mastectomy – Page 4 – beatingcowdens

This one’s for you Mom – HAPPY SWEET 16!

Published on February 24, 2013February 24, 2013 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

This one’s for you Mom.

My Mom doesn’t have Cowden’s Syndrome. The tests confirmed that.

What she does have is strength, stamina, and courage unrivaled by most. She is a tough cookie. An inspiration with her determination. Not once throughout her life have I ever known her to give up.

Mom is a survivor.

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was a survivor of life.

She survived a divorce, two jobs, and raising 2 kids alone – with the help of my grandparents.

She survived sleepless nights, and worry.

She battled for her kids- fought doctors, insurance companies and the like. And, she even battled with us on occasion… If you can imagine that!

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was my Mom. And she taught some valuable lessons I still use today.

(My sister posted the other day that “Some days I open my mouth and my mother comes out!”)

These are her words coming out of me these days….

But God is good - all the time! — But God is good – all the time!

And….

I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!

When my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 23. I was scared. She might have been scared, but she attacked it with her “matter of fact” attitude that I think is what has gotten her so far.

She went for her first mastectomy on February 24th of 1997. She was just 48. The second mastectomy followed in April when cancer was found in the other breast. 6 months of chemo followed. 5 years of Tamoxifen followed that.

And she just kept right on going. Even though some days she felt like this…

Truth be told, maybe we all did. But I did what I could to help out with her, around the house, and with my little sister. I was really just amazed by her drive. But I think I still am.

Last year when I was scheduled for my mastectomy, the surgeon asked me who had been with my mother during hers. I told her my dad and I had. She said, “Well call mom and tell her its time to return the favor.”

I called her on the ride home and although I can’t imagine it was an easy call to take. She never flinched. She took the week off that I had the surgery (a HUGE compliment from someone who sparsely misses a day of work.) My recovery went so smoothly. And I had some of the best conversations of my life with Mom that week.

When my pathology returned DCIS, she was the first one I called. Neither of us were surprised. And, yet her reassuring words, that she knew I had “done the right thing,” gave me such peace.

Before Mom was diagnosed she dreaded turning 50. After all she had been through she embraced 50 with grace and charm, and a few years ago gave 60 a great big hug.

Mom's 64th birthday - and 4 generations of tough ladies! — Mom’s 64th birthday – and 4 generations of tough ladies!

This is a picture from her 64th birthday a few weeks ago.

My mom may not be like everyone else’s. She can be a tough lady. She hasn’t had an easy life. But she has a heart of gold. And I love her for who she is.

As I grow I realize everyone does the best they can with what they have where they are.

I am thankful – so thankful – for these last 16 years with my Mom. I am grateful she got to know my daughter. I look forward to having her around for a long time.

A mother bonds with all her children, and she is close with my sisters – differently than how we are close. That’s what makes each relationship special.

We share some things that can’t be put into words…

Just past the finish line. Aren't we "Pretty in Pink?" :-) — Just past the finish line. Aren’t we “Pretty in Pink?” 🙂

She will always be my friend. I hope she knows just how much she is loved.

Happy Start to your 16th year - CANCER FREE! — Happy Start to your 16th year – CANCER FREE!

Don’t talk about my boobs unless you’ve walked in my shoes

Published on January 27, 2013January 27, 2013 by beatingcowdens19 Comments

“Breast cancer becomes very emotional for people, and they view a breast differently than an arm or a required body part that you use every day,” said Sarah T. Hawley, an associate professor of internal medicine at the University of Michigan. “Women feel like it’s a body part over which they totally have a choice, and they say, ‘I want to put this behind me — I don’t want to worry about it anymore.’ ”

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/01/21/facing-cancer-a-stark-choice/

The quote above is the last paragraph from a New York Times article published January 21st. I first read about it here in this blog

Preventative mastectomies under fire

And I must agree with “The Pink Underbelly” as my blood is boiling a bit.

I underwent a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy on March 5, 2012. I had been diagnosed with Cowden’s Syndrome, alongside my 8 year old daughter, just months before. I was presented, in January of 2012 with an article putting my lifetime breast cancer risk somewhere around 85%. Cowden’s Syndrome, as you all know – but I doubt the author of this article knew, is a rare genetic disorder with a 1 in 200,000 occurrence. It is a mutation on the PTEN (Tumor Suppressor) gene and causes benign and malignant tumors all over the body – with the hot spots being the breasts, uterus, and thyroid.

