Thursday, October 27, 2011

What do VACUUMS and HONEYBEES have in common?


ME!

Well, thank God for honey bees. Specifically bees from New Zealand and Australia who feed on Manuka and Jellybush. It seems their honey has special properties that aid in healing stubborn or deep wounds.


You'll remember that I originally had surgery to remove Herschel (the rat bastard) on 6/28.  A week later, I had another surgery to remove more tissue to ensure that we had "clean margins".  And then on 9/9 a massive infection sent me to the hospital for five days.  That infection wasn't cleared and resurfaced on 10/9.  The surgeon said the best method of cleaning it up was aggressive.  And I went back into surgery on 10/14 to reopen and flush the wound.  I was sent home with a wound vac and home care nursing three times a week.

Yesterday was my surgical followup visit and a dressing change from an MDA wound care nurse. The day of surgery, the surgeon said she removed a lot of damaged tissue and scar tissue but we really didn't talk about the dimensions of my wound or go into great length on the process of the wound vac. It didn't matter .. it had to be done. Now I know it was wise not to disclose all the gory details as I might just run for the hills!

My home care nurses measure my wound each visit but every Monday, Wednesday and Friday it seemed things were enlarging, not shrinking, as is the plan. But yesterday I found out that my surgeon had created the "tunnel" to remove scar tissue to the depth of 11 centimeters. (That's nearly 4.5 inches for those of us stuck with the ruler we grew up with.)  Yesterday, the nurse measured this tunnel at 8.2 centimeters so are ARE making progress.




My wound measurements yesterday were 2.5" long x 1' wide x 1.75" deep. This is the wound that runs from 1 o'clock to 4 o'clock on the outer perimeter and, within this, the "tunnel" runs behind the nipple for 3.25 inches. All of these openings are stuffed with sponges and dressed with a clear bandage that is perforated and then attached to a vacuum (small ouch) which not only pulls the tissues together and increases circulation, it removes excess fluids that might inhibit clean healing. Been THERE, done THAT .. don't want to go there again.

Three times a week a nurse comes to remove the dressing, detaches the vacuum and goes in after the sponges. I won't lie to you, it is the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Even pre-medicating with pain meds doesn't do much. But yesterday, the wound nurse put lidocaine on a swab and inserted it in the deepest part of the wound for 30 minutes before attempting to re-dress. And she used a different packing material - softer, more pliable and moist. And (and this is the really cool part), she added "Medihoney" to the sponges. I remember reading about the healing properties of honey but the idea of bees in New Zealand and Australia aiding in MY healing process really turns me on. 

Not much else does these days, I admit. I'm so tired of being tired and the idea of going through all this pain with no real evidence of healing was extremely discouraging. Finding out yesterday that the "tunnel" had actually been deeper only two weeks ago changed my attitude significantly. I can do this .. I CAN do this.

Would I be going through all this if there hadn't been a MRSA infection? No. Should I have been more forceful in discussing the initial swelling and inflammation with my surgeon? Possibly. Does everything happen for a reason. Yep. 

I am as sick of talking about this as you are of hearing about it. I'm supposed to be WELL by now (my time frame - no one elses!) I completed all my cancer treatments and followed every doctor's order. But it is what it is and if this little blog helps someone else here on Planet Earth, then I have accomplished my goal in sharing my experience. I guess it's not over till the fat lady sings. Stay tuned ..


Sunday, October 16, 2011

An Anniversary Of Sorts ...

A year ago today my life took a bit of a left turn here on The Dirt Road. I found the lump in my breast that would later be named "Herschel". All very timely considering it was "Breast Cancer Awareness month".  And only a couple of days after my beloved country doc adamantly suggested I get my first mammogram behind me. After all, I was 53 and overdue for a baseline.

All that and some angelic voices in my ear told me to check myself in the shower that day. And when there was no denying the presence of some unwelcome "thing" in my breast, I took the first step on this journey. Clearly, I was anxious as indicated by my blog posts  "Waxing Gibbous" and "Behind every cloud". I knew I had a hard year ahead of me but it hasn't been all bad.


