our very own Thanksgiving day

I love the Thanksgiving tradition-the gatherings, expressions of gratitude for the sweetness of life and the shared feast-but I especially love the indulgence of a full day, or several days, of cooking, eating until I nearly pop, and knowing that there are leftovers galore to lead to turkey sandwiches, tetrazzini, hash, soup....there's a full-fridge factor that is deeply satisfying, and which I haven't had on the official day in a few years. Last year it was my health, this year it's my mom's, and the drive to do the dinner overwhelmed me when I saw a likely looking little turkey while out grocery shopping last week. So around here, in addition to the lovely day we spent joining the W family the evening after I returned from L.A.,  it was the 1st Saturday of December serving as Thanksgiving as well as the 4th Thursday of November.

It was a lovely warm day around 60 degrees, and I took Mom in her wheelchair out into the garden at the Courtyard where she is living. We sat in the sun for awhile and listened to the numerous bird songs providing the soundtrack. She seems less agitated by her situation over the last several days than she had back in L.A.; I hope that's an accurate impression, as there is no way to be sure from what she tells me that I'm getting it right. But she smiles a lot, and the ladies in her unit who share a table in the common room seem friendly. At the moment, it looks like she'll have to stay in skilled nursing for the foreseeable future as she is seeming less and less able to move independently. I'm trying to get a neurological workup scheduled for her, and she has one with an independent group scheduled for January, but I'm trying to get her in at Vanderbilt. Still many phone calls to make and papers to fax. The tasks are never ending, but the doing of them is less daunting with her nearby and having the opportunity to observe what is occurring.

It always seems like a crazy idea to make a whole holiday turkey dinner for two (I've done it before!), but although it was just the 2 of us tonight, I'll bring a plate to my mom tomorrow. Just a little something to share the season in a personal way. There's no way I can have her come to my home with the level of debilitation she's reached, and I'm trying not to give up hope that this can change for the better, but I'm not seeing any signs of it so far. So we do what we can do, and a picnic basket of home made holiday meal is within our power.

How I got here

I started this blog when I thought I might have ovarian cancer. There were signs tht this could be the case, after a long-stable cyst suddenly doubled in size and with my family history, so it qseemed a reasonable fear. When I decided to have the ovaries removed, a bilateral salpingo oopherectomy or BSO, i could not find any information the Internet regarding how other women with similar experiences had fared, I figured that my musings could prove informative to some one in the future facing a similar proceedure. That surgery ended up being uneventful and the subsequent hormonal repercussions minimal, and with the soon to follow baraast cancer diagnosis I continued to write about my thoughts and feelings through treatment with the continued hope of making sense of my own experience while perhaps offering something helpful to someone facing the same bad news and course of treatment.

The last few months, my own health is stable and I have been focused on my mother's. At some points that focus has become so consuming that it has threatened to compromise my ability to maintain my recently regained healthy status, but I'm getting it under control now. I literally haven't had time to write, despite the casual approach I take to this blog. Now that Mom is here in Nashville, I am able to help with her care in a way that requires less time and effort, and is generally less stressful, so I'm hoping to return to writing. It's been a very eventful time and whether or not anyone else is interested I want to record these events just in case I someday want to review the sequence of events or my thoughts at the time.

Still, it's been a long day and that's all in got for now...still learning how to type on the iPad, too. G'night.

Out of Italy and into the fire...

Well, I'm thrilled to be able to say that we did indeed have our vacation. It was amazing. And I thought up until the last moment that something was going to arise to prevent the fulfillment of the dream of this trip. In fact, one hour before we were to be picked up to go to the airport, Xena ran around a corner, slipped and yelped and turned out to have pulled off a rear toenail. I tried to doctor it myself but the nerve was exposed and she wouldn't let me touch it. So off to the vet, with me promising Dave as we walked out the door that I would leave her there if waiting for treatment would have made me late for our ride. The vet bandaged the foot, gave me a course of antibiotics to have her take twice daily for a week, I called the housesitter to give her the lowdown, and off to the airport we went, right on time.

The first flight was delayed and we had to run when we hit the Charlotte airport to get on our airbus to ride to Rome. It was one hell of a stressful day, but we did make it, and although our flight crew was quite unpleasant and our fellow passengers loud and obnoxious, proving that the "airbus" is aptly named, we did arrive the next morning in Rome, finding our charming deco-era hotel a block up Via Cavour, across from the station, in the heart of wonderful central Rome. Arriving too early for our room to be ready, the hotel treated us to a round of drinks in the roof garden bar where we could gaze from our Pallatine hill vantage point out on the Collosium and  domes and spires all over Rome.

Back at work today, I'm dealing with medical issues concerning my mother in between patients. She's been back in the hospital since last Monday, one week, so the vacation is truly over. I'm very glad we came home in time for me to rest a bit before returning to work, even if I have had to spend much time on the phone dealing with this situation.

I'll try to continue to record some remembrances of the trip each day. I wanted to keep a journal of the journey, but I often find while traveling that I'm way too busy being there to allow time to write about it. Will upload some of the pix we took as well. Can't wait for the next time! I had no idea just how badly I needed that vacation.

Just can't bear it right now

I have had a few messages asking why I haven't written in so long. My mom had a stroke a month ago. I miss my blog, but can't bear to write right now. Too much emotion with others involved, too many people who may be hurt by my expression of my own feelings, and I just can't write while self editing to this degree. More when the crisis is over. I'm continuing to write in the meantime, but not posting right now. Hope all are well. I've been having a hard time remembering all the positive messages I fed myself during cancer treatment, but try to remind myself each time I wake or lay down to sleep, that every good day is a good day, but cross-country medical emergencies make it hard to find the happy moments. I'm working on it.

Article

 http://www.vicc.org/news/2011/06/moving-on/

This article appeared in our cancer center's monthly magazine. I'm in there.  

Tomato Time

Despite my terror of ticks and my extreme allergy to mosquitoes, I manage to plant a small garden each summer. Just a tiny tomato patch and this year a 2 by 4 foot herb garden in which a few cherry tomato volunteers have sprouted vigorously enough that I didn't have the heart to pull them. All the plants are loaded with green fruit and have been for weeks, with nothing beginning to pink out. This is late for the persistence of premature produce, usually I have begun my harvest by this time of year.

