Okay, okay, I know I owe everyone sonogram pics. Soon, I promise. I have spent a vast majority of my time lately in doctor's offices and hospitals between mom's appointments and my owns. Good news on the mom front, her second drain should come out early next week and her PET scan was clear! Yay!
Not so good news for me. The results from my 3 hour glucose tolerance test were abnormal, so I have gestational diabetes. I have to go in next week and meet with a dietician and learn how to test my blood sugar. Four finger pricks a day. Oh boy. Until I meet with the dietician, no candy, no cookies, no cake, no fruit and no fruit juice. Sigh. Everyone please keep your fingers crossed that we are able to control this with diet and exercise so that insulin shots will not be necessary. I am not good with giving myself shots.
I am so bummed about this. My pregnancy has been great so far and I don't have a single risk factor for gestational diabetes, so this is really frustrating.
Of course, there are serious risks to me and the baby, but the good news is that gestational diabetes is highly treatable, so we should both be fine. :-)
Friday, December 29, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Pathology Report and Imaginary Sonogram Pics
Mom's pathology report came back today and I am pleased to say that the news is good! Her tumor was 1.6cm, smaller than they thought, and out of 12 lymph nodes, only 1 showed any signs of cancerous cells! Next up is an appointment with an oncologist to see what the next step is. While we must be vigilant and know that we have to continue to battle the cancer, this is excellent news and quite a relief after the last few weeks of feeling scared and helpless.
On to our sonogram pictures . . . . Oh, wait, I can't post any sonogram pictures because Trevor left them at work on Friday and forgot to bring them home today as well. Bad Trevor! I will post pictures as soon as he brings them home, I promise. The doctor's appointment went well though, Dorian and I are progressing nicely. We start childbirth classes this week, so that should be fun. :-) Another update soon (with pics), I promise!
On to our sonogram pictures . . . . Oh, wait, I can't post any sonogram pictures because Trevor left them at work on Friday and forgot to bring them home today as well. Bad Trevor! I will post pictures as soon as he brings them home, I promise. The doctor's appointment went well though, Dorian and I are progressing nicely. We start childbirth classes this week, so that should be fun. :-) Another update soon (with pics), I promise!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Post-Surgery Update
So, now I'm under a lot of pressure to say something profound. LOL. So many people were touched by my letter to Dorian. To all of you who sent me emails or told me what it meant to you, I am deeply honored that you responded to my writing. I simply said what I felt I needed to say, voiced the fears that I had, and thought about what I would want my son to know and the fact that I was able to give life to those thoughts was therapeutic beyond measure for me.
Yesterday was Mom's surgery and it was a better day than I thought it would be. Honestly, when I walked in the doors of the hospital, I felt like I was going to throw up. I told Trevor the night before that those days between the surgeon's appointment and the mastectomy felt like I was on a bad carnival ride, getting dizzy and sick, but I couldn't find my way out. As I sat in the waiting room, that feeling kept up, like the tilt-a-whirl was spinning me out of control. When you're in the surgical waiting area, it is virtually impossible to forget that cancer is happening to your family. And then Dr. Jew came out to speak to Dad and I. It would be impossible for me to explain to you, all of you who have not met Dr. Jew, how soothing she is, how she instantly makes the tilt-a-whirl stop and the pit of your stomach feel solid again. I have never met a person in my life who inspired so much confidence, who could make me feel so reassured in such a difficult situation. When she said that the surgery went well and that they "got it all" my head quit spinning and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, we still are waiting for the pathology report and the news it will bring, but for now, Dr. Jew's quiet confidence made me feel that the poison inside of my Mom was gone. That she had gone to battle for all of us and was triumphant. That, despite the despair that washed over us all on the initial news, Mom was no longer a breast cancer victim, but instead a breast cancer survivor.
Through it all, Mom was a trooper. While we led ourselves to believe that we were there to support her, she was really the one lifting us up and making us strong. I know this must be terribly hard for her. I know she must have moments where she breaks down and wonders why this is happening. But the face she shows us is that of a warrior and a hero.
Next is pathology. This will tell us what the evil cancerous cells were up to and how serious they were about their business. Dr. Jew says Mom's tissue was inflamed around the lump and that this means she was fighting the cancer. This gives us great hope that those gnarly little cells were confined only to that lump, that they had not spread. Regardless of what the pathology report says though, we will handle it and Mom will do whatever is necessary to beat the insidious beast down.
