pten mutation – Page 15 – beatingcowdens

I believe…

Published on May 22, 2013 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

I believe that there are lessons to be learned from every event in life- especially the ones that don’t turn out like we plan.

I believe in looking for the positives; when plans change without warning, when people disappoint us, when we are thrust onto paths we never wanted to travel and into circles we never knew existed.

I believe that our indoctrination into the world of Rare Diseases came with an invitation to sit back or step forward. We choose to step forward. I believe we will make a difference.

I believe in prayer, and God, and miracles, and angels – and I am not ashamed or embarrassed to say so.

I believe in a God that doesn’t plan for bad things to happen, and who cries with us when they do. I believe that same God will give us the strength to get through the trials and tragedies and all our adversity – if only we ask.

I believe in angels, and speak regularly of my cousin Meghan, our guardian angel. But, I also believe there are armies of angels around us. I am thinking especially today about the father and his 4-year-old daughter that were hit by a fire truck at the same intersection I had my accident in November. Nothing short of angels pulled them both from the car – shaken and banged up, but very much alive.

I believe in miracles-large and small. I have witnessed at least one large one, when my sister’s beautiful niece pulled through a very scary life threatening virus 2 years ago. I believe that miracles happen every day – all around us. But every day I witness miracles, as the flowers bud, and the birds fly, and the children grow.

I believe that adversity can only define us if we let it. Our struggles surely shape us, as we grow each day – but how we handle them affects us, and the people around us. I believe that Cowden’s Syndrome – through my daughter’s diagnosis, saved my life. I believe that PTEN mutations, and broken tumor suppressor genes are scary – but not “hide under the bed” scary. They are more like “you can try that roller coaster you don’t like” scary.

I believe we are allowed to be frustrated and sad and angry and mad. Every single one of us – sometimes. I believe that life can be very, very, very hard. Overwhelming at times. But, I also believe in doing my best to channel that energy, and teaching my daughter to do the same.

I believe in smiling more than frowning. I tell Meghan that she will draw more people to her with a smile on her face. She listens.

I believe that good things can come from unexpected change. New friendships and old ones become more solid when tested. People you never expected can go to bat for you – and look out for you.

I believe in surrounding myself with people who are “real.” Who say what they mean, and mean what they say. I believe in surrounding myself with people who have all types of beliefs, as long as they have a kind heart and are true to themselves.

I believe in speaking out about my own life, and my own experiences; whether they are medical, allergies, emotional, physical because keeping them inside doesn’t help a soul.

I believe writing helps me channel my own energy into a productive outlet. I believe I will spend every day on this earth in some way thinking, addressing, or working through a medical issue for Meghan or I. I believe – if I stay focused it will not consume me. (Although from time to time I may need some help!)

I believe that people who are only in this life to gossip and spread lies and false information are toxic.

I have made a pact to rid my life of toxins. I believe with a lot of determination it can be done!

Moving Forward

Published on May 16, 2013May 16, 2013 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

May 16th for years has had a special place in my heart.

In 1985 my cousin Meghan was born. I was in the 6th grade and giddy to get to know her. I never could have known at the time that her life would be tragically cut short after a more than 4 year battle with leukemia.

"Angel Meghan" - 1987 — “Angel Meghan” – 1987

Her feisty nature, her smile, her spirit, and her strength have always been an inspiration to me, and it was an honor years later, to be able to name my daughter after the spirited young girl who became an angel at 6 and a half, on my 18th birthday.

My daughter carries so many of the characteristics that endeared my cousin to me. She is the same kind of spirit, who lights up a room, and makes everyone smile by being around them. She endures medical procedures sparsely batting an eye, and accepts the reality of her life with grace.

Last year on May 16th I was at NYU hospital, just 10 weeks after my bilateral mastectomy, undergoing a complete hysterectomy. I knew that day I had the prayers of my family, and the strength of my angel by my side.

