She's in Recovery...

Liz's surgeon just came out to tell us that her surgery is complete and everything went well. He said everything looked normal, which is great news. Plus, he even gave us a picture of her ovaries and uterus (maybe Liz will even let us scan it and post it on the blog later)! All of that is now on its way to Pathology to determine if the cancer spread there as well.

She should be heading to her room in a few hours. If she is awake enough later today, we will do another post.

Thanks for all the prayers and positive energy everyone keeps sending our way. We wouldn't have been able to get through this without all of you.

Slice Morning

I'm not very excited about this day. I wish I were off enjoying Spring Break on a warm beach. Operating Rooms, to my fuzzy memory, are not particularly warm, nor do they serve margaritas. They do have narcotics and bright lights, though, so I guess that's something.

I suppose that it's fair to say that I have been in a bit of denial about this surgery. I worked a full day yesterday and had my brother over for dinner. I haven't packed a single thing. I haven't even cried ... well, since they told me no kids. That day, I cried enough for the rest of the month.

The mastectomy/wire placement/lymph node bisection/reconstruction was so scary and so involved that I dreaded it, but I felt ready. Suck it, cancer. I wanted the cancer out of my body. I wanted to fight it. I wanted to be in control and I felt blessed to be the one chosen to lead the charge. (I know that sounds strange, but I really did feel kind of honored. Out of all of the people in my family who could have been afflicted with this battle, I'm glad it was me.) Plus, I knew that I was going to get a nice new figure out of the whole disaster.

Today is different. Today, hopefully, we aren't removing cancer. We're just throwing an earthquake into it's path. That's a bold step, I guess. But I can't help feeling that I have to go through another major surgery and all I get out of it this time is three scars, hot flashes, abdominal weight gain, and osteoporosis.

That's not nearly as exciting as a new rack.

Sigh.

The Next Round

The decision has been made. I will be going in on Tuesday morning for a full hysterectomy. Why the full thing? Well, my tumors have put me at an increased risk for ovarian cancer, and the estrogen that the ovaries produce is now dangerous to my body. Also, the medication that I will soon start will put me at an increased risk for getting endometrial and uterine cancers. Finally, because I have a history of abnormal paps, I am at ... you guessed it ... an increased risk of developing cervical cancer.

So, soon I will have no ovaries, no uterus and no cervix. I will have at least three new scars to add to my collection, which I never wanted to start in the first place. I'll also be in menopause. Watch out!

The laparoscopic surgery is scheduled for 10:30. Scott will post an update as soon as he is able. Please pray for a successful surgery, that they do not find any more cancer, and for me to have strength. I'm doing pretty well with all of the prayers that you have been offering, so far, but a few directed ones couldn't hurt.

On a lighter note, I feel that it is very important to go into procedures such as these with a good attitude and a cheerful, hopeful spirit. That's why I wore this shirt to my mastectomy.

"This Is My Cancer Fighting Shirt."

To psych myself up for another round of injections and sutures and swelling, I wore this shirt today.

It says: "Yes they are fake! My real ones tried to kill me!"

I hope it brings you as much joy as it does me.

Oh, also. Check this out. I can almost reach straight up, now.

Pretty awesome, huh?

So Happy

I just thought that I should tell you that I'm about to eat Punch pizza with a Blue Moon beer. Then, I'm going to have a peanut butter killer brownie. I'm going to do the all of this while watching Twilight Saga: New Moon.

Jealous?

Silver Lining - A Series on Cancer Optimism

Number One

I hope that this doesn't offend all of you soccer moms, but I would like to point out one good thing that will come from my inability to have more than two kids.

It is entirely possible that I will never have to drive a minivan!

News: Some Awesome and Some Mildly Sucktastic

I had my appointment with the oncologist, yesterday. As we hoped, all of the results are back. It is somewhat of a mixed bag. Here is a summary for those of you who know things about cancer.

• My oncotype DX recurrence score is 20.
• My 10 year distant recurrence rate is 13%.
• I am BRCA1 and BRCA2 negative.
• My chemotherapy benefit is calculated at 4%.
• My 27.29 score is 18.38.
• My Estrone is at 26 and my Estrodiol is at 48.

