Tale of the Twins - Part 3

[Continued from Part 2]

I've read horror stories of other women who had doctors that treated it as eczema for MONTHS, only to find out later that it was, indeed, cancer - and the delay in treating it as so had progressed it even further.

Have you ever seen a black breast? I don't think I could stand to google anything related to breast, lesion, itchy, pus - whatever - anymore. The images are already burned into my head.

My lesions got worse over the weekend, and on Monday morning, I was placing another call to my primary physician. They squeezed me in that same afternoon and Hubz met me at the doctor's office.

A second set of questions. A second breast exam.

Except this time, the doc gave me a cream to rub on the lesions, and set me up for more doctor appointments:

• One with the surgeon
• One with the dermatologist
• And one with a mammography technician
  

Thank GOD he jumped on this and didn't make me wait everything out, one by one. He even gave me some meds to deal with the hives that were still hangin' around.

And you know what?

I saw results the VERY next day. Hallelujah.

Cream, cream and more cream. Whatever it was, it was working. And when I met with the surgeon, the twins were lookin' much, MUCH better.

Breast cancer on top of the skin is very rare. And highly unusual to have it on both breasts. But it still needed to be ruled out

So when we did the mammography the following week, we took scans of every possible angle in existence. You can imagine my joy, 2 weeks later and 6 weeks since that first sign, when I received a letter in the mail that said:

"No evidence of cancer was seen on your mammogram."

Thank the Lord!

And thank you to all of you who for your well wishes and all your support. I had no idea what happened, or what caused this - and neither do the doctors. I'm still dealing with it today, and with the hives I had on the side, I'm left with scars all over my arms and legs.

But you know what? I'd take the scars over the other - any day.


[Click here for "Tale of the Twins" Part 1 and Part 2]

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Tale of the Twins - Part 2

[Continued from Part 1]

Hubz was already at work and Mama was halfway across the world in the Philippines. There wasn't anything they could do just then so I figured I'd just wait until Hubz got home.

Skin rash? On both breasts? But it doesn't get any better.

Later that evening, I'd decided to check the twins, and found that they had stuck to my bra.

Did that come out right?

Taking the bra off was like peeling off a band-aid, and a close inspection told me I now had an orangey-green crust inside my bra, coming from said rashes.

Holy shit.

Did I tell you they weren't even rashes anymore? They were secreting pus (ugh!), and looked like open sores. Lesions.

I thought I was going to cry.

But I'm not a crier. And especially not in public. Not even if I wanted to. Oh, watery eyes, yes. A sting in my nose, yes. But if I end up shedding any tears, it's usually out of pure frustration. Or utter empathy.

Instead I went straight to the bathroom and started scrubbing. And to my horror, I watched what looked like little beads of sweat start to appear on the lesions I had just scrubbed clean.

But it's not sweat. It's friggin' pus.

Hubz is home now and, of course, I'm starting to freak out. But the "T" in him balances me out and assures me it's probably just some kind of rash.

I love that about us... We've developed some kind of system in knowing who has to be the stronger one, and when.

And even if I didn't agree, I let myself mirror his thoughts, and said another prayer. I gave it to God, and put it out of my head. We agreed to wait a few days, and if it didn't get better, we'd call the doctor's office.

I made the call on Friday. Except he wasn't there that day. And when they heard why I was calling, they got me in that morning to see another doctor.

In the doctor's office, I stayed calm and lighthearted. Had a nice conversation with both the nurse and the doctor, who had me undress and gave me a breast exam as well.

I liked the doc, she listened and asked questions. She didn't make me feel like I was being a silly, paranoid woman or like I was eating up her time.

But I read her face. And she was worried.

She'd never seen anything like this before, and wasn't quite sure what to do. So we decided to treat it like eczema, and to come back in a week for a follow up.

The next Friday, things were lookin' up. This miracle cream may be made for cattle, and even if these ones hadn't been milked in a while, Bag Balm sure did help.