I made an informed decision to undergo that mastectomy. It was not a decision reached lightly. My mom is a BILATERAL breast cancer survivor, and even though she does not carry my genetic mutation, I will always believe that her decision for a complete mastectomy is the reason she is with us today – the reason she ever got to meet her grandchildren.

That doesn’t even get me started on the fact that my “prophylactic” mastectomy revealed DCIS – stage 1, a centimeter of cancer in the left breast. Yes, it was contained. No, it hadn’t spread. Yes, I was fortunate, and NO, it WAS NOT the breast that had seen 7 biopsies in the 12 years prior. This one had never been touched. And, the MRI weeks earlier did not pick up the DCIS. So, my informed decision. My smart surgeon. My gifted plastic surgeon. My husband’s support. The support of my boss. The sick days donated from a friend. My raw nerve. My desire to be there for my little girl for years and years to come. The Grace of God. All these things saved my life.

So, I get a little twisted when people infer, and imply that these are decisions made lightly. That women are just randomly having their breasts cut off. This was not a trip to Hawaii. This was not a walk in the park. This was major league, life altering, body changing surgery. There is not a woman I know, who makes this decision without intense scrutiny and research. And, thanks to this blog, and my online support group. I have “met” many of them.

This article says

“We are confronting almost an epidemic of prophylactic mastectomy,” said Dr. Isabelle Bedrosian, a surgical oncologist at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. “I think the medical community has taken notice. We don’t have data that say oncologically this is a necessity, so why are women making this choice?”

EPIDEMIC- affecting or tending to affect a disproportionately large number of individuals within a population, community, or region at the same time <typhoid was epidemic>

Really?

and WHY?

Why not ask us?

Why not ask those of us that have lost mothers and grandmothers and sisters to genetic mutations?

Why not ask those of us who have had countless mamorgrams, MRIs and biopsies, with “suspicious” pathology?

Why not ask us, who have done the research, or read the research on diseases you haven’t even heard of?

Why not ask those of us who, facing our imminent cancer risks, have made a choice to LIVE?

So the article says:

“You’re not going to find other organs that people cut out of their bodies because they’re worried about disease,” said the medical historian Dr. Barron H. Lerner, author of “The Breast Cancer Wars” (2001). “Because breast cancer is a disease that is so emotionally charged and gets so much attention, I think at times women feel almost obligated to be as proactive as possible — that’s the culture of breast cancer.”

Damned right Barron. Proactive. We have kids to raise. Spouses to celebrate life with. Memories to make. Tears to dry. Hands to hold. Lives to live.

Emotionally charged? You bet.

Come by.

We’ll have some coffee.

Then I will tell you about my prophylactic hysterectomy. Reccomended by a top surgeon at NYU. Ten weeks after my mastectomy. Not an easy choice. Certainly not one made on emotion.

Logic. Try logic. And gratitude that the tools exist, and the surgeons exist that are willing to save our lives.

Don’t talk about my boobs until you have walked in my shoes!

Reblogged, and worth the read

Published on January 26, 2013January 26, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

Sometimes you read a story that just needs to be retold.

This link will take you to the world of a young lady I “met” through my blog and have come to respect.

She does not share my same genetic mutation, hers is the BRA-CA gene, and mine is PTEN. But the breast cancer risks are ridiculous for both, and she bravely as a young twenty something, underwent a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.

In a rare request, she is asking for help, and I certainly feel compelled to share her reasonable request.

It is through social media that I have come to find others “like us,” to share mine and Meghan‘s story of our Cowden’s Syndrome battle. Without that outlet, I would feel incredibly lonely.

Please take a moment to read Rachel’s story, and another to respond to her request.

This world of genetic predisposition is terrifying, and should not be traveled alone.

Lori

Ticking Time Bombs

My mom is a member of the Los Angeles Pink Dragons, a dragon boat racing team of breast cancer survivors. She has been paddling with the Pinks for about a year now. Last night, one of her teammates passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. Frances was my mom’s benchmate on the boat. On the Pink Dragons’ Facebook page, Mom writes: “Frances, your courage and determination was an inspiration to all of us. Your teammates will miss you so. Rest in peace, dear friend.”

Then scrolling down through my Facebook newsfeed, I was accosted by another heartwrenching message, this one from Bright Pink founder Lindsay Avner: “My heart breaks upon learning of the loss of Rebecca, a member of the Bright Pink Vermont family, who lost her battle to breast cancer at only 29 years old.”

29 years old.