Local farmer's markets make up for my tardy garden however, and the luscious, giant heirloom tomato beauties contribute to an over-sized bowl of Sugo Cruda, a recipe I got years ago from Beppe Gambetta and that we gorge on every summer. With dishes like this and the various salads I've been making lately, I have no trouble getting my daily 5 cups of fruits and veggies. A diet low in animal protein and high in fresh produce,  along with 30 minutes of exercise daily, is supposed to promote health. And I'm getting all of it, along with lots of green tea and supplements and sleep and fun, but I still stress slightly over the pain in my right hip that has bothered me for a few months, and every bug bite, and anything that might be a symptom that could possibly indicate illness. I truly believe that I am cured and am healthy and in the process of living the second half of my long glowing life, but nagging nervousness creeps in despite my best intentions to maintain a positive outlook. I do maintain it, but have to occasionally take on the doubt. Surely that is a normal, healthy response to factors that could indeed be fear-worthy. So, having these fleeting fears must be another indicator that I am healthy, right?

Chemo Brain?

I like to make yogurt out of milk that is just ready to turn...not sweet enough to put on cereal but not actually spoiled yet. I especially love to use raw milk for this, but don't have a source at the moment. Still, the milk I buy is organic and I love yogurt, without which I could probably live without dairy, and as long as I continue to eat milk products, I'm loving cheese too. Anyway, yesterday I took most of a half gallon of turning milk and made yogurt in the crock pot. It's easy, especially when spending the entire day at home, the way we chose to spend our holiday. The final step in the process is to wrap the pot in a heavy towel and leave in a warm spot for 12 hours or more. I usually leave it in the oven with the light on, just warm enough to ferment very successfully. Gotta remember that it's in there, though. And today, despite mentally noting this morning that I would need to remember to take it out when I got home from work, meaning to leave a note on the oven but not doing it, I came home, took a nap, got up to make dinner, turned on the oven, and didn't even think about it until I smelled the smoke. I was fortunate enough to avoid a fire (whew!) but I did melt the electric cord. I turned on the exhaust fan and opened the windows in the house and went to sit outside on the screen porch for an hour or so waiting for the fumes to clear. I got just about all of the plastic off of the oven racks and floor, but will have to scrub the dregs of it. Didn't hurt the yogurt a bit, but I will need a new crock pot!

Is that a chemo brained act, or just normal distraction? Actually, my interpretation of chemo brain is very word oriented. So I think my lapse today was just typical dumb behavior that could have been disastrous but fortunately was not. I feel sure I won't make that particular mistake again.

NED and me; RIP Mojo

written last night, Thursday June 30, 2011

Last Thursday I had appointments with the nurse practitioner I see for my feminine health needs (she follows me for the 3 fibroid tumors still in my inactive post-menopausal womb) as well as with my breast surgeon. The response to my examinations? NED. No evidence of disease. Ah...that's what we want to hear. At the cancer survivors celebration/education session at our medical center a couple weeks ago, one of my colleagues spoke about the emotional impact of cancer on adult patients, from diagnosis to survivorship. She revealed her status as a survivor, not just a social worker in the field, and reported that NED is her new best friend. I get it. I love NED.

It's been a good busy time lately, so busy I rarely get to write about all of the events that touch me, the daily experiences that I want to share with the occasional reader who stops here, but it's good to have the activity. I have to remind myself that I still am less than a year from chemo, still in the recuperation phase from numerous surgeries with general anesthesia and still significantly weaker than I was before diagnosis, not to mention being over 50. Still, it's frustrating to miss those thoughts that sounded so interesting when I spoke them to myself with my inner voice.

I don't want to allow this day to go by without comment though to memorialize my old cat, Mojo, who reached the end of his time today. He was the cat with the most personality of any I've ever known, and a great mouser, and Xena's best pal. He had insinuated himself into the home of some dear friends who lived at the end of a rural road with 4 cats and a cat door; many cats were dumped in the area and quite a few of them got the word on the kitty hotline that there was plenty to eat and an open door and from time to time one would move in, Mojo among them. I talked my friends into letting me have him.  Mojo weighed over 20 pounds in his heyday, and was so big that visitors coming to the door would often step back in alarm when they saw this friendly giant. He would chase and fetch a crumpled grocery receipt with glee, and would reach out from his perch on the back of the sofa to grab me with a declawed paw as I walked by just to create some contact and remind me that he was there. When we got Xena a few years ago, Mojo had already been here for several years, and at first the cat would not speak to me, so irritated was he that I had brought this big canine into his domain. But about a month later, one afternoon Mojo reached out from his nap on the floor and slapped Xena across the face as she walked by, then took off down the hall with the dog in chase. They have been best friends ever since and I worry about how Xena will handle being the only 4 legged critter in the house.

I sent this message to my friends and family that were particularly fond of Mojo:  He's been in failing health for several months now; he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism in February and for a while responded well to medication to treat that condition.

I took him to the vet today as for the past couple of days he has been looking very disoriented, having trouble breathing and only eating occasionally. The vet took an X-ray of his trunk and it was plain that he was in heart failure with too much fluid in his chest to have any hope of a remedy to his situation. We agreed that  the kindest thing to do would be to put him to sleep.

I stayed with him, and then went home with great sadness. I know we all will miss him. He was a truly great kitty.

Every Day is Survivor Day

Today Vanderbilt had their Survivor Celebration Day. Rain bucketed down this morning and I almost used it as an excuse to not go, but am glad I went. Got some good information, met some nice folks, heard Lance Armstrong's mom speak, and attended a presentation by one of my collegues who I had not known is a survivor herself. We're everywhere. There's way too much cancer but more and more of us are living long to complain about it. I couldn't make it through the entire event, though, and went to the Y later to work out on the bike for 45 minutes, having been reminded of the importance of exercise to survival and realizing that I have been slack on it for the last couple of weeks. This week, I've paid for last weekend's lack of sleep. I plan to get back in the groove of exercise and eating carefully next week, with the start I made today.

Last weekend in LA, I substituted calories for sleep, enjoying several yummy meals with my folks where I set aside my usual attempts at controlled nutrition and stayed up late each night visiting, propelled by adrenalin and the joy of being in my native land with the ocean breeze nourishing me. I loved the course that had provided the opportunity to take the trip home, and loved being with my family for the all-too-brief time.

I thought I was handling it all so well, but at the last moment, I realized my exhaustion when I went to pull my computer out of my backpack at airport security, and it was not there. After a panicked moment, I remembered that I had left it on the desk in my parent's house, having tried and failed to use it to print my boarding pass. Thank goodness for helpful sisters; Jill sent it back to me and all is well. But I am once again woefully behind on this blog. More soon. 

