Cut me open, slice me up

Yesterday, at Inspire Health, I ran into someone I met at the 2-day seminar H and I attended last month. She's about my age, went through the same exact trial, had surgery, radiation--the whole bit. We chatted a bit about surgeons, which was a good thing because I discovered that we also both had gone to the same surgeon initially--and both of us had the same reaction: her people skills sucked to an appalling degree.

I thought it was just me; and I also thought it was to be expected, the coldness of surgeons. But through chatting with this woman, I discovered that there are actually surgeons out there who are caring and good! To think...

I would love a support group where we could talk about these things without being afraid. For me, it's hard to question doctors and such, because I've been taught that my life is in their hands. I'm learning that my life is in my hands.

Brandy Interview Slideshow

[i did this quickie slideshow...a bit self-indulgent, but what about this blog isn't, after all? enjoy...or not!]

Growing and Not Knowing

This sucker is growing fast. Last week, when I went into see the trial nurse and oncologist, I told them how the pain has moved from the site where I first discovered the abnormality (on the left side of my right breast) to just near my armpit. The trial nurse straight up told me that the tumor is growing, not faster, but exponentially--which to me, just means faster cuz I mean, the sucker doubles and doubles and doubles some more. Then when I got the core biopsy done last week, I asked the technician (who was a tad clueless) to move the ultrasound thing over to my pit to check out what was going on there. So instead of just seeing the one lymph node I was expecting to see, I saw two--the bulging one that you can now feel by touch without having to look for it (before, the oncologist had to find it and push into my pit to locate it), and a smaller one beside it. So I'm like--getting this fucking shit out of me now!!!!

But you know, the consolation is that Chloe and Mylo have no clue. So everyday, I'm just Mama. Not Mama Who Has Cancer. They make the day go by quickly with all that's involved in raising an almost-four and almost-three year old. They want to snack, go outside, destroy spider webs (I discourage this, but what to do...), listen to sea shells, make up stories about caterpillars eating ice cream and cookies and going into the cocoon and coming out fat butterflies, count and point out colours of trees and mountains and houses and cars; they want to protest naps and baths, but when they nap and bathe, they're happier. Chloe saw the big bloody strips and gauze on my biopsy site when I was changing clothes the other day, and she asked me if I had a boo-boo. I said yeah. She asked me if I was going to the doctor. I said I already went. She asked me how many doctors. I said two. She said, "Two doctors?" For some reason, it really intrigued her. Kids really have such a sense of wonderment. And then she wanted to paint her fingernails and toenails, which we did. Now, I'm really into painting nails.

As corny as this is, I'm trying to take my lessons from the kiddins.

The Night Before...

It's the night before tomorrow. Wow, that sounds so zen, doesn't it? Seriously though, tomorrow is my second appointment with the oncologist. Henry and I will meet with Dr. B to go over all the test results from the past week and a bit. Yesterday and today, I had scans and xrays, blood tests and agony and questions and long, hot baths and sleepless nights. Tomorrow, a bunch of questions will be answered and a bunch more will pop up, but hopefully in the next couple of days, my chemo treatment will start and all the alien nastiness invading Planet Brandy will begin to be wiped out. Vive la revolution!


{the view from our hotel room in waikiki}

My time with the zen master dude was interesting. After four hours of zenness, my head hurt. The first hour, Henry demonstrated his zen knowledge with zen master dude. The next two hours, zen master dude grilled me on my existence. Picture a circle. Now picture a squiggly circle around the other circle. The inner circle is me. The squiggly circle is the stuff around me, the stuff I'm attached to. Do I want to find out what's in the inner circle? . . . Now think of this: 0=∞. . . . Then zen master dude asked me "Why purple hair?" My thought bubble, "Because I like purple, Roshi." But I think I gave some fumbling lame reason which made Roshi just stare at me.

So then zen master dude wanted me to play a shakuhachi, which he told me is a flute. People from my Mifflintown years will bust a gut because they know how much I sucked at playing the flute. BUT despite my suckiness at being a flautist, I did it for, let me see, oh, five years. Anyway, the shakuhachi isn't the kind of flute you're thinking of. It looks more like a recorder, and it's used for meditation. It's fucking hard as fuck to play. I tried for an hour. My cheeks hurt. But another zen master dude said that I had a rare quality for a beginner to play such clear, strong notes with such purpose. Rock on! So there I was, in the training room, with zen master flute player, and this other dude who was practicing martial arts and was chanting sutras which sounded like a bullfrog and me blowing away, and Henry just sitting there. I totally felt like I was in an anime movie, and that we were all going to transform into forest creatures or earthly structures.