Frances and Rebecca’s deaths are…

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Prayer Circle

Published on January 7, 2013January 7, 2013 by beatingcowdens14 Comments

There are a lot of people who pray for Meghan. And we are grateful for every single one of them. But, there are a special group of ladies…

Well, between them they have 9 children – 3 each. They all have incredibly busy lives, and all of our lives connected some years ago. We don’t see each other all that often, and rarely in the same place, but they are my prayer group of sorts. Our children are connected, in a bunch of different ways. Our lives are intertwined, and we have vowed to support each other.

We all seem to share the belief that –

And, with that belief comes responsibility.

So, they were among the first people I shared my blog with in its infancy last year. They are the ones I turn to and say… lift this up… PLEASE, and without fail it is done. And they do the same for me. We all pray fervently for each other. For friends, and family. For people we know well, and for people we haven’t met, and for people we may never meet.

We pray because we believe it works.

We pray because we have seen it work.

Last spring when my sister’s dear niece was knocking on death’s door – felled by a virus of unimaginable strength, we (along with countless others) prayed. And we witnessed nothing short of a miracle.

The day of my mastectomy, wracked with fear – terror actually – my cell phone rang as I was checking into the hospital. My brother-in-law, a Lutheran minister was on the phone at 6AM, ready to pray with me. As the tears rushed down my face I felt the calm envelop me.

Prayer is powerful.

But, it doesn’t always take worry away.

So tonight, as I struggle to sleep, I will think of them with gratitude. I will also think of the countless others – those we know and those we don’t, who are lifting my little girl up in prayer.

Tomorrow we go for the biopsy. Then we wait. I am not sure which part we will need your prayers for most. But, please – whatever you believe, remember us this week…

Lessons Learned in 2012

Published on December 31, 2012December 31, 2012 by beatingcowdens9 Comments

What a year! Just months after our diagnosis of Cowden’s Syndrome in the fall of 2011, Meghan and I took on 2012 completely unsure what to expect. As a matter of fact this very week last year, I was anxiously awaiting word on her thyroid biopsy slides that I had had transferred to a new hospital. Ironic that I sit tonight, waiting to hear when the next thyroid biopsy will be. The more things change…

In 2012…

I lost the ability to say, “I can’t.” Instead I gained “Nerves of Steel” attacking this syndrome head on.

I lost my self pity and gained determination watching my daughter start her own awareness campaigns.

I lost my fear of driving on highways and in big cities. Now I navigate NYC like a (cautious) professional, and even venture to hospitals in NJ and Boston.

I lost my fear of ridiculously large medical bills. Instead I get to them when I can, knowing in most cases they are fortunately not mine to pay anyway.

I lost about 3 more sizes, and have finally settled into clothes that fit.

I lost my muscle tone, as wild days kept exercising at bay.

I lost sleep, and more of my brown hair to gray as worrying kept me up many nights.

I lost my breasts in a bilateral mastectomy, but replaced them with perky new silicone ones, and with that…

I lost my fear of breast cancer and those ridiculous breast MRIs!

I lost my feeling of loneliness after my surgery when I got to spend a week chatting it up with my Mom.

I lost some of my close friends, who understandably tire of hearing me repeat the same stories without resolution, but I gained an incredible online support “family,” through Facebook, through PTEN world, and through my blog.

I lost that sense that we are alone at this battle against Cowden’s Syndrome, and I gained a deeper appreciation for the friends that call, message, and connect me to organizations like NORD, and the Global Genes Project.

I lost my uterus, and my ovaries, but I was done with them anyway, and I gained permanent birth control and instant hot flashes!

I lost one of my Grandpas who I know I was so lucky to have for so long, but whose loss is felt deeply.

I lost my old cell phone, and finally traded it in for a “smart” phone.

I lost my old church, for reasons that still break my heart, but my family has been welcomed home at a new church where we are still marveling in God’s mercy and grace.

I lost my negative attitude about Staten Islanders when I watched my friends and neighbors rally to help the victims of “Superstorm Sandy.”

I lost my car in a ridiculous accident, but this week replaced it with a 2013 Hyundai Sonata.

I lost the way I sometimes took my grandparents for granted after Grandma Edith fell this fall. I always loved them with all my heart, but I will remember how lucky I am each and every day.

Family shot in front of the New Year's Eve Ball. — Family shot in front of the New Year’s Eve Ball.

In 2012 I gained tools I will use every day as I move forward.

I gained…

Determination – that we will beat this!

Focus- on what matters most.

Perspective- that everyone suffers.