I Recognize This Life

Written yesterday, 5/31/11 but unable to post for some frustrating electronic reason:

It's the end of May and the temperature is in the 90's. The dog is romping in the yard chasing and snacking on cicadas and Dave and I are relaxing on the screen porch after repainting the iron furniture as the sun goes down and the evening rises. We discuss having a party and I feel invigorated and excited at the prospect, eager to make the plan. Later the cat stretches out next to the steaming bath tub, glad to be near water as is his Maine Coon nature. These days I come home from work, make dinner, putter around the house and have enough energy, usually, to do it all. I recognize this life.

It's interesting how the cancer experience consumes one's life while the immediacy is on, while one is in treatment and recuperating, going from surgery to surgery, chemo to radiation, numerous doctor visits, support groups, frequent naps. But once in full-on survivor mode, having survived and moved on, it's hard to remember how enervated I was for so much of last year. Now as vitality rises again, I'm back to feeling that I can make plans, tackle projects, go to work with gusto. I feel as though I was a survivor while I was going through treatment and now am something else, something beyond that. I have no words for it...I'll have to contemplate this some more. Been there, done cancer, survived it, moved on. But I feel good, and I don't care what you call it. Feeling good is what it's all about.

Some of that good feeling is probably due to being refreshed after the long weekend. I really needed that break from the 5-days-a-week grind and loved having 3 whole days off to hang out with my honey and have minimal scheduled time. And returning today I had a short one. That helps. Tomorrow is a long day; I'm ready.

I'm Still Here

Thunder, lightening, rain falling and breezes pushing branches to scratch on the screen walls of the porch. Cicada songs are so loud during the day that we have to shout at each other as we walk under the trees. The last month has been a wild ride of personal commitments and natural phenomena. I have been away from the blog too long.

I went back to work 2 weeks after the surgery. I was ready; this surgery was pretty easy on me. A bit of pain but not anything like any of the previous surgeries. I was knocked out for a few days after the last blog post probably processing out the general anesthesia, which leads me to ponder the next  and final step of the reconstruction process, the "cherry on top", the nipples, and to wonder if I will actually have that piece or continue with the Barbie boobs, or maybe just tattoos...a sun and a moon perhaps? There is a technique of tattooing nipples in a 3-D style that many women choose, and that would avoid a skin graft which is my surgeons technique. I don't know. I meet with the doc in a few weeks to discuss it and will ask questions then. For now, I don't think much about it. I'm concentrating on feeling good.

I started seeing lymphedema patients last week, a week ago today, the same day our niece came from Florida to hang out with us for a week. I was so thrilled to have her, and so distracted by trying to get my chops up for starting this new therapy in which I have been highly trained but have had, up until last week, no real experience. There are so many facets-manual therapy, bandaging, exercise, precautions, lifestyle changes, garments...I have 3 patients now who are all, of course, quite different from one another, and challenge me in a variety of ways. Anyway, the timing was unfortunate as I would have loved to have taken the week off, or at least some of it, to be with her. We got to have some limited quality time, it's never enough, though.

We played at Dulcimer Day on May 15th; last year our performance was the Sunday before I started chemo, if I recall correctly. In answer to the question I'm constantly asked these days, we played "I Feel Good" as our final tune of this year's show. Soul music on the dulcimer; always a wonderful, wacky way to use the twanger. And I do feel good, it felt good to play. Gotta figure out a way to do more of that. I really want to find a band to sing with, want to sing the jazz standards. I miss playing at weddings and bar mitzvahs of all things, not to mention concerts with Sam Moore and others. Nothing can beat the joy of jamming with Dave and Billy, though. We really have a cool sound and a neat little band with Dave on bass, Billy on guitar and me on dulcimer and banjammer. (dulcimer/banjo).

My life is recognizable as my own again, finally, even if the image I see in the mirror still is not so much so. I'm trying to grow my hair out a bit and very short and very curly is not a look I find attractive on me. I feel like Bozo The Clown much of the time with curls and frizz randomly popping up in steel gray messes all over my head. I've tried several hair products with limited success and I think I'm about to resort to hats until the tresses are long enough to use some clips. Short short hair was great until the curl came back, but it's out of control now. So I look in the mirror and see a woman who looks a lot like my mom, a lot like me, but is not the me I recognize, the one I expect to see.  Sooner or later I suspect that will change, but I'm not there yet. It's okay, though. I'm good with all of it. I'm very comfortable looking my age.

Post Surgical Report

Here's the email message that I sent to all the folks on my list today. I know they gave me some Decadron as a pre-med before the surgery today, and I expect that's what is making me so perky right now. I figure if this works like it did during Chemo days I will be dragging my rear tomorrow, and will truly be lounging on the sofa watching movies. Today I had a bit of a "House"-a-thon and also played Sudoku on my new Iphone, a real guilty pleasure. Tomorrow, movies. And veggie chips...another guilty pleasure that I have decided I deserve to indulge in at this particular time. Thank goodness we have Trader Joe's here in Nashville now.

Hi all,

Had my surgery today to replace my  expanders with permanent implants.

Ouch! Fortunately, I have Percocet.  Never used to like that stuff but in this instance, I’m very grateful to it.  An ice pack is helping too.

Surgery went smoothly and I was home by  noon. I figure I’ll be on the sofa most of the weekend but have had the energy  to do a bit of emailing and to paint my nails. I have to be careful to keep my  arms down and not to lift anything over 10 pounds, and I’m actually trying to  keep it to 5 pounds today. But already I am noticing how nice it is to have  those boulders out of my chest.

Dave is taking fantastic care of me  and I know he is very relieved to be able to do it. Mom saved the day back in  November and it was very special for me to get to spend that time with her,  but I am very happy not to need to ask for emergency help, to be able to  handle this ourselves, Dave being well enough to provide the care-giving  without compromising his own health. I prefer to have family visits when I’m  well and able to go have fun! And any of my out of state friends, that goes  for you too!

I’ll be updating my Facebook pages, both the personal one  and the “Adie Grey is Kicking Cancer” page, and also my blog, but I won’t keep  emailing gory details. You of course may check the postings or contact me if  you want to know more, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome! I’ll even post  some pictures when I’ve got the bandages off...clothed and discrete ones of  course!

Thanks always so much for all of the well wishes and supportive  emails. It helps me massively to know you all are out there thinking good  thoughts for me. I’ll try to respond to everyone personally in the next few  days. With the supportive energy I could sense all around me, I was amazingly  calm going into and all through this experience. That felt really good; thank  you again.

