Something Borrowed

When my dog, Zephyr, comes home from the groomers, she's usually wearing a jaunty bandanna around her neck. At the risk of sounding anthropomorphic, I think she likes accessorizing. She doesn't scratch or pull at the bandanna. When you take the scarf off, Zephyr barks vigorously and only quiets down when you put it back around her neck.

Usually, these little dog scarves are cut out of "seasonal" fabrics. In July, the groomers dress her in a flag pattern. In April, she may come home wearing bunnies or chicks. After a few years of this, I just couldn't hold my tongue any longer. One day when we got home from the groomers, I asked her straight out, "Do you like being dressed like an elementary school teacher?" She sniffed back at me and left the room. Clearly, I had gone too far. But undeterred, I went out the next day and bought her a traditional hippie-style bandanna in a nice shade of blue. Now, when she comes home from the groomers, I take off the seasonal garb, and she wears the blue bandanna for a while.

The other day, I was looking around the house for something that could cover my nearly bald head, and I spied the dog's scarf in a pile of clean laundry. These being desperate times, I asked her, "Zephyr, can I borrow this?" She said, "Yeah, go ahead. It's not my best color." Although I was a little taken aback because she had never once complained about the shade, I tied her bandanna around my head. We both agreed that it looked better on me than on her. Later, she confided that she preferred the scarves with the pumpkins and the candy canes.

Believe what you will, but I truly have sunk to wearing my dog's neck-ware as headgear. Along these same lines, if I dig deeply enough into my closets, I may be able to find those old Boy Scout scarves that my kids cast off long ago and recycle them as head coverings. For the record, I'm drawing the line at borrowing Zephyr's bunny scarf. She's a very loyal dog, and I'm sure that she'd loan it to me if asked her. But with spring just around the corner, she'll probably want to wear it herself.

Sawing Logs

Last weekend, my son, Joe, came home from college for a visit. When Joe blows in, so do a handful of other 20-year-olds, kids he has known for years. They hang out in Joe’s room, plug in their instruments, play music together, consume copious amounts of food, battle each other in video games, eat more food, play more music, and gobble up some snacks. Did I mention that they eat a lot?

Anyway, we love to have them around. They’re great kids, and if they’re under my roof, I know where they are. Also, the floor plan of our house is laid out so that, if they’re in Joe’s room, Dennis and I can’t hear them from our room, which makes the whole thing work really.

I'm sharing this Hallmark son-home-from-college moment because you need it to understand what happens next.

Of the many possible side effects of chemo, the one that they failed to mention was chemo’s effect on sleep patterns. I am experiencing the deep sleep of, well, a person on drugs. As soon as my head is horizontal, I drift off and don’t revive until morning. But with this deep slumber comes one little snag. According to my husband, I’m snoring like a 200 lb. trucker, who has remedied his hay fever with a six-pack or two. To get some rest, Dennis has been heading to the couch.

This past Saturday, I nodded off to sleep as usual, and began my cacophonous dream cycle. But on this particular night, the rest of our house was not so quiet. Joe and his crew had turned his room into their dorm away from college. On one end of the house, I was snoring thunderously. On the opposite end, the 20-year-olds were sending up some noise rock, a musical form akin to punk, only less accessible than punk. (At least I'm guessing that's what they were doing. I was sound asleep at the time.)

Dennis, who has a heightened sensitivity to noise anyway, soon abandoned our bed to relocate on the couch. But that spot wasn't any better. Although the sofa was an acceptable distance from the sonorous snoring in our bedroom, it was adjacent to a different high decibel neighborhood -- Joe's room.

I think we can all agree that a husband who tells his chemo-laden wife to stop snoring is a louse. But a dad who shuts the college kids down after the big hand passes midnight is just being reasonable. Joe's friends, all well-mannered people, packed up quickly and left, restoring the house to its equilibrium.

The message in this story is perhaps the secret to an enduring marriage:

When I snore, I'll never be sore if you head for the door.
But don't disturb me, because that will perturb me.

Sweet dreams.

!#@&!*%#

Ordinary words can be strung together to explain what it's like to lose one's hair, both rapidly and involuntarily. But these expressions need to be liberally peppered with the strongest expletives, or they just fall short. You get the picture, so I'll skip the cursing here.

Unlike my dog, whose hair falls out in clumps and lands on the floor, mine has been falling out in strands and landing everywhere -- on my pillow, on my collar, on my computer keyboard, AND all over the floor.