What a relief!

But the weekend came and soon changed my spirits...

[To be continued... Click here for Tale of the Twins - Part 1 of 3]

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Tale of the Twins - Part 1

I've been wanting to write this for a while now... just couldn't figure out how to put it.

So I figured I'd just give it to ya straight.

For all of April, and most of May, I saw one of 3 doctors every week, and even got a mammogram. I had chronic hives that would NOT go away, leaving me to scratch my skin raw, without even realizing it until I drew blood.

I was so embarrassed, I hardly left the house.

My mammography technician was as sweet as pie, and during the hour-and-a-half process, I learned that these usually take about 15 minutes.

So what the hell happened with me?

They were looking for cancer.

It happened on a Monday. I was in the shower, and noticed I had a bump on the left breast. Not inside, mind you.

It was on the outside, on my areola. About the size of a nickel. WTF?

I got a closer look at it, and blinked my eyes - wondering if I was seeing things???

It had a strange layer of film over it, that was peeling. And FUCK. It was tender to the touch. And it itched like hell.

But this was just the beginning. I checked the right breast, and whoa - there's another one there. Same spot, just under the nipple.

Not as big (about the size of a dime), but in the same general area.

Still in the shower, I'm trying not to wig out. I wash and scrub, and wash my hands over and over again - afraid it might be some type of contagious rash and not wanting it anywhere else on my body.

I try to be as normal as possible. I get Joel settled and grab my laptop out of the office. We plump down on the sofa and while he's hollering answers at Noggin', I'm answering emails.

I'm trying not to think about it. I'm wondering what the hell could it be - and soon switch to the home laptop.

Now try googling "breast rash nipple areola" and see what you get.

See if you don't start to see the words "cancer" and "paget's" and "misdiagnosis."

I was freaking myself out. I started to think, "What if?" and began to imagine my boys growing up without their mother...

I had to pull myself away from it all, and offer up my prayers. And did my darndest to let it go.

"His shoulders can carry more than ours, right?"

And then I waited.

[To be continued...]

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Hubby Needs to Get a Clue

I took a nap today.

Not after lunch. Not even in the afternoon.

I excused myself at 5:30pm, thinking I was going to take a 20-minute cat nap. It had been a rocky, chaotic day and I'd had my fill. To top it off, it didn't matter that I was already over on hours for the week, I still had a whole load of other projects to tend to before Friday.

Joel fell asleep when we went to pick up JC at 4:30pm, so after going through work email one more time, I found myself noddin' off at my desk. What is it about being emotional that makes me so sleepy?? Is that my defense mechanism?

I told the older kids we'd grab a bite to eat in a bit, and left them to their cartoons. The next thing I know, I woke up from a dream, not quite myself just yet...

And found that my clock said 7:30pm. WTF?!

I dashed out the room and found Joel still asleep. Well there goes bedtime, right?

And found the other 2 exactly where I left them. "You guys hungry?" I asked?

It was 7:30pm. They usually eat at 5:30pm. Of course, they're hungry - MOM.

But I started getting dizzy myself and told them we'd have to go out another night. We had a crappy combination of Kid Cuisine, chimichangas and pizza. It worked.

Skinny Ass came home at 9pm. And at 9:30pm, I put all 3 kids in the car and we took off for ice cream. Yes, I'm irritated with him today. Even if he's only part of it.

It amazes me that even though I'm a WAHM of 3, he still has NO clue of what it takes to balance my day. Balance work with the kids and the house... He called me for something he needed when I was going out the door to pick up JC, and at that point, I barely had time to brush my teeth that morning. Forget the shower.

He doesn't realize that what he's asking isn't always as simple as he thinks it should be.

Like going out to Starbucks to buy gift cards for work means either he goes for me, or I put 2 sick kids in their car seats to come with me. Or how errands need to be timed around nap times in between mealtimes or you'll have one grouchy toddler to deal with.

He can't even remember who needs to get picked up at what time on what day.