I have a “thing” for dates. I remember numbers. Maybe this is how my love of math shows through. I like answers, and things that are absolute, or make some sense. Maybe my recognition of dates, and anniversaries is a way of marking time – or maybe its a way of celebrating. These anniversaries that I remember – some sad, others bittersweet, have shaped me as a person. They are all pieces of that every evolving puzzle.

I thought about the surgery this morning. I thought about it being a full year since all my “girl parts” were officially gone. I thought of the perils of the hysterectomy recovery and how in so many ways this was a tougher surgery for me. Then I thought about my relief, and how much less of a cancer risk I am than I was a year ago. And I got dressed with a smile.

I thought about Angelina Jolie. I thought about how happy I am for her – that she was able to make an empowered decision to get out in front of her breast cancer risk. I thought about how happy I am that she has brought genetic testing into light.

But a few things have really bothered me.

PTEN mutations (Cowden’s Syndrome and the sister disorders) carry with them the same imminent breast cancer risk. I myself had been tested for BRCA1 years before I ever knew of PTEN. I was negative. The genetic counselor who tested me did not even have PTEN on her radar screen. I know its rare – I do. But I have to believe this is the opportune time to at least educate the medical professionals, if not the public, on the reality that there are other genetic mutations that carry imminent cancer risks. I am sure there are more that I haven’t learned about yet. Let’s use this opportunity to raise awareness not only of the “popular” genetic mutations, but of the others as well. Had my daughter never been diagnosed, by the well educated geneticist – it is likely I would not be here to write this today.

I am also bothered by the haters. You know the haters. The “Monday morning quarterbacks.”

They have crept out in quantity and I have a few words for them too.

BUTT OUT!

If you don’t like the idea of a prophylactic mastectomy – then don’t have one. Plain and simple.

If you don’t like the idea of a complete hysterectomy at 38 because the alternative was 4x a year – yes you read that right- 4x a year SURGICAL uterine biopsies, then don’t have one.

When you live with the Sword of Damocles hanging above your head every day, when you have to go about your business, and work, and raise a child, and pay bills, and shop and function with the feeling of impending doom that is sometimes hard to shake – when you have a diagnosis of a genetic mutation that is not going away no matter what you do. Then, maybe then you and I can talk.

Until then, wish Angelina a good long healthy life. Look up “genetic mutations that cause cancer” or “The Global Genes Project” or “The National Association for Rare Disorders.” Get a feel for what we go through every single day of our lives.

You probably wouldn’t know us if you passed us on the street. We are some of the strongest and bravest and smartest people you will ever lay eyes on. We stop and smell the roses. We hug. We smile. We laugh. We get how fleeting life is.

May 16th will always be a significant day for me.

But, moving forward -so will every day. The first year is over. Now on with the rest of our lives!

************************************************************

In case you are interested…

http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/a+sword+of+Damocles+hangs+over+head (Sword of Damocles)

http://globalgenes.org/ (Global Genes Project)

http://www.rarediseases.org/ (National Association of Rare Disorders)

https://www.facebook.com/ptenworld?fref=ts (Facebook Page for PTEN world)

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!

“Keep Swimming!”

Published on November 12, 2012November 12, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

There are people you meet in your life – and even some you don’t actually meet… that make a world of difference for you.

I saw this today and it made me think of some of the people I have met over the last year. Some of them don’t talk to each other any more, but I talk to them all. It’s just who I am.

Today I couldn’t get a phrase, shared by one of those on-line friends, out of my head.

This has been a tough week for me. It happens to the best of us. I know I am usually pretty positive, but this week it has been harder than normal. So when I shared some of my struggles she said to me…

I thought about it for a while. And you know what? It made perfect sense. She has had plenty of struggles of her own. Actually, she has had more than her fair share, but she brings it all to the table in the Cowden’s support group. She shares her ups and downs, her struggles and celebrations, and she just keeps right on swimming.

I think, to some extent that is what we have to do. Look it in the face, whatever it is… take a deep breath and keep on swimming.

Today is my birthday. I turned 39. And I am proud to say it. I have no intention of staying here either. Next year will be 40, and so on and so on.