But, here, on January 7th, just two days after my first chemo treatment, you can see all the fear in my eyes. I need not have worried. God took care of me all along the way. He opened doors and created blessings I could never have imagined on my own. I found out a lot things about myself, my marriage, my precious family, my community, my faith.

Some of life's experiences had taught me to be mistrustful.  I had to learn to let go and depend on others.  There was no way I could shoulder this all on my own and I was humbled by the number of people willing to help me share this experience.  Never, ever doubt the power of these five words:  "I am praying for you."  Whatever your beliefs are, to know that someone has petitioned God's ear on your behalf is so comforting, so encouraging and so very necessary when you realize you can't fix what is wrong.  But He can.


Sixteen chemo treatments, three surgeries, 30 radiation treatments and one unexpected hospital stay are now behind me.  As I write this, I am wearing a "wound vac" to hopefully rid my body of any and all infection that  has been my nemesis for the last month.  I am so grateful that I live in an age of antibiotics and the technology that has created a cure for me.  I'm grateful for all the years my doctors and nurses and technicians spent studying for their professions.   I'm grateful for the funding that provided my care - every penny of it.  All this and a thousand other things, I am grateful for.


Cancer is not a death sentence.  For me it has been a strange, unexpected, difficult, often nerve wracking, disturbing gift.   Now that I am on this side of it, I can appreciate how it has fine tuned my life, deepened my love, increased my faith and sharpened my vision.  I might be a little worse for the wear, but I wouldn't change places with anybody!


Even if my hair is trying to be curly!

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Drum Roll .......