And when Joel was still awake at 11pm, he said to him in singsong, "You're still awake coz Mommy gave you ice cream at 10 o'clock at night."

No dipshit. He's awake coz he took a 3 hour nap. If you're gonna talk shit - get your facts straight.

I wish I could've enjoyed my Butterfinger Sonic Blast. But I just don't have an appetite when I'm irritated. Damn - I just realized... I could almost turn that into a diet plan.

Almost.

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I Thought Quality Time Came WITH the Marriage

Skinny Ass is irritated with me. He hates, hates, HATES it when I surf the Internet.

I think he liked it better when I sat next to him on the couch while he surfed through channels on the TV. I was still a little naive back then, and I'd tell myself we could catch up on the day's events during commercials.

Yeah, right. Then I woke the f- up.

Quality time to him is doing the above. To the tee. (I could even be reading a book - just not surfin' the net.)

"We're spending time together," he says emphatically.

What?! My idea of QT is actually any kind of conversation OTHER than the following:

• --What the kids did today in school
• --What happened at work today
• --What bills need to be paid
• --What to do with the little league sign up's
• --What to bring for the wrestling tournament
• --What surprise came in the mail today
• --What needs to be cleaned up in the house

And yadifrigginyada.

It's all logistics. Stuff that comes with the territory of managing your family and household. Makes you wonder what the h*ll we talked about BEFORE we got married, huh?

So imagine my surprise when at the dinner table last night, he actually says something more... meaningful....

We were having KFC with all the fixin's. As he's contemplating his cole slaw and mashed potatoes, he looks away from me, head tilted upward in thought and says quietly:

>>Skinny Ass: "KFC has the best side dishes. Makes me think of my mom..."

I almost choked on some fried chicken.

His mom passed in 2006, she had been battling Alzheimer's for many long years... His dad passed in 1998, almost seemingly not wanting to fight the brain tumor without his wife beside him. A common question in the family for the longest time was:

"If you had to choose between dying from Alzheimer's and dying from a brain tumor - which would it be?"

He doesn't talk about them.

>>Me (after a half second pause): "Did you guys eat at KFC a lot?"

>>Skinny Ass: "Nah. But she'd cook up a whole dinner of fried chicken, then run out to KFC for the sides. Kinda like goin' to Carl's Jr. for a baked potato."

And he laughed. So we talked a little more, and inside my heart was silently tearing in two.

It wants to dance, because of the little piece inside of him that made him feel open enough to share with me today.

And it wants to cry out, for I know how much he misses them and how he wishes that they could've known his sons.

Quality time for me is getting to know someone. What's inside, what makes them tick. What their idiosyncracies are and what pet peeves do they have. What makes them laugh out loud. What breaks them into tears.

I don't need to have a steak and lobster dinner with a dozen roses for some quality time with my hubby. I love the little stuff. A simple flower just because, a soft caress on the arm or a squeeze on my shoulder, a phone call in the middle of the day...

Even a little tidbit inspired from some KFC. :)

It lets me know he's thinking of me. Even if we're always going 100 miles an hour. It separates us from being room mates, and instead, husband and wife.

What about you? How do you manage to find quality time with yours?

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A Sister's Heart: Part II

(Continued from "A Sister's Heart, Part I")

The following morning, she rises from a sleepless night, and sneaks out of bed before waking her husband. The night before wasn't much more than the typical homework and bedtime routines. The usual standoff's in an attempt to push "lights out" just a little bit later than normal. But after that: Quiet.

She couldn't talk about the phone call with her brother. Not to her mom, not to her husband... She had never spoke so directly to her brother like that, not in their adult lives. Always holding back, not wanting to tell him what to do or what he should do... not wanting to influence his decisions.

And not wanting to push him away.

But He must've heard her prayer, for she found the resolve to speak her mind. Her heart. And her fears.

One Christmas, she gave him the movie "Men of Honor" - because it so reminded her of him. Who he is and what he stands for. Truly, a man in his greatest worth.