But with my birthday comes a flood of emotion. This is just over a year since my Cowden’s Syndrome diagnosis. It has been just over a year since mine and Meghan‘s lives were forever changed by the news that we carry a PTEN mutation, and that our bodies are inclined to create benign and malignant tumors – all over.

Keep Swimming…

It has been eight months since the “prophylactic bilateral mastectomy,” which turned out to be a life saving operation when the pathology revealed stage 1 DCIS. I have almost adjusted to “the new girls,” but with each change of season comes the realization that the landscape of my body is forever changed. Old familiar sweaters need to be replaced. Nothing is quite where it used to be.

Keep Swimming…

It has been six months since the complete hysterectomy. The one Cowden’s Syndrome called for – way before its time. So as my body celebrates 39 – my hormones clock in somewhere around 55. And with no hormone replacements in the cards, we are learning to get used to each other. Not uncommon for me to go from a turtleneck to a t-shirt. Good thing there aren’t too many clothes to pick from.

Keep Swimming…

My birthday has been charged with emotion for years. Ever since we lost my sweet cousin Meghan to Leukemia at the age of 6, it has been a harder than normal day. Despite my best efforts, at some point emotion overtakes me. I have always been grateful for our deep connection – so deep that I named my daughter for her. But, somehow 21 years fade and the feelings are that of yesterday. Oh, how I miss her.

Keep Swimming….

My Meghan faces scary appointments in the upcoming months, as we determine if her thyroid nodules are growing or stable. Her health is always a tenuous issue, but her smile and positive attitude make it easier to press on. I wait for word on my spleen and my kidney… silent benign tumors that will either prompt more organ removal… or not.

Keep Swimming…

GiGi fell during the storm. Two weeks ago today we were very scared. Today she walked with help around the dining room table. Her feet still work, she was excited to discover. Surely this is a realization worth celebrating. Happy birthday to me.

Keep Swimming…

We went to Midland beach today with a few small things. A donation a friend from New Jersey had sent, as well as a few things Meghan and I picked up this morning. Sometimes paying it forward is the best birthday gift you can give yourself. If everyone gives just a little – time, money, supplies – whatever you can… it makes a world of difference. It matters.

These people. The people of Staten Island, and Breezy, and the Rockaways, and all the other coastal communities devastated by Hurricane Sandy, they certainly are showing their ability to…

…Keep Swimming…

Such an intense day. At times I laughed. At times I cried. At times I was proud. At times I was sad. Life is changing every single day. The ones you love, the places you are comfortable, and the people you are comfortable with – all transient.

I looked over my blog today. It has truly been a journey. And if you got this far you are reading my…

100thpostpic — Who knew I had this much to say?

9,000 views — Amazing you people find this interesting! 🙂 But I am grateful to have you.

Tonight I am reflective. I am enjoying my family and my wine. I am thankful. And I am tired.

It has been a long year. But a productive one. A year unlike any I had ever imagined. The journey here is far from over. I am thankful for my close friends, and my cyber friends. I am thankful for those of you who read, who I will never know. I am thankful for reality checks. I am thankful for celebrations, and laughter and tears – for they all make me who I am.

This is definitely a marathon, not a sprint. Cowden’s Syndrome, like life, requires patience, flexibility, and endurance, as well as a well-rounded view of reality.

I am trying – with a little help from my friends.

Fighting My Way Out of the Cage

Published on September 18, 2012 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

A few days ago I wrote about my dog Lucky – biting through the cage. Well she got her wish, and she is a free dog now. Free to roam around my house, lay where she wants, and drink when she wants. She is much calmer and happier now. It doesn’t take much to make her happy.

Why then can I not take her lead? Why am I living in the cage of my own thoughts?

My husband, he has the right idea. He worries only when it is absolutely necessary. I worry about making sure the stove is turned off. He worries when the house catches fire. Maybe it’s a male/ female thing. Maybe it’s my controlling OCD. Who knows? What I do know is he is MUCH healthier than I am mentally.