Last Radiation Treatment
Greetings from this side of cancer treatment! It's been a while, I know, but for the longest time there just wasn't much to tell. Still, I felt I should post something just to let you know that I haven't run off to join the circus. Not that it hasn't crossed my mind.
To recap, I had surgery to remove my much-reduced tumor on June 28th and then a second surgery to acquire a proper cancer-free margin on July 8th. Surgery was not bad and the most discomfort I felt was from my lymph node dissection incision that took up most of my arm pit. My surgeon was pleased with the results and set me up to start radiation on August 8th. After the "marking" session (my last post), I started treatment on the 9th and was scheduled for thirty daily radiation treatments over six weeks.
The radiation itself was painless. The only discomfort I felt was stretching those tender tissues under my arm to get into the required "Hollywood" pose which exposed both incisions (lymph node and breast) to the probing eye of the radiation machine. Everything was rocking along nicely for a couple of weeks when I realized I felt something new in my left breast. Not pain. There was some swelling which I attributed to surgery and healing and some feeling of fullness, but no pain. Still, on August 15th I mentioned it to Dr. S. during our weekly Monday visits.
Darlene & Dr. S.
She immediately pulled up an image that showed a large volume of fluid that had accumulated in my left breast. She told me I had a seroma and that I should see my surgeon to have it drained. So, obedient soul that I am ... I made an appointment to see Dr B. on August 24th.
Dr. B's assistant told me via telephone that the doctor's philosophy on seromas was to let nature take its course. Removing a tumor created a void that the body wanted to fill, and in this case, with fluid. Removing the fluid not only risked introducing an infection, it also set the body up to refill the void. She said this was a normal reaction to surgery and that unless I started having pain, a fever or if the seroma interfered with radiation, she would just let things be. And, August 24th, those were all the things that Dr. B. stated. It was no big deal unless there was pain or fever. Okey dokey then.
For the next two weeks I watched my breast grow larger wondering if there was a maximum capacity before the body would finally relent and suck all this fluid back up. We made jokes at radiation about "Mt. Biggietata" and while I was uncomfortable .. I still couldn't say I was in pain. Not really.
But that all changed on Sept. 9th. I woke up feeling like I had the flu. Weak, feverish and just plain yucky. I had an appointment before radiation with the physical therapist but she realized I wasn't feeling well, and cut her evaluation short. I asked the nurse to check my temp and, sure enough, I had a fever of 101 degrees. After radiation, Ashley came to pick me up as I had driven myself and neither of us felt I was well enough to drive back to her house. I went to bed immediately and slept all afternoon. Dave arrived (presumably to take me home for the weekend) and I barely noticed. Ashley (God love her!) was in contact with my radiologist's office all afternoon and when my temperature spiked at almost 104 degrees, Dr. S. told her she should take me to M. D. Anderson's ER immediately.
I was so sick I didn't care what they did to me. I had 97 blood draws (give or take), a very painful ultrasound and a chest x-ray. Twelve hours after arriving, I was admitted. Ash never left my side. I was told my surgeon was out of town but that my infected seroma would be drained by MDA staff in her absence. But, upon landing back in Houston, my surgeon checked her emails, saw that I was admitted and called to halt the drain. She stopped by to see me before even going home from the airport. Despite my fever and symptoms, she still wasn't convinced I had a breast infection and wanted to continue the IV antibiotics while she searched for the true culprit.
Sunday, she came back to see me and again on Monday morning when I finally told her I had reached my tolerance level. My breast was huge, red, hot to the touch and clearly infected. She agreed to drain it that afternoon and, as promised arrived with a resident to do just that at 4:30 pm.
I spare you the details, but I will tell you this: the catheter they inserted (ouch!) was a quarter or less in diameter of a soda straw. In less than a minute, I drained over 13 ounces of disgusting fluid. Within 24 hours .. I had drained over 20 ounces. The relief I felt was immediate and I knew I was on my way to recovery.
I was hospitalized for five days and the culture of my infection confirmed that it was MRSA - a staph infection that used to be highly resistant to the usual antibiotics but that now, thankfully, is treated easily with oral antibiotics. Still, it's a highly contagious infection and required stringent gowning and gloving and isolation procedures. I completed my antibiotics and will get a nasal swab at my next appointment to be sure that I am MRSA free so that it can been expunged (truly!) from my medical record. I swear - I feel like a biological felon!
So, as soon as I was released from the hospital, I had to go right back to radiation and, of course, they had to take extra precautions due to my infected, nasty state. It was all very humiliating but we all laughed through it. My radiation fairies, Karrie and Sajan, were just awesome. So was my nurse, Laura. She went above and beyond the call of duty.
Karrie, Darlene, Sajan & Laura
Ringing the bell!
Ringing the bell with Molly & Trey
Despite the set back from the infection, I completed radiation (and rang the bell!) on September 23rd. I still have the drain but hope to have it removed this week as I am now draining less than an ounce per day. Of course, the week after I finished radiation treatment I hoped to get my life back. On Monday. Morning. When my feet hit the floor ... Instead, I was weak and sleepy and useless the whole week.
The last five radiation treatments are called "The Boost". They are super-charged, highly focused intense beams that, apparently, pull the plug on whatever energy you have managed to hold on to. Getting my life back, regaining any stamina and feeling "normal" was clearly going to take some time.
More time.
And so, here we are ... chemo, surgery and radiation are all behind me. All that is left now are the routine visits for blood work, CT scans, x-rays, ultra sounds and mammograms that will confirm I am cancer free and, ultimately, alert my docs to any recurrance. I'll have to take an estrogen blocker for five years as my tumor was estrogen responsive. I will likely start that in mid-October when have my next appointments for bloodwork, CT scan and x-ray and then, the following day, see my oncologist for the "all clear" report that I am so sure will come.
So, I guess that just about wraps this up!
I'll check in from time to time when there is something to tell .. or to record some major epiphany I've had regarding my cancer experience. I know you won't want to miss that!
Till then, I will close with this:
I can't imagine having this experience without the loving support of my husband, Dave. He has been on guard, side-by-side, and holding my hand through almost every single experience. He brought cold rags, chicken noodle soup, laughter and those premium, grade A hugs that only he can give. When he couldn't be there Ashley, my beautiful girl, took up all the slack and then some. During radiation, she provided a beautiful, comfortable room for me in her home, the boundless entertainment of Trey and Molly, the awesome breakfast creations (and jalapeno tuna!) made by Chef Hooch, "ice cones", encouragement, transporation, love and ICE CREAM SANDWICHES. Dave's aunt and uncle generously provided many overnights at their home for us (and Maggie!) during my chemo phase.  Dave and I will always be grateful for our family and friends who have been a constant, abiding source of encouragement, love, prayers, giggles and kicks in the pants when I needed them. I know I will be grateful until the day I die ... like, in forty years or so. (Smile.)
Herschel, who?
Molly & Papa Dave
The End