Forgiveness- because negativity hurts me more than them.

Gratitude- for the kindness of family, friends, and strangers.

Compassion- as I watched my little girl continuously open her heart to others.

2012 had plenty of hard times, but like my car, it was far from a “total loss.”

Here’s to the lessons to be learned in 2013.

Wishing you all health and happiness!

“More Birthdays”

Published on October 21, 2012 by beatingcowdens5 Comments

I get it. Sometimes it takes a bit – but I get it now.

I mean, I understood in theory what the American Cancer Society meant when they came out with this slogan, but today it really hit me.

Today was it – the “take two” for my little girl who was shut out of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in September because of a fever. This was her chance to walk with Mom and Grandma. She even got the added bonus of having Dad with us this morning.

Living where we do, an event like this seems to bring out just about everyone, and it was hard to take two steps without bumping into someone we knew. It was also almost impossible to look anywhere and NOT see one of those pink survivor sashes. I saw them on women of ALL ages – from the frighteningly young, to the admirably old, and it got me thinking.

More birthdays…

Before my mom had her cancer, she could have sometimes been caught cringing at the sound of “50.” After a double mastectomy, 6 months of chemo, and in the middle of 5 years of tamoxifen – she embraced 50 with a smile, and slid gracefully past 60. “Beats the alternative,” she often says.

More birthdays…

We waited with a group from Meghan’s school for a while, and it was hard not to read some of the “team” T-shirts. A large group gathered right next to us was commemorating a young lady who apparently died of breast cancer in 1994. Her birthdate was listed as 1971. What her family probably would have done for more birthdays. I can’t even imagine…

More birthdays…

As I stood there, I thought about the “previvors” I have “met” on the internet and from this blog. They have courage of a type no other can quite get. The courage to undergo a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy is not to be understated. I am impressed at the maturity of the very young, and the wisdom of those closer to my own age. But, I was struck, somewhere in between the quick math that left me knowing the young lady on the T-shirt had been 23 when she died of breast cancer in 1994, and that my own girl will be 23 in 14 years. Suddenly it didn’t seem that long, and I was afraid.

More birthdays…

My little girl will grow to be 95 I reassured myself. With the power and knowledge we have – she will know lots more birthdays. But the reality that my mom had cancer at 48, and I had it at 38, and the current screening recommendations are to screen 10 years before your closest relative had the disease, well – it made it hard to breathe for a few minutes. Then my husband reminded me that she has ALREADY been screened – twice. We will be vigilant.

More birthdays…

And then I thought about my own. I will turn 39 next month. That is the age some people like to stay at forever. NOT ME! I want MORE BIRTHDAYS!

Meghan1990 — My beautiful cousin Meghan died of Leukemia in 1991, on my 18th birthday.

More birthdays….

My cousin Meghan was a brave soul. She was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was 2. She fought for 4 years before the disease took her from us. She got her wings the day I turned 18, and every birthday since then has been bittersweet. We had a connection that I still find it difficult to describe. My love for her was deep enough, that I needed to name my daughter for our “Angel Meghan.” Meghan did not have enough birthdays. This may be the year that I look at mine a little differently. Maybe its time to use my birthday as a time to celebrate BOTH of our lives.

More birthdays…

We left the walk a little early this morning. We had to head out to Long Island. My nephew Luke was celebrating his 9th birthday today. And as the kids played, and the candles got blown out on the cake, I found myself really sure that I understood. As my sister said just an hour or so ago… It’s not about the gifts. It’s about the people you celebrate with. We celebrated Luke’s birthday with 3 GREAT grandparents, and 4 of his grandparents. It’s easy to fight for more birthdays when you are this blessed.

I get it…

Cowden’s Syndrome took…

Published on October 3, 2012October 3, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

Well, it took my thyroid, or at least any functioning part, long before I knew why.

It took my boobs in the prophylactic mastectomy that wasn’t so much prophylactic.

Cowden’s Syndrome took my uterus. But I didn’t need it anyway.

It took my ovaries, but it gave me hot flashes in return. Fair trade?

Cowden’s Syndrome took my checkbook, and used it for copays, and parking lots.

It took my calendar – and filled it with all sorts of places I didn’t want to be.

Cowden’s Syndrome took away my peace of mind, and filled it with worry. (OK, MORE worry…)

It took my appetite. If you don’t count Cheerios, ice cream, and salad.

It took away all my comfortable clothes, and has forced me to replace them in smaller sizes that appropriately cover my fake boobs, without losing track of them in shirts that are too large.

