions. So far, our department has been spared, as we perform specialty functions, but we're still under evaluation, so I'm just hoping nothing major happens for another 3 months (i.e., until after I finish the radiation).

And my boss has been great throughout all of this. Since there is a nasty flu/virus making the rounds at the office, and since I am still so wiped out, we agreed that I should take the rest of this week off as well. The tentative plan is for me to return to the office on Tuesday, after the holiday.

In flower news, the lilies from my friends Sarah and Sam have kept on blooming vigorously all week, while kindly remaining fragrance free. See?

And this weekend, we went down to visit my engineer's parents. (By the way, have I mentioned how calm and supportive he's been during all of this? He's been FABULOSO! Thanking my stars daily that I did NOT accept the transfer to HK last year, for oh so many reasons: physical, financial, and psychological.)

His mom makes an annual Chinese New Year's feast, which she kindly put off this year due to my surgery. (My sweetie's mom is a sweetie herself.) Due to his dad's weekly chemo treatments, we were able to persuade her to make fewer dishes this year. By fewer, it means one dozen dishes instead of TWO dozen. I took a few photos (these photos by no means show everything she made & fed us!) and she gave me a care package for my mom. :-) [My mom also likes his mom. It's a lovefest all around! Yippee!] This is separate from the Chinese New Year duckfest I had with some friends on the actual date itself (1/26).

Okay, time to go see which doggie wins this year's Westminster Kennel Club dog show. I find watching the frou frou grooming vastly entertaining, especially when some of the smaller dogs look like they're levitating, since you can't see their legs under their meticulously styled fur.

$800 richer!

The cable guy fixed the TV!

Hooray!

I don't need to buy a new one!

Yippee!!

I feel like a dummy: I had accidentally switched some settings (duh).

Oops...

To celebrate, I will go wash the dishes and prepare dinner for tonight's knitting klatch: crispy cornflake chicken (baked, not fried), sauteed veggies, and biscotti (flavor to be determined) with some monster pumelo slices on the side. (That is a 1.5 liter water bottle for scale, by the way.)

Pumelo is a mutant grapefruit variant, which is less acidic and goes for $4-$6 each in Chinatown, and who knows how much at Whole Foods. They each weigh a minimum of 3 lbs. Yes, THREE POUNDS.

Mom sent me home with 2 pumelos, since her friend gave me two as a get well gift, along with an entire beef shank! (It could fill up an entire rice cooker!) Mmmm....Mom's beef soup...!

Sunny delight

Look at Sarah & Sam's flowers! Isn't it kind of freaky (but cool) how cut flowers can still keep blossoming?

Now where was I?

Oh yes, coming to in the recovery room -- well, I will spare you all the unhappy details of recovering from anesthesia. Those of you who have, don't want to revisit, I'm sure. And those of you who haven't, no need to share the laughter and the joy. Let's just put it this way: green is not just the color of my healing bruises, ok?

Yes, I will just sum up my recent discoveries this way:

• my skin was blue from the radioactive dye for a day or two -- ack!
  
  
• my um, left upper quadrant, is still swollen -- though no longer scarily so -- and bruised (just think: this is what it's supposed to look like!) so since it unnerves to see what my body looks like there, I try to avoid looking at it except twice a day, when I change into/out of my jammies
  
  
• there are now two 2" incisions from the surgery, one on my left boob (thank gawd I'm right handed!) and one an inch below my left armpit, which leads me to my next comment...
  
  
• I am discovering just how many actions involve my left arm & pecs: walking, sitting up, lying down, rolling over in bed, reaching, putting things down, picking things up, knitting -- you get the idea (ow, ow, ow...)
  
  
• yes, this also limits my knitting a bit, alas, but since I had limited reading materials and only basic cable at mom's, I was able to finish the following projects:
  

1. a pumpkin hat for a baby (my fellow Princetonian alums, watch out: I have finally found a use for the bundles of extra orange yarn from the Harf! buwahahaha! oh, and also for the leftover green Lion Cotton from the baby reefer jacket)
   
   
2. the garter cardi I started with the wonderfully fluffy (machine washable!) Gedifra yarn I bought on eBay. This is for the co-worker whose baby outgrew the sweater I originally knit for her, during her maternity leave.