Those of you here in the mid south, I hope are safe  from the storms. Thinking good thoughts for you all.

Wonderful Weekends

I really really love my weekends and they are really really too dang short! I love my job, but I miss having more discretionary time. Saw a friend who I haven't seen in a long time at a party today; we talked about the up and down sides of working for "the man" as opposed to working for yourself. It's great to have the benefits...insurance, paid time off, etc...but it is a price to pay for no longer having the authority to simply choose to sleep in today, or to travel at a whim. I function much better and sleep deeper when I fall our around 1 am and sleep until 9:30. That approach will not work with my job schedule. I have to adapt.

But I did get to have lots of time with friends this weekend, the monthly game group met last night with much hysterical laughter involved. That is one smart group of women. I kind of crashed out suddenly around 11 pm (I may stay awake until 1 am on my own time, but am not necessarily coherent in those late hours!) and had to leave quickly to feel good about driving home, but then got a bit of a second wind when I walked in the door. I hope those ladies know how much I appreciate and admire them. I don't feel like I ever say out loud the thoughts I have from the heart. With the heightened awareness of the frailty of mortality, I aim to say my inner love messages out loud but never feel that I adequately succeed.

Dave is better every day; we took a walk today up at the agricultural center nearby and he did okay, but pooped out sooner than he used to. I'm glad he's on the mend, but he still has a long way to go to regain the strength he needs for our trip and for a healthy life in general. I'm hoping he may go for cardiopulmonary rehab at my center, but knowing him, he'll want to do it himself. Backing off and giving one's loved ones the space to make their own choices is a very zen aspiration and often very challenging, but in the long run, necessary. Last Thursday was our 26th wedding anniversary; we had a lovely meal and I will post pix of that soon. The whole weekend has felt celebratory.

I'm working on reducing my animal protein consumption. I don't really know how to think like a vegetarian, but I'm doing okay in my creeping toward that goal. I can't bear the thought of veganism as I love my yogurt too much, (and eggs, and cheese) but I think I can reduce the reliance on these foods along with reducing my meat intake. I know I generally feel better when I'm eating mainly fruit and veggies. But I stay hungry a lot and have to plan well to avoid snacks that are likely to spike my insulin and to get adequate calories. I had hoped to take part in a clinical trial of Metformin, a diabetes drug, to prevent recurrence of the breast cancer which I intend to have not recur anyway, but the drug approval process has been so long-winded that I am now no longer a candidate as Friday was my one year anniversary of diagnosis. I'll have to find other ways of controlling my blood sugar as that is a major predictor of survival.  Lentils are a very exciting discovery; I've always loved them, rarely cooked them. Friday  I came up with a great lentil dish that was easy and is still yummy as leftovers. I can see that there are tons of variations I can enjoy with them.

I am eagerly anticipating my upcoming surgery, April 15th. My understanding is that it will be a very easy procedure as it is being done in an outpatient facility, not even at the hospital. Yahoo! I'm hoping that means no intubation, and a twilight sleep type sedation. And a nice, not very knocked out week off of work. Fingers crossed. Our niece Bethany has tantalized us with the prospect of a visit during that time, and it's been ages since we got to really hang out with her. I'm hoping it happens, and looking forward to sleeping as late as I want!

Change of plans

It's been decided. We will postpone our trip to Italy until the fall. Good lord willing and the creek don't rise, as we say around here! I'm trying to be here now with this and not to develop a fatalistic attitude about the trip, not to feel afraid that it simply won't happen. It just seems that we originally started to plan a European vacation for our 20th anniversary, when Dave was diagnosed with lung cancer, then we started to try to do it for the 25th, when I got my big C diagnosis. Then this...it's a zen challenge. Must stay in the present and not jump to the illogical extreme, as, according to Dave, I frequently tend to do.

The benefit of not taking the trip is that I will get to have my next surgery, swapping out these hard-as-rocks water balloons that have been expanding my pecs for the permanent implants that will feel soft like a breast. There's no pain at the moment, but the expanders are annoying and in the way. For work considerations, I would have had to wait until July to do the surgery if we went on the trip, but I can used that time instead to take off for the surgery. So that will take place on April 15th. Over a year post my diagnosis. It's a long road, but I'm feeling good.

Lately I've had a return of the burning mouth syndrome. I've tried to figure out what I was doing during treatment and during the expansions that made the problem disappear. The only things I can think of are high doses of B vitamines and the use of pain killers - valium, oxycodone - during the expansions and the huge amounts of Glutamine that I was taking during treatment. So I'm back to Glutamine twice daily and trying not to forget to take my B vitamins every morning. The pain is not gone, but it is reduced significantly.

Weekends are far too short...

"Me" day

I woke today feeling a bit agitated after not sleeping much. Dave had to get up early for his big work day. He teaches Mondays and Saturdays with the weekends being the most popular. And with his poor sleep and frequent coughing, I did not rest well either last night. So I decided that rather than going to yoga this morning, I would work out in the afternoon and run errands in the early part of the day.

Got my tires tended to, my eyebrows shaped up and the dog bathed, some minor repairs to the screen porch and a variety of other things handled that have been waiting attention. It felt good to just kind of follow my whim today. But mid-afternoon as I prepared to leave for the gym to get sweaty, I suddenly had a hit of that occasional total exhaustion that I used to feel on a regular basis during chemo and that still overtakes me now and then. I took a nap. Spent this evening shopping, picking out an IPhone and chatting with friends I ran into along the way. Got 15 minutes in on the elliptical before the gym closed...could've sworn they close at 8 rather than 7.

I think I want to revisit a mainly vegetarian diet again. I did that for a while after initial diagnosis and lost a lot of weight, felt really good. I'm challenged though in meal preparation - I'm just not used to planning vegetarian menus. But if I can get Dave to go along with it, I think he would really benefit from it too.  That is bound to be a tough sell, and I think right now, he needs to eat anything and everything that appeals to him and that he can get down. He's skinny as a rail. How can he enjoy the wonders of Rome with no appetite? He certainly can't go with no energy!

Regarding the trip, I achieved peace with the prospect of cancelling it today. It's interesting how some things that plague us can transition to become no big deal. I suggested to Dave that it might be the right choice, and the response was a basic sigh of relief. I think he still wants to try to do this as scheduled, but I gave him 5 days to have a dramatic turnaround or I don't think I want to go. Save it for fall. I'll try to arrange to have the tickets credited - I know they can't be refunded. But I'd rather do that then have the chance that we will go over and have a rotten time.