I am still quite sane, but admittedly neurotic. Some say it was inevitable after the year we have had. I think it stretched back much farther. I could say parenting a not so healthy child has done it, but if I am honest, I think I have always been this way.

I just read a Facebook friend’s post. She talked about her brain continuing 24/7 even when she asks it not to. That’s EXACTLY how I feel.

I am sure the Cowden’s Syndrome, the mastectomy, the breast cancer, the hysterectomy, the tumors on the spleen, the cyst on the kidney, and the constant screening tests aren’t helping. And those are just mine – not Meghan‘s! We average 3 doctors a week, usually at least 2 on the schedule and a pop up. Each one seems to look, poke and prod and not offer a single answer. Then the tests lead to more tests. It’s a bad cycle we are in here. So then I spend my spare time researching – thinking maybe I can find the answers they don’t know. I end up just as clueless and thoroughly exhausted. Sometimes you have to stop biting at the cage, realize the answers aren’t there yet, and realize you have the power to let yourself out. I am “luckier” than my dog Lucky – no pun intended. I have the benefit of being able to free myself. I just never seem to get it quite right.

I am going to try that one day at a time thing again. I am going to try to concentrate on all the many things that have gone right. I will TRY to worry less when my daughter’s WBC is frighteningly low, while I wait for the retest. I will worry less about West Nile Virus, and just try to treat the 8 mosquito bites on the leg of my immune compromised kid. I swear I will try. It’s not going to be easy though.

When you see me in a fit of worry, feel free to give me a “cyber” smack into reality. ONE DAY AT A TIME!

TODAY – good things happened. I got through the baseline screening colonoscopy and endoscopy. The colonoscopy was completely CLEAN! I do not have to go back for another 3 YEARS! Beats the heck out of the every 6 months they were recommending for Cowden’s patients. Also, my CLEAN scope frees up my little girl for a while. As long as mine stay clean they won’t start screening her until she is at least 18. Breathe. Some minor biopsies on the endoscopy but the doctor is expecting a CLEAN pathology.

For me, for my daughter, for my husband, and for ALL of us who are fighting our way out of the cage. We can do it – one day at a time!

Whose afraid on an MRI? Not me – practice makes perfect!

Published on August 23, 2012August 23, 2012 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

So as I was positioned to be rolled into the MRI tube today, I realized my heart wasn’t even racing. Not that I ENJOY an MRI, it’s just they have become so familiar that they no longer provoke the anxiety they used to. I have held onto Meghan‘s shoulder through countless knee MRIs, and this past year have had quite a few of my own.

Today it was an abdominal MRI. Now if you have been following the story at all you know my abdomen is missing a few things. You may or may not know that there is also the issue of a harmatoma (basically a fatty tumor) on my spleen from this PTEN harmatoma tumor syndrome. Yep, that’s the other big fancy name for Cowden’s Syndrome – or more technically it is the umbrella term that covers Cowden’s and several other syndromes.

So, why the MRI? Well among the other neat cancers that seem to come with this genetic mutation, is renal cell carcinoma. A recent study, the same one that put the lifetime breast cancer risk at 85%, placed the risk of renal cell carcinoma in Cowden’s patients at 33% Yep, quiet old kidney cancer – hiding there until it causes you a problem. So, they like to screen for it – twice a year with an abdominal MRI.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22252256

Part of me wishes they could just do the kidney. You see I have this theory about taking the used car to the mechanic… You just sometimes find out more than you wanted to know.

I really am not in the mood to lose any more organs. I think I have reached my quota for the year. And I have to tell you, this is one hell of a way to lose a few pounds.

So, somtime tomorrow or Monday the oncologist will call me. She will tell me that the kidneys look great. She will tell me that the harmatoma on the spleen hasn’t grown, and it can stay right where it is. She will also tell me that the stones they saw on ultrasound in my gallbladder a few months ago are no problem at all. She will tell me all that because that is what I need to hear. And hopefully it will all be true.