Yesterday was Mom's surgery and it was a better day than I thought it would be. Honestly, when I walked in the doors of the hospital, I felt like I was going to throw up. I told Trevor the night before that those days between the surgeon's appointment and the mastectomy felt like I was on a bad carnival ride, getting dizzy and sick, but I couldn't find my way out. As I sat in the waiting room, that feeling kept up, like the tilt-a-whirl was spinning me out of control. When you're in the surgical waiting area, it is virtually impossible to forget that cancer is happening to your family. And then Dr. Jew came out to speak to Dad and I. It would be impossible for me to explain to you, all of you who have not met Dr. Jew, how soothing she is, how she instantly makes the tilt-a-whirl stop and the pit of your stomach feel solid again. I have never met a person in my life who inspired so much confidence, who could make me feel so reassured in such a difficult situation. When she said that the surgery went well and that they "got it all" my head quit spinning and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, we still are waiting for the pathology report and the news it will bring, but for now, Dr. Jew's quiet confidence made me feel that the poison inside of my Mom was gone. That she had gone to battle for all of us and was triumphant. That, despite the despair that washed over us all on the initial news, Mom was no longer a breast cancer victim, but instead a breast cancer survivor.
Through it all, Mom was a trooper. While we led ourselves to believe that we were there to support her, she was really the one lifting us up and making us strong. I know this must be terribly hard for her. I know she must have moments where she breaks down and wonders why this is happening. But the face she shows us is that of a warrior and a hero.
Next is pathology. This will tell us what the evil cancerous cells were up to and how serious they were about their business. Dr. Jew says Mom's tissue was inflamed around the lump and that this means she was fighting the cancer. This gives us great hope that those gnarly little cells were confined only to that lump, that they had not spread. Regardless of what the pathology report says though, we will handle it and Mom will do whatever is necessary to beat the insidious beast down.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The Angel of Hope
Dear Dorian,
On Thursday, November 30th, your grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. On Friday, December 1st, we learned that the cancer was fast growing and that immediate surgery was the best option. On Monday, December 4th, my best friend, your grandmother, will undergo a mastectomy. She will do this, take the most aggressive treatment option possible, because she does not want to live in fear, because she will conquer cancer, because she wants to hold you, again and again, as you grow up. She will do this because she is fiercely brave.
Right now, we are all scared. We face uncertainty as to what stage the cancer is at until we receive the pathology report. We face that sensation that things like cancer "don't happen to us." I face the darkest fear possible, that I might lose my mom. And I think of you. And I think of how many years of joy and wonder you will experience with your grandmother. And I feel a renewed sense of faith and purpose and I know that she will beat this, that there is no reason for me to fear that I will lose her. Because I won't. We won't. We will beat this. We will walk this dark path together and we will come out in the light.
I am scared for so many reasons. I thought I knew something about breast cancer. It turns out I know so little. I am scared that my risk is now increased. And I promise, for your sake, that I will do my monthly self-exams every month for the rest of my life. I hope that any woman who reads this will do the same. Please remember, the mammograms are wonderful, but they are not enough.
And I am glad that your middle name will be Remiel, the angel of hope. You give me hope. You give her hope. You are an angel to us.
Love,
Mom
On Thursday, November 30th, your grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. On Friday, December 1st, we learned that the cancer was fast growing and that immediate surgery was the best option. On Monday, December 4th, my best friend, your grandmother, will undergo a mastectomy. She will do this, take the most aggressive treatment option possible, because she does not want to live in fear, because she will conquer cancer, because she wants to hold you, again and again, as you grow up. She will do this because she is fiercely brave.
Right now, we are all scared. We face uncertainty as to what stage the cancer is at until we receive the pathology report. We face that sensation that things like cancer "don't happen to us." I face the darkest fear possible, that I might lose my mom. And I think of you. And I think of how many years of joy and wonder you will experience with your grandmother. And I feel a renewed sense of faith and purpose and I know that she will beat this, that there is no reason for me to fear that I will lose her. Because I won't. We won't. We will beat this. We will walk this dark path together and we will come out in the light.
I am scared for so many reasons. I thought I knew something about breast cancer. It turns out I know so little. I am scared that my risk is now increased. And I promise, for your sake, that I will do my monthly self-exams every month for the rest of my life. I hope that any woman who reads this will do the same. Please remember, the mammograms are wonderful, but they are not enough.
And I am glad that your middle name will be Remiel, the angel of hope. You give me hope. You give her hope. You are an angel to us.
Love,
Mom
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