So I'm hoping that I'll get some sleep tonight while springing forward. Hope you do too, dear reader, whoever you are.

Frustration and Elation

written Friday 3/11

I have been focused on finding accommodations in Rome for the trip scheduled for a month from now.  I've made a number of minimally satisfying reservations without much input from Dave, as he has been really too sick since I returned from Florida to participate in the planning. And at this point, with him coughing, miserable and not able to eat much, the trip is not sounding very attractive. So I am frustrated. On top of that, the cat is not doing great, and my corporation is far below projected budget this fiscal year which will require me to change some of my other travel plans and wait for my next surgery until after July 1. Maybe we should just go ahead and eat the plane tickets and cancel the trip.

On the elated side, Vanderbilt is revamping its cancer care programs to a wellness model that will provide services during and after treatment, and offer screening and counseling for those at risk. The mind-body model. I will be on the ground floor of the start of the lymphedema clinic - a career opportunity that will let me practice a passion and develop a marketable skill. I will be involved in some advisory committees; I hope I can be creative enough to come up with some good ideas for program offerings. 

Trying to Catch Up

I am feeling darn good, which is good, because I'm back to mi vida loca - running a thousand miles an hour keeping house, keeping pets, keeping in shape and sane. Dave has been fighting a terrible cold since before I returned from my trip, and he is beginning to pull out of it, but it frightened me, making me concerned that it could develop into pneumonia and compromise our ability to take this trip to Italy that I spent the weekend working on. We have our airline tickets, but still don't have reservations for a room in Rome. I did get a room near the airport for the last night, and a provisional reservation in Florence for the couple of nights before that, and have been given a couple of quotes on Rome B&Bs that sound fine, but not quite in the neighborhood where I'd like to be. I'm giving it until tomorrow to see what all of the offers will look like, then I have to make a reservation! The trip is coming up soon, April 12th, and I am amazed how much time it takes to research accommodations, not to mention practice the language and plan the things we want to see and learn about. Just being in another culture will be enough to excite and inspire me. Even the altered American experience of West Palm Beach, with its Floridian natives and east coast transplants, not to mention to wide variety of Hispanics and other imports, helped ease the ennui of sameness that sometimes wears me down at home. Nashville has become a much more international place, but it's still not exactly polycultural. Or multilingual, whatever some of the locals may think, at least in comparison to larger, coastal cities.

Regarding my physical status, I was able yesterday to participate in an hour of yoga that required upper body strength that I haven't been capable of since the mastectomies. Longer downward facing dogs and plank poses than I've even attempted in ages. I still am not able to keep up with the entire program, but I made it through an hour. Then later on did a half hour on the elliptical. I'm trying to control my blood sugar, with more commitment now than earlier, as it looks like I will not be able to participate in the Metformin trial, not unless the FDA gets off of their butts and approves the medication. I would have to start within a year of diagnosis, and that will be April 1st. Haha. I really did think my surgeon was joking when he gave me the news...

Anyway, I have had a little bit of swelling in my left arm, but of course know what to do about it now, and I will be thrilled to swap out these Barbie-boobs for my permanent implants when I get the chance to do that, but will probably wait until July to allow me a chance to travel for pleasure and business - an additional 2 days of training in CDT for the head and neck - and to focus on getting the lymphedema clinic running with my hands on it as much as possible. That will also let it happen in the next fiscal year which will be good for the clinic. I'm eager to get these hand-balls out of my chest, but I'm happy to stay out from under the knife, with minimal pain as I have now, for a while longer.

Certified

I am a Certified Lymphedema Therapist.

I'm excited. I have a feeling that everything is about to change.

the above written Tuesday night. forgot to post. so much to say and no time to say it; will return this weekend.

Excitement and Trepedation

This course is kicking my butt. I have been so tired at the end of the days that I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm practically cross-eyed right now. I studied as best I could tonight, but was very distracted by the news that our clinic has finally been given the full go-ahead to start our lymphedema program. I will be entering a new phase of this new career of mine as soon as I get home.

I have a lot to learn yet in this course, and a ton to learn in general. Including some rudimentary Italian so that I can truly enjoy myself on my Rome vacation.

In the meantime, even while I'm here for the next week, I need to up my exercise and focus my eating. It's the only way to make it through this experience with my mental and physical energy in tact. And I don't need to let anything slow me down right now. I can't seem to shake the constant nerves about my long term health, but I'm not even a year from my diagnosis - I think it's normal to have these fears. Everyday, I find a way to have peace about them and continue to move forward. 

The class is a group of women that I'm enjoying very much. Lots of laughter and sharing of experiences, and a wide variety of numbers of years in the fields. Mostly PTs, another PTA, an OT, a COTA, and an MT. Tomorrow we have another student coming to join us to finish a certification that she had started previously. The experiences I've had at my past continuing ed seminars and especially in PTA school have been so challenging inter-personally; they make this especially welcome.

Right at this particular moment, the bed looks more welcoming than anything. 'Night, all.

Studying in Palm Beach

Oh yeah, if this is work, I'm all for it. Yes, the class is intense. Yes, I'm indoors most of the day, not out playing in the sunshine, and yes, I'm enjoying every minute of it. The anatomy/physiology review and new information, the hands-on techniques, the knowledge that I will be qualified to provide needed treatment for a population of patients who will benefit greatly from the therapy that I'll be able to offer  immediately upon my return - it's all very exciting and gratifying and I'm thrilled to be doing it.

Not to mention that I needed some time out of town, some sunshine, and a break in my routine. I miss Dave and Xena, miss my co-workers, patients and my own bed, but I'm happy to be opening a new door on my future.

Speaking of Dave, I don't think I wrote about my Valentine's day gift from him. It was so cute-he couldn't wait to give it to me and had to spill the beans the week before, like a schoolboy. He found it while he was out pawn-shopping with Billy and swore him to secrecy, but couldn't hold out himself. It's a dulcibanjo, just what I've always wanted. I'll have to post a photo of it. I'm looking forward to playing when I get home; it's the perfect instrument to use to play "Polly Wolly Doodle" ad nauseoum. Thought about bringing it on the road with me, and I'm sorry I didn't but was hesitant to weigh myself down flying for the first time in so long. Now I wish I had it for some distraction. Guess I will have to fill my time with studying and getting some exercise. Darn.