In desperation, I again called Jay, the hairdresser, and he told me when to arrive at the salon. When I stepped in the door, I immediately saw that the place was completely empty, except for Jay. Without telling me, he had given me an appointment when the shop was closed. He wanted to spare me any needless embarassment. How thoughtful was that. Later, it occurred to me that, when diagnosed, breast cancer patients are advised to amass the best possible team -- breast surgeon, oncologist, radiation specialist, pathologist. But it turns out that the hairdresser is an overlooked, but invaluable, part of the group. He or she provides massive emotional support and is called upon to handle some tough situations with sensitivity and grace.

I left the salon with very, very short hair, but still had enough of my locks intact for them to peek out from under a baseball cap. If I continue to shed at the same rate, however, I'll be back in the chair soon enough to have the remaining strands finally shaved off. (Note to Jay: I owe you big time. You're a gem.)

Tomorrow, I receive the second chemo round. Must get some rest now.

Wednesday, Feb. 13, 2008

The chemo session went fine today. The only problem thus far was that the oncologist was unhappy about the fever I spiked during the middle of the first cycle. He was worried that my white blood counts dropped too low, putting me at risk for infection. To prevent this from happening again, I have to return to his office tomorrow for an injection that will boost my white counts during this next cycle.

In all honesty, the chemo is proceeding fairly well, much better than I feared. But that has not stopped me from counting every day until I'm done. Today marks 25 percent finished with chemotherapy. Onward.

Screening Tool

Younger women. Thinner women. Asian women. Females who fall into these categories are more likely than other women to have dense breasts, which simply means that they lack fat in this part of their bodies. Unfortunately, mammograms miss nearly 50 percent of breast cancers in these women.*

I'm the poster child for this. I had a palpable growth in my breast that was simply not visible on my mammogram. In an especially absurd juxtaposition, I received a letter stating that my mammogram was negative in the same week that I received a lab report confirming that I had breast cancer. The letter saying my mammogram was clear might have more accurately reflected my situation by saying "due to dense tissue, unable to read." Instead, because doctors can't point to an actual problem, the medical community labels these results as "negative," which has the effect of giving women a false sense of comfort.

Patient information is seriously lacking here. Unless you know to ask the question, doctors never tell you that you have dense breasts, or that mammograms might not be effective. I first heard this term applied to me while I was having a breast biopsy and the radiologist casually remarked that she was having trouble injecting the pain reliever because I was "a young woman who still had very dense breasts." Over time, I came to understand just how significant this was.

Some women who are vaguely aware that traditional x-ray mammograms can miss breast cancers have told me that they put their trust in digital mammography, reasoning that it's more accurate than the older method. While this may be true, my breast cancer was still not detectable with the most state-of-the-art digital mammography available.

Ultrasounds do reveal tumors that mammograms don't show and are routinely used when doctors suspect that a patient's mammogram has failed to detect a problem. However, ultrasounds involve a technician moving a wand over a specific area. While an excellent tool for further investigation, ultrasound technology is not efficient enough to use as a broad cancer screening tool in the way that mammography is used. Similarly, MRIs will also reveal tumors in dense tissue, except MRIs are prohibitively expensive, and, except in high-risk women, it's doubtful that insurance will cover an MRI.

But a solution is on the horizon. Clinical trials are underway to test a new screening method called SonoCine, which is a computerized process that takes an ultrasound of the entire breast. SoneCine is available now in Southern California through the Hill Breast Center in Pasadena. (http://www.sonocine.com/) Researchers are finding that they are detecting some breast cancers using SonoCine, which were missed with mammography. According to its website, SonoCine is not a replacement for mammograms or doctor visits and is not for everyone. However, women with the density issue appear to benefit. SonoCine does not yet have FDA approval, but it looks to be a valuable screening tool that could save lives. Women who qualify can join this clinical trial now.

Chemo Update: I'm doing fairly well, as I round out the first cycle. My energy is coming back, just in time for next Wednesday, when they hit me with the second round. While I'm not looking forward to this, the sooner I get the drugs, the sooner I'll be done. So bring it on.

*according to www.sonocine.com

On Course

Flight Log
Rocket Ship CHEMO
02/04/08, Cycle #1, Day 13


TO: Central Command (and other interested parties)

Sorry for delay in posting. Experienced temporary setback. Symptoms of fever, malaise, and general flu-like yuckiness set in over last few days. Condition improved, however, evidenced by return of normal feisty disposition this morning. (Husband will confirm.) Pre-flight planning had forewarned of possible deblitating side effects, particularly at the mid-point of first CHEMO cycle, which is exactly when such symptoms appeared.

Rocket Ship still on course, and counting the days until Spring when CHEMO trip will be over. Proceeding with caution for now, but generally doing well.