So, what does all of this mean? Well, I'll start at the beginning (and I'll rate the news in case you feel like making a chart of pie graph or something.) Here goes:

• The oncotype DX is the test that was done in California. It takes a very detailled look at my tumor samples to predict the benefit of chemotherapy and the likelihood that the cancer will recur within the next ten years. The score of 20 puts me into the intermediate risk category. (Moderately Sucktastic)
• My 10 year recurrence rate is 13%, which is higher than we had hoped. Using simple math (which I'm sure you are all capable of doing) I have a 87% chance of making it through the next 10 years without getting breast cancer, again. I am a little disappointed by this, because I had a double mastectomy. I would have thought that would play into this number, but it doesn't. As the oncologist told us, "surgery can never get out 100% of the tissue." So, we got the tumors, but there is still a tiny amount of breast tissue, like 3%. (Mildly Sucktastic)
• The two genetic tests that were done were BRCA1 sequencing and BRCA2 sequencing. They were both negative. This is great. It means that I am not at a 40% chance of getting ovarian cancer. It means that we do not know of a genetic reason (although there are other tests that can be done) to indicate that Laila, my mom and my sister are in danger. (Awesome)
• Using the information that we have from California, it is predicted that if I do chemotherapy, my chances for recurrence drop by 4%. Since this number is so low, and since chemo has so many side effects (including increased incidents of other cancers) it is decided that I will not have chemo. (Scary to not be as aggressive as possible, but Great)
• The 27.29 test is called the Tumor Marker. It isn't so much a definitive test as a baseline. We hope to see a number below 37, so my 18.38 is okay. We will be testing this each time I see the oncologist. If it spikes, that indicates that there is caner somewhere in my body. (I will give this a rating of Average on the suckometer.)
• Estrone and Estrodiol levels are within the normal ranges. However, since my tumors grow using estrogen, we hope for as low as possible. My oncologist said that levels are "not alarming, but I would like to see them be lower." So, ovaries out. Also, no egg freezing, which would increase the amount of estrogen too much. Also, it would be good to take out the uterus, as well, since the estrogen inhibiting medication causes an increased risk for endometrial cancer. (Vaguely Sucktastic, but not so bad.)

So, that's what we learned. Some decisions were made, yesterday, which I like. The next one to make is which doctor we use for the procedure. We have appointments this week to see a gynecological oncologist and one to see my regular gynecologist.

Stay tuned.

A Good Report with Hopes for More

On Friday, I had an appointment with the plastic surgeon. It went well. He said that my incisions are healing nicely and that the fluid in my back is being re-absorbed as well as can be expected. He claims that the weird and totally annoying numbness in in my back will likely subside, over time. I can start moving my arms when I walk, thus freeing me from the very odd gait of someone who moves her legs like a power walker, but keeps her arms straight at her side. I'm sure that my neighborhood has been enjoying laughing at me for that.

Also, he cleared me for driving and lifting Owen (yea) ... and vacuuming (boo). Among all of these other things, he said: "You're a joy to look at."

That sounds creepy, right? But I think he was trying to be nice ... or impressed with his own work ... perhaps both.

So, I have enjoyed a weekend of hugging my children and going out to meals for my birthday and viewing poisonous frogs at the zoo. I'm pretty tired now, and my muscles ache a little more than they did before, but I have been wearing real shirts (without front zippers) for two days now. Oooh, AND, I hardly get stuck in them at all! Hooray!

Tomorrow we see the oncologist. Hopefully all of the results from the genetic tests and the oncotyping will be back. (In case you aren't an expert with the cancer lingo, the oncotyping is the test for which my evil, cancerous cells flew to California) These reports will help us to determine whether we go with the medicinal route, the ovary removal route or the hysterectomy route, plus which doctor we trust to perform the procedures. It should be a big and revealing day.

Pray that it goes as well as Friday. (But, not quite the same. I don't need any more doctors to inspect my chest, and then comment on my physique, if you don't mind.)