I need it to be true. Because I will be busy. An appointment right before the MRI with a new GI set me up for the “necessary” screening endoscopy/colonoscopy on September 18th. The risk of colon cancer is a meager 9%, up only a few % points from the general population, but no point leaving any stone unturned I guess!

Some days I wait for the break. The time when we will be without doctors. Then I realize this is all so new. They are all so scared and confused they are doing all they can when they scan this, study that… Hey, it worked for me when they saved my life with the breast cancer. And, it will work to keep my girl safe as we scan her thyroid religiously.

I am tired. I would be lying if I said anything else. I am TIRED of doctors. But, as I said before… I will keep going, necause there is no choice. Plus, “Everybody has SOMETHING!” https://beatingcowdens.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=693&action=edit

At least I am not afraid of the MRI tube anymore!

Whose pink shirt is that?

Published on August 21, 2012August 21, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

survivor — I guess that’s my pink shirt?

It was probably in 1998 when we attended our first Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Central Park. Mom had spent 1997 undergoing 2 separate mastectomies, and enduring chemo. Just to top it all off she began a run on 5 years of Tamoxifen.

By September of 1998 she was back to her feisty self, raring to go – so we went. We have gone almost every year since then, save for maybe 2003 when I gave birth to Meghan in August.

A few years ago a dear friend, a new survivor joined us. So one very early Sunday a year, we pile into my Mom’s car and head to Central Park. We look through the stands that are set up. We “shop” for some free goodies, and we pay for some too. Then we head back to the car and drop it all off so we are ready to walk among 25,000 or so survivors and supporters.

We push Meghan in her chair, as the 5K would be way too much for her, but she won’t do without cheering Grandma on. She makes Grandma a banner to hang on her shirt – usually a picture of the two of them. It is a morning of (exhausting) celebration.

So it was Meghan. It is always Meghan it seems, who pointed out to me about a week after my diagnosis of DCIS, that I needed a pink shirt for the race this year. When I asked her why she said, “because you had breast cancer too.”

I thought about that for a few minutes. It was early in the game so the ramifications of what I had been through had not yet fully sunken in. I guess technically she was right. I had the pathology report in my hand. It clearly said DCIS. The breast surgeon clearly called it cancer, and reminded me that a few more months would have put me in a “fight for my life.”

But I had been to those races for many years. I had looked at the resolve in the faces of the survivors. The bald heads of the women still in treatment, and I had read the signs and tributes to those who had fought and lost. I had watched my own Mom endure chemo and years of tamoxifen. Surely I couldn’t put myself in the same class with these ladies?

I suffer I guess with a bit of “survivors guilt.” Some people might chuckle at the thought that my road has been easy, but of course everything is relative, and it is all about perspective.

I did commit to a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy to reduce my imminent cancer risk. That in and of itself is a pretty big deal. Finding out I already had cancer, rocked my world. Knowing that I had already done everything possible to prevent any spread or recurrence, gave me some much needed peace of mind. Angels, especially two I love (one here on earth, and one in heaven) named Meghan, had already kept me from being hurt by Breast Cancer.

Am I a survivor? You bet your ass. No genetic mutation, not PTEN, no Cowden’s Syndrome will take me, or my girl. I am blessed with the knowledge to screen, and the benefits of early detection.

Do I deserve to be in the same ranks of these breast cancer survivors? I am not so sure.

But, I have this pretty pink shirt. And these fake boobs. Maybe that in and of itself makes it OK.

No matter what I will consider it an honor to walk among some of the strongest women I will ever know.

Fireworks in My Heart

Published on August 20, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

_DSC0252 — After 12 years of marriage, I still feel fireworks for my husband!

When we were vacationing at Disney World, we stopped one night to see the beautiful fireworks show at EPCOT. My husband captured a few great shots, as I sat with Meghan and watched the show in awe. It was such a wonderful, peaceful, “normal” night, and I relished every second.

I watched my husband, practicallly laying on concrete to take photos – partially because he loves photography, but also partially because he knew I was photo obsessed this trip – and I couldn’t help but think how much I adore him.