{me and H in leis made by our friends Hoku and Kaipo}

As funny as that all sounds, the zen master meeting has stuck with me. Of course, I think it's probably pretty common to think of existence questions when faced with life / death situations, but zen master dude number one kept asking me, what's stopping me from finding out about the now? Am I really that attached to my suffering and my past? These are questions as unanswerable as others right now.

Honestly though, today sucked ass. I feel so freakin' lame. For an hour, I shopped online for cool fabric so I could sew myself some head coverings. Then I decided that I didn't want to buy any fabric and sew head coverings, so then I was down on myself for wasting all this time.

But I can't help but notice the things that people have done. It makes me want to get out of my rut that I've dug myself in. For instance, Russell writing a poem for me today; Vicki sending me a bear and a bag from PA Dutch country (and frisbees for Chloe and Mylo); Hilary callling to ask when she could bring over frozen turkey soup she made; Betty bringing me head coverings from the cancer centre, and a lavendar eye pillow she made for me; Candace bringing over costumes for the kids and smoked salmon her husband caught and Chinese bbq pork; friends of friends who have offered their advice, help, and resources; my in-laws for helping with the kids; my parents for making plans to come out here to help; the lady from the Canadian Cancer Society who called today to help set me up with someone who's gone through a similar experience; CCHS for bringing me flowers; people who've emailed me on Myspace, 43things, Facebook, and here; Chris for watching the kids yesterday morning; Heidy and Greg for watching the kids last night; other people who have emailed to offer their help and company; my green towel for keeping purple dye off my pillow and for catching those random tears; Henry and the kids for bearing with me; and Victoria for organizing a team, "Brandy's Babes," for the Race for the Cure (http://ocraceforthecure.kintera.org/brandysbabes).

Yesterday, Henry and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary at Le Crocodile. We had a South African wine called Graceland (2004). The only reason I'm writing that here is so I'll remember what that wine was, cuz it was good!


{rowr! le crocodile}

So anyway, when I figure out what 0=∞ means, I'll be laughing (as my fiction prof Maureen would say), but until then, I'm just scratching my head.

This Sucks More Than I Thought

Just got back from my oncologist appointment, which lasted two and a half hours. They had lots to say. Apparently, most women going in for breast cancer have one lump requiring surgery and radiation or some such. Me, I have three--three confirmed, I should add, as the doctor said--which cover a large portion of my breast. When the docs said the word "mastectomy," it was kind of hard to hear. Sure, I've been joking about it, but to actually think of it as something that's become my reality, it was sort of like, oh shit.

So in the next few weeks, I'm going to have a bunch of blood tests, bone scan, chest x-ray, ultrasound and god knows what else done. Then start my first round of chemo. I'm going go through chemo for about six months. Then the mastectomy (hopefully, some miraculous shrinkage will occur so this won't have to happen), and then radiation. There goes about a year of my life.

This is really fucked up. Like, for real. Henry was good--taking notes and asking questions. I'm glad to see that those years at Princeton didn't go to waste. He even got to give the doc a quick lecture on the history of migration in the Pacific region. :)

Well....well. Okay, so like everything else, I must deal with this with the same gusto as ever!

this wacky cancer business

I have my first appointment with the oncologist tomorrow. Today, my parents called and asked if I heard anything from the doctor. I lied and said no. Why? I haven't no idea. Doesn't make any sense to me. But it was kind of like this juvenile impulse--like when parents ask their kids what they did at school and the kids say, "nuthin'." I guess it's also kind of like now, they're worried about *when* the doctor will call, which might be slightly better than worrying about the upcoming appointment and what will be said? Yeah, I don't know.

Honestly though, I feel pretty much the same, except everyday, I wake up, walk to the bathroom, take a piss, and say, "Shit, I have cancer." But really, it can't be that bad, can it?

On the upside, I had an idea that if I have to get a mastectomy or something, I'm gonna get some nice fake titties and make a t-shirt that says, "Bionic Boobs." That'll be really hot, especially with the new Bionic Woman series starting in the fall.