I did work out yesterday. It felt good after sitting on my butt in class for so many hours. I'll have to hit it again tomorrow. But it was nice tonight to go to dinner and spend some time writing here, relaxing. Trying to get back into the groove with writing.

sure is great to have hair again!

Had a scare last week, a week ago tonight actually, when I reached to scratch an itch on my left breast and brushed a hard spot. Found a little ropey knot and a generally ropey, knotty area on the upper left "breast" area, feeling a lot like my old, natural fibro-cystic breasts used to feel in that same area, and area that had sent me running to the ob/gyne many times in the past for breast exams that had always proven negative for any disease other fibrosis and cysts. Found a similar but less pronounced area in the right side. Wrote to my surgeon about it and had a reply saying to come on in right away, and on Tuesday went to see the nurse practitioner in his office rather than wait until Thursday evening, right before leaving for this trip, to see the man himself. The most notable spot on the left was ultrasounded and read as normal tissue. I heaved a sigh of relief and here I am, but it still bothers me a bit.

Since I've stopped being expanded, the tissue in the pec-breast-expanded area  is feeling different, not like a couple of big, hard, plastic Barbie-doll boobs the way they initially did. I think I'll try to see Dr. K and have him poke around on them when I get back just to help me feel a bit better, but I'm choosing to believe the radiologist, who has been following them for just as long, and to be at peace with the verdict that they are normal. The NP told me that there is some breast tissue left after the mastectomy to provide blood supply for the skin, and that this can still exhibit some fibrocystic changes-I've never heard that before, but she should know; I'll do some research later on, after I get back. I guess that particular concern that I had hoped to lose with the choice of the mastectomy is not going to be alleviated. Ah well...it's a reminder to stay in the moment, to breathe deeply and continue to seek peace. All too easy to contemplate scary scenarios; I choose to focus on the beauty of the full moon and the thrill of a new day and new skills, new knowledge. And look forward to the time when I can finally swap out these hard, uncomfortable water bottles in my chest for some soft perma-falsies. 

Long time no write; just busy

I can't believe that it's been about 3 weeks since I've posted here. I've just been so busy preparing for my upcoming course. I am amazed that I will finally be learning to perform "Complete Decongestive Therapy for Lymphedema". I have wanted to do this for so long, it's incredible that it's around the corner, that I'll finally take a flight a week from tomorrow and will be studying about 10 hours a day for 11 days. Yippee! It's no vacation - that will come in April - but it's a change of pace and immersion in a subject that fascinates me and gives me a chance to make an advance to my career. Pretty dang satisfying.

And it's why I haven't written in a while. I've been studying daily. There were a supposed 30 hours of pre-study and a required test to submit; I finished it all last night in a total of about 20 hours. With my job taking up about 40 hours a week and all of the other things I do...preparing meals, shopping, doctor's appointments, work outs...it was hard to squeeze in the study time, but it was interesting and most of it was review material.

My schedule should now settle down a little; I'm done with "expansions" and pain is way down. I feel much better now that I'm not taking those nasty drugs regularly, but tonight pain is a bit up, so I may indulge in something to help me sleep. I've been very tired, partly due to pain interrupting my sleep earlier in the week, partly from my studying and partly as a result of dealing with the weather. Wednesday we had a snowstorm that hit in the afternoon; everyone ran for home creating a gridlock in the city that lasted for hours. The streets weren't bad to travel if you could get to them, but I spent 20 minutes getting out of my parking lot into the lot next door for gas, and then another 40 minutes getting around the block to return to another parking lot and go back to my clinic as I realized the futility of trying to get home.

Some news reports were stating the the streets were slippery so I figured it was going to be an icy night and that traveling home would be impossible. I clocked back in and caught up with a bunch of busy work that I had not had a chance to handle. Found some left overs in the fridge, drank some cocoa and tried not to sulk about it. But at 9 pm one of my coworkers said that she had recently been home and back to the office and that she lives near me and the roads were safe for careful travel. So I packed it in and got home about 10 pm. It was slow, and it was stressful, and I sure was glad that I did it rather than join several of my coworkers in sleeping at the office. Luxury accommodations by Vanderbilt standards, especially compared to what was available to the hospital workers who were stuck, they had makeshift dormitories to stay in, but home is always best. It did mean another stressful drive Thursday morning, but by 2 pm, most of the snow was gone. Today was a piece of cake. I'm tired again today, but hoping that I'll catch up on some rest this weekend, when the weather is supposed to be a balmy 40-something degrees.

Dave and I finally purchased our tickets to take the vacation that we have dreamed of for years and we'll be going to Rome in April. Life is good. Anyone got any ideas about good places to stay or eat?

Saturday Considerations

wrote this over Saturday and Sunday; since then, I have come to like my haircut.
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It's the same every week-I cram way too much into a Saturday. It's a hopeful act on my part, but one that's becoming increasingly debilitating. I have to cut down, and I have to be more wise about my choices for grooming maintenance activities and social plans.

I am torn between wanting to join in with opportunities offered for cancer survivors and desiring at the same time to not self-identify in that way. The damned disease has been so influential in my life, way before my own diagnosis, that I've long felt that I could claim the title, although I really didn't participate in events at Gilda's or the Cancer Center or whatever. Now I'm starting to do a bit of that, and it's interesting to see what is working for me and what is not. I went to a writer's workshop for cancer survivors led by a couple of engaging grad students and I realized that I've never done a creative writing workshop in my adult life. I've done a couple of songwriting symposium-type things, and I've co-written with lots of writers far talented than myself, especially my husband, and I've gotten lots of beneficial input on my writing, but no formal workshops. I was excited. But by the end of the day, I doubt I'll go back, for the same reason I don't like to go to songwriter's nights...participants spend way too much time explaining their work rather than just presenting it and then allowing a response. And one participant really wanted to talk politics and that pushed some buttons for me, even when I agreed with him. I wanted to write without the interruption of his convictions. Are all workshops like that? That wasn't a cancer-survivor turn-off, it was a room-full-of-amateurs turn-off.  I suspect any writer's workshop might seem that way.