Here she is, wearing my "I.O.U." apple hat. Isn't she a cutie?

Oops! The cable guy's here. Gotta run.

I will just leave you all with a shot of my belated birthday cake last month, which my sister made (did I post this already?) Yummmmm...

Home sweet home

Hooray for home!

I love my mom (when she's not driving me crazy -- part of her job description, I know) but after a week away, I am glad to be back in my own apartment, revoltingly messy as it is, though it is brightened up greatly by the flowers which awaited me from my friends Sarah and Sam. (Thanks, guys! The arrangement is pretty and looks to bloom shortly, see?)

Actually, mom & I got along surprisingly well this past week. We watched lots of Food Network (and I could tell I wasn't feeling like myself because my reactions to the shows were along the lines of "that recipe looks interesting -- I'll have to try it sometime" rather than "Hungry! NOW!") and chatted about knitting, our family, my engineer, his family, and my upcoming treatment, when I wasn't sleeping for 8 or 9 hours at a stretch.

Speaking of sleeping, I plan to go get reacquainted with my fluffy flannel sheets shortly, but wanted to update y'all on recent events. (Apologies in advance to the guys who are reading this for the graphic boob discussions to follow -- will try to be at least somewhat discreet, since I'm not one of those let-it-all-hang-out chicks.)

My surgery Friday went well but it was a long, loooong day.

[Note: re-reading this post, it occurs to me that I should tell everyone now:
cancer go bye-bye! not in the sentinel lymph nodes -- hooray!]


7:50 am -
For once in my life I arrived VERY early (40 min. prior to my 8:30 check in), met my sweetie there, and changed into the oh-so-glam hospital gown, robe, and non-skid socks which I wore for the next 9 hours. (Soooo sexy, dunno how my engineer kept his hands off me -- not.)

My sister could not pick me up as planned, since the early appt. time would have left my brother-in-law alone in the house for 2 hours prior to his daily pick up by River House, and nobody wanted that. (My older niece & her younger son would go have dinner with him, since he would be home before my sister came back from the hospital.)

8:15 am -
Started reading my trashy paperback thriller from the library as I waited in the pre-surgery room to get my IV put in, blood pressure taken, etc. I think I was back in the waiting room by 9ish.

10:00 am -
The multiple morning mammograms were eventually eased by the arrival of lidocaine (YES! let's hear it for painkillers!) prior to the insertion of a wire to guide the surgeon. (Why can't we always get lido before a mammo, I ask you?! Imagine an extremely delicate part of one's anatomy being squashed like a panini sandwich. Repeatedly.) And no, I didn't look while I was being "threaded" which was just as well, since I discovered wire + mammo = bloody imprints on machine. Ick.

11:00 am -
The hospital called my engineer on his cell to let us know that my surgery was being pushed back from 1:00 to 2:15, at which point I told him and my sister to go to lunch at noon: there was no point in ALL of us being hungry. By this point I was 2/3 of the way through my trashy thriller, Bloodline.

2:15 pm -
After all of the waiting (in the mercifully TV-free waiting area) when the surgical nurse came to get me, I practically leapt into her arms and gave my glasses to my sweetie. Since this left me practically legally blind,
(a) I took her arm as we shuffled down the hall, and
(b) the surgeon was very amused when I informed him that all I could see was that he was some white guy.

I asked the 2 nurses whether the blue terrycloth socks (with non-skid rubber stripes) reminded them more of Grover or Cookie Monster, a thought I had been contemplating all day. They both promptly replied "Grover!" (Evidently I was not the only person to ask this question.) The anesthesiologist introduced himself and...

4:30 pm -
I woke up in the recovery room and thought:
(1) "Oh, I guess the surgery is done"
(2) "uh... thirsty" and
(3) "Ow! Want. Painkillers. NOW."

My doctor magically appeared, assured me that the cancer had NOT spread to the lymph nodes [HALLELUJAH!] smiled at me at left.

To be continued... I have a date with some pink flannel sheets.

For now, I leave you all with the pretty tulips my sweetie brought for me & my mom on Saturday. :-)