But where is this man? He makes an appearance here and there, but his presence isn't as strong anymore. It's as if something has taken over... clouded his thoughts, and his decisions.

She is at the edge of her seat, wanting to physically shake his shoulders if he were near. "Stand up for your family, damn it!"

But he doesn't see it that way. He IS standing up for his family.

His new family.

He's young and newly married. With a baby on the way. He doesn't understand "family values" as a whole. He asked me, "What does it say in the Bible?"

"Honor thy father and mother!" I replied.

But he wasn't talking about that. He was referring to Genesis. How man and woman will leave their father's house to make a life for their own. Doesn't see the point of calling your family regularly, or even to stop by on Christmas. He has his own family to take care of.

But she reminds herself that she was once there, too... She remembers being a young, newly married mother. Busy playing house and self centered and inconsiderate of the efforts those put forth around you.

She remembers.

And she can see it happening now, in front of her. She sees them drifting apart, for reasons more complicated than they need to be, and more.

She tells him this, and he listens. They agree that they've both been holding back, and there's no need to do so. And after several more disagreements, they agree to give it to God, that whatever happens will be His will.

It's the first time they've talked so openly for so long, without the polite salutations.

Afterwards, she reflects for a moment before leaving the seclusion of her bedroom. And she is ever hopeful, that this will help change the way things are. She sees her brother in a slightly new light, and is thankful he took the time to call her back.

Thankful that her son had little league practice that night, so that her husband would actually be home before 8pm. Thankful that she made dinner early that night. Thankful that the Lord is always so faithful.

***

This is it. I'm letting go. I know they say to give your problems to the Lord. But how can I pray for Him to keep me safe in the car and not put on my seat belt?

I still need to do my part. And with His strength, I have. I'm ready to let go, and let live.

I love you, B...

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A Sister's Heart, Part I

Piles of paperwork surround her in the kitchen. School notices, practice schedules, bills to be paid, and taking center stage: High school registration forms that need to be completed before the next morning’s meeting. Her eldest is selecting courses for his freshman year.

The phone rings. It’s him.

“Hello. Hello?”

It’s the usual “Hi, how are you?” and “How was your day…” In between the 6-year old’s questions and the 3-year old’s demands for more drawings, she strains to hear him. She scrambles for her Bluetooth headset and does something that surprises both herself and her family. She leaves the chaos where it is to seek some quiet time in her bedroom.

And slowly… her heart begins to open up. She’s nervous about telling him everything. What she sees. What he’s doing about it. What he’s not doing. What she’s not doing. And especially, how they’re relationship has changed… how distant it’s become.

She misses him. But more importantly, she’s concerned for him. Never mind that their relationship has always been a bit skewed. It doesn’t help to remember how cold, how brutal she was to him as a teenager. She still flinches when she thinks about times that she’d whack him upside the head. In front of his friends. For what? She can’t recall. Probably irritating her in some slight degree with her reacting in full force.

She had issues. Problems. Things you don’t talk about in public. Or to anyone, for that matter. Things you know you'll take to your grave to protect your children, your family. To spare the pain from those closest to your heart.

Years later, she brings up their childhood to apologize, and he won’t hear it. He had almost forgotten it all and gave her the pardon she didn’t think she was going to get. In spite of her unexplained behavior, he had forgiven her.

And now, she sits on the recliner in her bedroom, door shut. The first time her husband walked in, he just stood there and looked at her. Wondering who in the world she was talking to. But it only took him half a minute. He quickly figured it out and took the boys outside to play before the sun set.

The conversation on the phone has turned. Both are heated. And both have very, very good points. She can almost feel him slipping… in her mind she fast forwards 5 years from that moment and doesn’t see him and his family around the Christmas tree. The image forcefully kicks in. Something comes up and he puts her on hold. The timing couldn’t have been better ‘cause she doesn’t want him to hear her. She takes advantage of the unexpected stillness and silently finishes a quick prayer.