Later that day, I went to have my hair trimmed and ended up with an extreme cut. I had purchased a set of coupons for nail services and because they were booked out a long ways, I opted for the haircut switch they offered me. I told them when they stated that I could have any service I wanted that I did not care for color and just needed a trim and some styling ideas. I was told that my coupon would be good for this. But once the hairdresser took me, he told me that I would owe an extra $5, and at that point, tired and having waited long and starting to experience some pain, I agreed. He tried to talk me into some color. He cut my hair nicely, but much more than I had wanted or thought that I had indicated. Of course after the event, he offered me a greatly discounted rate for the future; I don't understand that kind of business-building attempt-bait and switch at the outset and then hope for return patronage. My hair...I have so little of it and found myself regretting every clipping, cringing as I saw myself looking more and more boyish in the mirror. Why could I not say, "stop"? Well, I wanted to see some other looks, and now I know what I don't like.

Somehow, with those coupons, I ALWAYS get talked into spending much more than I had intended... they rarely end up being a really good deal. And I don't really like the salon experience, so I'm glad I tried something new, but I had a hard time letting it go, blowing off the frustration of the situation. I even had him wax my eyebrows. Gotta get better about nailing down my agreements, time-wise and financially, when I book appointments. I don't expect everyone to bend over backward for me, to give me the "cancer-survivor special", but I hate it when I am told one price and charged another.

Outed at the Supermarket

This was written on Friday:

It's been a hectic week; 3 of my co-workers are in Key West taking a myofascial release training. I bet they're having a ball. Wish I had felt up to going with them, but I was still too puny and worried about Dave until it was too late, and I don't have a compression sleeve yet, which I do want to wear when I fly and I should have already been wearing for yoga and upper body exercise. Just haven't gotten around to getting it.

Anyway, I am taking advantage of the ABC (After Breast Cancer) program at my local YMCA. I met with the personal trainer tonight after work for my first visit and realized how out of shape I've become...I had been feeling a lot better about myself, but oh well...anyway, now I'll see her for several weeks in a row and hopefully get a kick in the ass toward that goal. So I stopped at the grocery store after the session to pick up a healthy sack of dinner items and as I began the check out, a woman with shoulder-length red hair followed me into the checkout line, got my attention and blurted "Did you have breast cancer? I just got my hair back!"

I was taken aback...didn't think I was so obviously sporting the post-chemo do and look, but she was very eager to share that fact that she is a survivor. Her intention was to celebrate and support, but I felt outed. I got over it and asked when she had finished treatment -2 years ago- and how she is doing. She was friendly, but it was the kind of approach I would never use with a stranger. An odd way to approach someone at the check out counter to start a conversation, but I suppose any friendly outstretched hand should be welcomed, but again, it's not my style to be so blunt. Good luck to her, to all of us. But I'm getting tired of the branding, starting to avoid pink. She didn't ask "did you do chemo?". It was specifically breast cancer she inquired about. I guess that particular diagnosis is too too common.

Long day, stoned night

I'm sitting half out-of-it by the fireside with Dave. It was a heck of a long day at work. I'm not sleeping particularly well probably partly due to the way medication makes me have wild dreams, and the fact that the pain really amps up when I'm lying on my back, not receiving a massage. And then today at work, I was rushing down the stairwell and slipped, grabbing the hand rail with my right hand to successfully avoid a fall, but pulling so hard on the arm that I really torqued my pec/breast/armpit. Yipes. I'm so glad I didn't tumble-I could've really hurt myself with that, but have done something anyway. I feel kinda beat up, like I had a minor fender-bender or something, and am wondering if I'll be able to take the pain of the pump-up tomorrow. I'm also stoned as a bunny right now on an Oxycodone and a Valium, making me care less, but also unable to accurately assess my pain level, and to wonder what the morning will reveal . I don't think it would be a tragedy to skip a week of expansion, so we'll see how it looks/feels tomorrow. No swelling, no redness, no knots noticeable today except for one little spot on the superio-lateral portion of the mound. Yeah, might be a small tear. I'll let the plastic surgeon make the call. Bless the inventors of Oxycodone and Valium; if I have to be in pain, at least I can be in the stone zone.

Brooding

Yesterday started out awkwardly; Saturdays always appear so full of promise, of opportunity, and I so often assume that time will stretch out before me so that I will be able to accomplish all of the tasks and visits that I set for myself. I got off on the wrong track right off the bat yesterday, succumbing to an urge to begin some early spring cleaning and never making it out to the Y, or to a yoga class, but becoming distracted by vacuuming and cleaning out the coat closet.

I did make it to lunch with a couple of friends, both breast cancer survivors, one very recently done with treatment and still getting her energy and hair back. That was nice, and I had all kinds of ideas of what i wanted to do afterward, so many ideas that they pushed out the memory that I had actually committed to a massage. I went to purchase some groceries, and went home and was preparing to walk the dog when the client called me. I snapped back to reality and ran off to the appointment. My client was very understanding; he blamed my brain-fart on the medication I'm taking. I blame it on brooding, and my frustration with the numerous things I want to add back to my schedule, while time won't let me.

Dave says "when you feel overwhelmed by commitments and responsibilities, shorten the list". I did yesterday and got over my angst, had a lovely meal at the home of our trusty friends Grace and Billy, and got a good night's sleep. Took it easier today although I did include a 40 minute exercise session on the strider at the Y, then a nice bake in the sauna before showering (I kept the body covered so that no one in the dressing room had to deal with viewing my nipple-less tits; I won't be so scrupulous in the future-it's good for them to have to deal with it and too hard for me to keep 'em covered) and another brief shopping excursion afterward. But the weekend flies by, and it's over now. Time to hit the sack. Drat.

Adie in Winter Wonderland

I got lost in a familiar neighborhood yesterday taking a frequent shortcut home. The streets were clear but the snowy landscape confused me. I followed my instinct, and I ended up getting where I was planning to go, but it was a moment of disorientation. Flakes floating down as I leave work thwart my intentions to head to the Y; it's too cold and too concerning that the streets will become more treacherous the longer I wait past sundown to head home. So we spend a lot of time indoors, looking out on the beautiful landscape and dreaming of summer.

I am feeling better with a lot less pain these days, and starting to plan travel. I'm behind on my continuing ed training programs, thinking of taking a session in Sedona next month but not wanting to travel alone and so far no one to go with me. Will need to decide on it soon, and as much as I often enjoy being alone, I'm not feeling eager to do this one on my own. Eager for company, I find myself  trying to cram activities and engagements into my schedule as if I could make up for lost time. Trying to plan carefully, trying to stay focused and be here now all at once. Life is beautiful; balance requires intention, focus, core stability, practice.