Those wild days of dating and hot romance have toned down into a sense of companionship, but there is still plenty of passion in our lives. He can give my stomach a flip with a touch, or a hug; with a quick kiss or a slow one.

I loved him soon after we met. I loved him more when we married, but I never could have imagined I’d be this in love.

He has held my hand this past year alone, as we watched Meghan be wheeled into surgery for the 9th time.

He lovingly drained my drains after the mastectomy. He held me, and reassured me. He told me I was still beautiful, and even helped me believe it.

And, when it came time for the hysterectomy I spent many nights in his arms listening to him repeatedly explain what I already knew – “You are more than the sum of your parts!”

From the start of this whole Cowden’s Syndrome mess, his ONLY concern has been keeping us safe and healthy. He is my biggest support system, my cheerleader, and my safety net.

I have been blessed in so many ways, but I truly feel this PTEN mutation, helped strengthen an already solid marriage.

He goes back to work in a few hours, and I couldn’t be more sad. My happiest times are when we are a family of three.

You STILL don’t LOOK sick (reblog from 5/26/12)

Published on August 15, 2012August 17, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

We are headed home tomorrow from a wonderful family vacation. I will have lots of lovely things to tell you about the fun we had and the great people we encountered. Unfortunately there are still some ignorant people… even here, who do not realize you can look perfectly healthy and still be “sick.” There were a few times… especially today when the monorail operator gave us an attitude when we asked for a ramp into the handicap accessible car (even though her chair is clearly marked as a wheelchair.) People can be so frustratingly ignorant. She notices now, and it bothers her, but she is awesome, and she tells me she hopes they never know what it’s like because no one should feel this way. So here it is one more time…

beatingcowdens

“You don’t look sick!”

If I had a dollar for every time someone directed that comment at my daughter or I, I would be retired – a wealthy woman.

We don’t “look” sick. As a matter of fact we look alike. A lot alike. It’s probably due to the fact that I, having the ‘honor’ of being the first in my family known to have the PTEN mutation that causes Cowden’s Syndrome. To look at us, you would see a vibrant mother and daughter duo – 8 and 38.

When I push her through Disney World in her modified wheel chair each summer, I get the stares that say “spoiled.” When I pushed her through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer walk last fall so we could support my mom, a survivor, someone actually said “Why don’t you get the ten year old out of the stroller?” Actually she is 8, and she would…

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Stick Your Face in an Air Conditioner and Deal With It!

Published on July 30, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

Maybe that should be the slogan for 30 something (ok closer to 40, I know) women who have been thrust into menopause. Kind of like the equivalent “Put on your big girl panties…”

Estrogen loss and menopause. Two more things I can thank Cowden’s Syndrome for, as I learn all the side effects connected with both – one at a time. At least I can relate to… well, not really ANYONE in my age bracket. But that’s Ok… I am getting used to it.

Fortunately it hasn’t been THAT bad yet, but I have found myself a little sweatier than normal, and I have been known to stick my face in an air conditioner lately while throwing an ice cube down my back.

I am not one to complain too much, but really, the reality of this one took a little time to catch up with me.

Yeah, I know it had to go. Blah, Blah Blah… Cowden’s Syndrome, uterine cancer, suspicious polyp. I get it. Oh, and your ovaries are way too big, too many cysts, let’s take those too. Sure – why not?

Nothing would have changed if I had asked all the questions in the world. It had to be done. And I am learning sometimes it is better not to know everything at once.

So, I am hearing words like calcium supplements, bone scan, and osteoporosis, while I have friends my age going for 20 week ultrasounds. Don’t misunderstand me. I never wanted another baby – but it just seems wrong. Like I have warped into a different reality.

That’s what these last few months feel like sometimes. A bad sci-fi movie. I am the girl who gets all her body parts cut out, one or two or three at a time.

I wonder how it ends.

And, most importantly I hope the movie theater has air conditioning. It’s HOT in here!