He’s back on the line now, and they take it up again in hushed, tender steps. Her husband comes back to check on her, stands in front of her, hands on his hips with his head tilted to get a glimpse of her face.

She refuses to make eye contact him. She knows that if she were to look him in the eyes, if she connected with him, if he even reached out to hug her, touch her… That the slightest human connection would fracture the dam. And then there would be nothing to hold back the flood.

(To be continued...)

"A Sister's Heart: Part II"

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No More Percocet

Growing up, I've always heard phrases like, "Give your problems to Lord," and "His shoulders can carry more than yours."

But I could never really understand HOW to do it. "How do you give your problems away?" I'd ask myself. "They'll still be there for you to deal with it afterwards. I don't understand."

Today I learned that the mother of a hotel manager in our region just recently had brain surgery. For an aneurysm.

A flood of memories rushed over me, and I silently thanked God for always being so faithful. Some may remember, that my own mother (Mama, as the boys call her), had the same surgery in November 2002. Except she was on the table for 12 hours instead of the scheduled 6.

After the craniotomy (operation to open the skull), her neurosurgeon was greeted with a surprise: A second aneurysm. Which explains why the surgery took twice as long as expected.

That's a long time to be on the operating table, a long time to keep steady hands, and a long time for those of us on the outside, waiting for any updates. I kept my journal with me, writing down any thoughts that came to mind and prayers that brought me comfort. I tried to keep myself distracted but every time I found myself starting to worry again, I'd pray. Pray for her strength, pray for the doctors and nurses operating on her, pray for a successful surgery, pray for acceptance of God's will... whatever the outcome may be.

We caught a glimpse of her as they were moving her to ICU after surgery... The image of her laying on the stretcher, motionless and swollen with her head wrapped in gauze.... It was both frightening and reassuring. To see her in such a vulnerable state - but OH, so thankful that she made it out of there.

The next couple of weeks were a daze... my Dad and I took turns in ICU with her, the other trying to catch some sleep on a waiting room sofa. He came running to get me one moonlit night when Mama became unreasonable and forceful - she was completely outside herself. I soon learned that certain medications caused her to act and behave differently. We eventually got her to calm down, and later she was stabilized and moved into recovery. The nursing staff even brought me a cot to sleep on so that I could stay by her side.

I woke up with a start one morning, shocked to see her sitting up in bed by herself. Even more so without the bandages on her head anymore, but simply tossed onto her lap like an afterthought as she struggled to remove her leg massagers.

I WAS SILENTLY WIGGIN' OUT.

"Hi Mom - what are you doing?" I asked, calmly. Trying NOT to stare at the metal staples now exposed on her head.

A child-like voice came out of the grown woman in front of me. "Oh, nothing..." Pause. "I think I'd like to go to the bathroom."

"Okay," I replied, and motioned to the leg massagers, "Can I get that for you?"

I think she was relieved because she let out a breath and leaned back to let me help her. Like a child. Talking to me with her little voice, all of a sudden making me feel like we've somehow switched roles. Later on, Papa (my Dad) brought us McDonald's and when I didn't finish my breakfast, she actually ate my leftovers.

Mama NEVER eats anyone's leftovers.

I told the nurse, "No more Percocet."

A week or so later, she was released from the hospital and I stayed with her and Papa at the house for a while. Joseph brought over the recliner so she could sleep more comfortably, and he took another week off from work to watch the boys.

But then I finally returned home, alone for the first time since the surgery that took place 2 weeks before. Exhausted in mind, body and heart, I waited for the waterfall of tears to take over as I entered the serenity of being in my own house.

And you know what happened?

Stillness. An unexpected peace. No emotions held back, no dam of tears trying to break through. I stretched my arms outward, tilted my head back with eyes shut to the world and took a deeeeeeep breath.

"So this is what it feels like," I said to myself. And my life changed in that moment.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

-Philippians 4:6-7

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