I met with the oncologist today to discuss the Metformin trial. It's a study of a drug that controls insulin levels. It's an old drug with minimal side effects, nothing scary, and that usually resolve after a month of use. Usually used for diabetes, but seems by anecdotal evidence to reduce recurrence rates and incidence of breast cancer. It's a randomized trial; I won't know if I get the drug or not if I sign up, but will have to take the pill twice daily. I think I'm going to do it. A patient can always drop out of a trial. If I could get the drug prescribed for me and know that I was taking it I would, but it's not approved for any condition that I have at this time. So I think, once again, I'm going to "donate my body to science". It might help me, it might help someone else; somehow, it might make a difference.

Cancer does not trump all

I'm constantly surprised when I speak to an old friend who tells me that they are going through some horrible, trying illness - an unresponsive infection, an ulceration, a digestive disorder, even a stressful divorce - and they tell me about it with the comment "...of course it's nothing compared to what you're going through...". Well, bullshit! It's all illness and/or stress and it all sucks and if it's potentially fatal it's serious and it's the reality of that individual's life. Cancer sucks, but it does not trump all. We are all on the road to our own demise anyway, and none of us gets out of here alive, and most of us will do a lot of suffering on the way. In the meantime, we must take every opportunity to see the beauty around us and to appreciate the things that are going right in our lives. So of course if you are allowing a small wound to drag you into despair, well then okay, it's nothing compared to what I'm going through, or what so many people who are living productive lives in the process of dying from fatal illnesses. So get over it, snap out of it if that's the reality. Otherwise, acknowledge your suffering as your true experience and then stick it behind a moment of beholding the beauty of life, of just loving a quiet moment, a cup of coffee or a giggle at a stupid TV show...or whatever blows your dress up. I'm tired of feeling guilty because I've got the cancer card to play, which I try not to very often, and someone I'm talking with is only, at the moment, dealing with, say, psoriasis. Believe me, I get how much mayhem that can play in your life and that your reality in coping with that is big challenging stuff.


Yesterday I went to a "Laughter Yoga" class. I was very excited about it; I have been hearing about this for a few years and I of course already believe in the healing power of laughter, and have been pursuing it in the "What's so funny about cancer" group at Gilda's and the addictive watching of "America's Funniest Home Videos" that developed during Dave's original cancer journey. I imagined the class as a sort of organized game of "Ha Ha" like we used to play in high school when everyone lay on the floor, head on the belly of the next person, and the first started by saying "ha" then the next "ha ha" and so on, and by the end everyone was laughing hysterically. I loved that and it always ended in paroxysmal laughter for me, very cathartic. But this was more like the improve classes I took in my late teens when I fancied myself a theatre type; classes I hated so much that I knew I would have to focus on my singing and not acting. It brought all of my innate shyness to the fore and made me self conscious in a very painful way. I couldn't find a way to politely excuse myself as one of my patient's had attended at my suggestion and my close friend knows the instructor....not to mention that the room was freezing and I was under dressed for the experience...I sure am glad to have my game group and that we were meeting the same night. There's where true healing laughter lies....playing stupid word games with a bunch of smart, funny women. Even though they all work together and have a framework of people to tell stories about who I don't know, I'm able to enjoy their humor in a real way. That, for me, is laughter yoga...yoking my body, mind, spirit and heart. With my funny bone.

afterthought

I was always the girl who came home from work and took off her bra. I could reach around and undo it with the clothes on, and slither out of it without removing my shirt. I was constantly clawing at the base of my cleavage with a too-tight bra on, and I knew it was time to "let my hair down" when I got around to taking that lingerie off. I am generally braless now, just wearing a little tank top, but the expanders feel like a too tight boulder-holder with a mean underwire and I constantly want to reach beneath it and pull the binder away from my trunk to relieve the pressure. No way now. I have to do my best to gain some relief through myofascial release and exercise and always, these days, really good drugs. Can't wait for the full time braless experience that actually feels like it.

5th Expansion, and a really great day

It's funny how some days are just great. I ran like crazy while at work...very hectic and had to run across the street to Dave's doctor appointment as they took him into the room early, then left him waiting 45 minutes. Well, at least I got a brief cardio workout dashing from clinic to clinic to avoid missing his appointment. Then we went to my plastic surgeon appointment for my "fill up" and that took about 10 minutes total. But at least I got a sense of how much longer this is to go on-probably 4-5 more fills then rest 6 weeks, then meet to schedule the swap of the expanders for the permanent implants. And boy won't I be glad to have those! They are reported to be much more comfortable-night and day difference-and I will be thrilled to experience that difference.

Dave was up to a little hanging out after our appointments and we went to look at new eyeglasses for me. Had hoped to find some at Vanderbilt, but the ones there were really not much. We ended up going to See, a wonderful eyeglasses store in the village, and finding 2 pairs that I LOVED! So I went for them. I'll have to get some new pictures taken soon with my new hair and new glassess...it's a whole new look. I'm quite pleased with it, and ready for the new me. I think I was just pumped by the normality of the evening, being able to go for a spontaneous shop and meal with Dave; something I think I'd been afraid might be over forever after Dave's emergency. He's finally bouncing back.

Later I went to a meeting at Gilda's club; "What's so funny about cancer"-a laughter support group. I really enjoyed meeting Molly, the facilitator, a journalist/filmmaker/friend-of-a-friend who has been very supportive of me during my journey via phone and email and who I was delighted to finally get to meet. Really enjoyed the other survivors in the group, too, and think I convinced myself to train for the Music City Half-Marathon coming up in April. And to attend this bi-weekly support group, something I have never wanted to do before.

It feels good to be happy, excited, up and energized. Some of it has to be the adrenalin shot I get from the expansion experience, but mostly, it's just been a good day with a return of energy. Hurray for that!

Five weeks going on six

The further away from the surgery I get, the better I feel that I'm doing. No surprise there. I haven't gotten away from the evening pain meds, but I have come to terms with them. My range of motion is improving, I can sleep on my side at least part of the night and was able to do a "chair" yoga class yesterday. I'm joining a rehab program at the Y. The ABC (after breast cancer) program. I'll get some free personal training and nutritional counseling and I am totally excited about it. I hope I will take advantage of the kick in the ass and finally get my exercise commitment committed. Because from what I hear, that is the single most important thing I can do to ensue my longevity in regard to all diseases. Gotta do it. What's the point of being neurotic about my nutrition, sleep, meditation, stress relief, etc, if I leave out this component? I plan to do the Metformin trial too, unless I find some other information that changes my mind in the meantime. I meet with the oncologist regarding this a week from tomorrow.