BUT,

it gave me the means and the motivation for education and early detection.

It gave me the motivation to step forward and say, “I don’t need THESE any more.”

Because I have Cowden’s Syndrome I will not suffer at the hands of breast or uterine cancer, and I will do my damndest to make sure my little girl doesn’t either.

Cowden’s Syndrome gave me the courage to fire clueless doctors, and educate the ones who care.

I encountered an acquaintance with breast cancer today. She had on a beautiful wig, and is in the middle of chemotherapy. I felt guilty as she asked me how I was feeling. She knew of my ordeal last spring. Survivor’s guilt I think. It broke my heart to see her hurting, even though I feel she will be well again.

Cowden’s Syndrome SUCKS, in so many ways. But it is part of us now, and like anything that becomes part of you, I believe you have to yank the good out of it.

Cowden’s Syndrome has taken a lot from me, from us in this house. But the knowledge we have gained will give us second chances that some others may never have.

Cowden’s Syndrome took from my body – but in many ways it gave to my soul.

Perspective.

“If I get to keep my spleen…”

Published on October 1, 2012October 1, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

As I sat in the dentist’s chair a few weeks ago getting another bridge organized, I enjoyed pleasant conversation with my dentist. I know, that may sound strange, but really she is quite pleasant, and very talented at what she does. She is also the Mom to twin friends of Meghan‘s from her class, so we have known each other over 4 years now. She is a mom, wife, dentist, photographer, fellow blogger, volunteer, and a generally nice person to be around. I am grateful to call her a friend.

As I was getting ready to go she asked me when she could schedule me for scaling and root planing. After I had her explain the depth of the cleaning that was involved, and even after she explained WHY it was a good idea, my instinctive answer was , “NEVER!”

Over the last 6 months alone I have had breast cancer, a double mastectomy, with reconstruction, and a hysterectomy. I have been scanned, had countless MRIs, and just recently completed a colonoscopy/endoscopy. To say I am DONE being poked and prodded would be the understatement of the year.

So, as I listened to her careful list of reasons why this scaling and root planing procedure is a good idea, I just wasn’t sold on the concept of ANY more pain.

I told her, “When they tell me I can keep my spleen, then I will make the appointment.” She laughed out loud. But this, this is what life with Cowden’s Syndrome has become. I am willing to celebrate being allowed to keep one of my organs, with a dental procedure that is probably quite necessary anway.

But, I feel like life in this body is about triage. I have to take care of things one step at a time.

So, the oncologist called today about my spleen. They were comparing the ultrasound pictures from April on 2012, and November of 2011 with an MRI in August 2012. She sent it to a lot of people to look at. The answer..maybe.

Really, are you surprised?

You see the ultrasounds showed identical, medium size “hamartoma.” (PTEN Hamartoma Tumor Syndrome is the umbrella term for Cowden’s and several other related Syndromes) But, the MRI showed 2 distinct, and one fairly large “hamartoma.” The good news about these is they are benign. The problem is – if they follow the body’s tendency to grow and grow things, they won’t be able to stay there too long.

I know, you can live without a spleen. You can live without a uterus, ovaries, a cervix, breasts, and a whole host of other things. But, just because you CAN do something, doesn’t mean you SHOULD.

So, I will go back in December and repeat the MRI. While they are there they can make sure the tiny cyst on my kidney stayed tiny too.

As soon as they are done. Once they tell me it is all stable, and I can keep my spleen. I promise, I will be a big girl and get my scaling and root planing done.

At least I have a kind, gentle and pleasant dentist – and she is looking to keep things IN, not take them out!

AND: http://gracelynsantoschronicles.blogspot.com/

Stay tuned…

Published on September 5, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

I learned a few things as I set up my classroom this week. Many of them I will not say here, because Mom always says, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!” Well at least that’s what she used to say when we were young… but I digress.

I have been without my own classroom for a few years now. I have been a traveling math cluster, and then last year shared a room with a colleague. This year I was given my own 3rd floor room. It is harder to have a room, but change is good – so I was ready and excited to try it out. And grateful for the opportunity.

See last spring my colleague and I were told we were to share the 3rd floor room. So, in the heat of June we brought everything we could (using LOTS of kids to help) up to that room. The rest of my personal belongings (from the first 10 years in the classroom) were stored in a nearby storage closet.

Sometime over the summer I got an Email that the schedule had changed. The third floor room would be mine alone, and the 1st floor room would belong to my colleague. So I set about the business of buying all the things you need for a room.

I brought my things in on August 22nd, but I couldn’t stay to set up. Meghan had an appointment. As a matter of fact I couldn’t come in the next day either because of two of my appointments -so I first got in to get settled yesterday.

Much to my surprise, the storage closet where all my personal things were had a new lock. I didn’t have a key so I took that as my clue to vacate.

Now, prior to the Mastectomy, I was pretty strong. I helped my husband renovate the house. I know how to move heavy things. Prior to the hysterectomy and the mastectomy – just a few short months apart, and just 6 months ago… I felt like this.

Now, after moving boxes for 3 hours yesterday. up and down the stairs, even with the help of a few well intentioned friends, I feel more like this.

I am sore in places I had no idea it was OK to be sore. This was either an eye opener to my age, my body’s fatigue, or the fact that it is time for some serious exercise.

But, after 2 days my classroom went from this:

To a lot closer to this:

Which is a good thing, because I just don’t do clutter well at all.

So when I left a little more relaxed it was time to get a confusing phone call from the doctor.

Meghan’s blood panel appears normal, but I have to compare the thyroid numbers off the last one when I see it. That was OK, and then he said the MRI had an “ODD” finding – shocker!

The “anterior pituitary tissue is seen though it is diminutive in size for age.”

Still actively trying to figure out what that means, especially because we were scanning for a pituitary tumor to try to find the cause of the early puberty. Now, clearly the pituitary is TOO SMALL? Really? I just can’t figure this out.

Grateful there is no tumor, I asked the doctor if it was insignificant. To which he replied, “Everything means something. I have never seen this before but I will be asking a lot of questions.”

So, fourth grade for my big girl tomorrow. One day at a time, this is all we can do…

Random Reflections – nothing profound today!

Published on September 2, 2012 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

We tried another church today. This time all three of us went. A little different than what we are used to, or I should say WERE used to – but it holds some promise nonetheless. Before we had even left we had been given a tour of the facility by the pastor, and Meghan was invited to a free music class Thursday afternoon.

God has a plan. And while we did not head all the way to Norway where Wikipedia tells me this picture is from, we were away from “home.” I am working to keep my eyes open and focused because to be quite honest some days God flat out confuses me. So we will see. At least we worshipped together as a family – for the first time in months!

It was gray and overcast a lot of the day. Glad we got in a swim yesterday. It may have been the last one. We would close the pool tomorrow, but we need to call a man about some air bubbles in the liner. Hoping its nothing too serious.

We got to spend the afternoon with my grandparents and my parents. Last minute plans are always a treat when we get to be with family. Pop was 93 last week. Grandma will be 92 in 2 weeks. GGMa is not quite up there, but it is still always a reminder of how fortunate I truly am to see my grandparents interacting with my daughter.

The oncologist’s nurse called me Friday. She wants a copy of an old abdominal sonogram on CD so they can sort out the spleen, and why it seems to suddenly be growing so many things. I told her it was going to take me a bit of time to get it because it was 4:40 on the Friday before a holiday weekend. She told me I could get it Tuesday. I chuckled.

No matter how hard I try… “I plan, God laughs.”

I explained to her that after 9 and a half weeks of summer vacation, I return to work Tuesday. I will not physically be able to have the CD burned until Friday. They will get it in about a week and a half. At which point she nicely reminded me that it could be serious. To which I replied quite simply, “No it can’t, because I don’t have time.”

She was appalled I think. But, what I meant was, I have undergone 2 major surgeries in the last 6 months. I have a colonoscopy scheduled for one of the days off this month, and an orthodontic visit with Meghan on the next one. Unless you can prove to me my spleen is about to explode or damage some other remaining internal organ – HANDS OFF!

I am about done with all these doctors!

So as much as I did my best to plan to keep next week, the first days of school, free and empty of things to do – the yellow pad next to me gets more full by the minute.

I will at some point get that CD. I will get the results of Meghan’s blood test and MRI. I will call Meghan’s school and sort out the busing mess that is developing for the first day of school. I will get the pool guy to show up when someone is home and tell me if I need to fix the pool before it can be closed. I will get Meghan to swim class, the orthodontist, and that new music class, and to Physical Therapy too.

I will get back to work. We will get back to homework, and a schedule that hopefully involves more kids and less doctors.

There will be stress, and tears, and nervous stomachs, and excitement.

And for Mommy – there will also be wine. LOTS of wine!

Although I must admit sometimes it’s nice to reflect with a few “normal” worries mixed in!