Awe yes, a bit of levity in the face of cancer~

As predicted yesterday, an irreverent accounting of today’s glorious events is about to unfold!  Not to worry, I did manage to represent, loud and proud, my new-found status as a crying person.  Oddly, it suites me.  Memorial Herman Hospital hosted my bilateral breast MRI today; it was extraordinarily special and surprises were plentiful.  While finalizing paperwork and checking in, SURPRISE, we shall inject your veins with a special dye that will aluminate during imaging.  Okay?!?  While changing into the gown/robe/pant apparatus I paused and said out loud “not sure how this is supposed to work!”  Holding my pants up, trying to keep body parts from flying out, I made my way to the imaging room.  Two steps into the room I stopped, looked at the imaging machine, looked at the nurse, looked back at the imaging machine set-up, and back at the nurse.  Alrighty then, atop the table sat, what is best described as, this miniature podium with two holes cut in the top.  Nah, it could not be that I must drop my breasts into the two holes, SURPRISE, you shall!  Beautiful?!?  Although I wore earplugs and sound blocking headphones, the machine radiated shockingly loud clunking noises that at one point, sounded like chaotic boisterous chanting.  Nearing completion of the 60 minute MRI, I became a crying person; the reality and seriousness of my cancer overwhelmed me.  The nurses pulled me out of the machine and I attempted to concurrently sit-up while holding the blanket by my face; I was a hot mess.  Note to self, next time you need to break down, consider that you are lying face down on the table and cannot move. 

On a more serious note, the oncologist that my surgeon referred me to is out-of-network and the insurance company denied the surgeon and primary physician’s requests for her to treat me post-surgery.  Curtis made a valiant and persuasive effort with his employer to allow a change to the insurance policy; the insurance company would remain the same it would be a small policy shift.  Despite his efforts, the employer would not budge.  On to plan B.  My primary care physician made a referral to an oncologist and the appointment is at 10:00 tomorrow morning (7/21/2011).  Tomorrow is the first big decision day; treatment decisions will be made based on the test results that are currently available. 

Confession time:  I secretly am hoping that the radiologist is reading my MRI film, befuddled beyond words, and declares, “She does not have cancer!”   

**I added a couple tabs at the top of the Home page where additional information is available and will be updated regularly.  Today was a good day, I am hopeful.

Steel Metal Jacket is off….

Recently I was reminded of my inherent need to protect those around me by shielding them from sorrow, miss-steps, hurt, anger, and unjust situations.  But at what cost?  The season has arrived to observe the lessons taught to my children, in action.  I must remove my steel metal jacket....it is off! Provided the opportunity, I see glimpses of boundless compassion and the desire to care for their mama.  Often I discover my happiness, joy, and personal rewards when witnessing my sons applying life lesson I have taught them.  Equally, I am blessed with a husband that adores me, just as I am and children who love me despite no biological connection.  This makes our mama son relationship just a touch more special. 

Confession time: As of late I have been deep in thought and yes, I am taking my place as, what I refer to as, a crying person!  [At times, my vernacular is plentiful with Christina’isms – from real talk, hot mess, and crying person there is more to come.]  Unable to sleep last evening I thought it wise to engross myself in three hours of cancer research reading; not a wise choice.  The time was 4:30’ish AM when I decided to close my eyes; I intended to relax my mind and enjoy a moment of peaceful slumber.  This did not happen.  I was frightened, felt a complete loss of control, and a panicked sense of absolute helplessness.  In my lifetime, I have never felt so lost and unsure how to regain my emotions.  My husband Curtis comforted me, was incredibly gentle, and compassionately understanding.  Setting the tone for day, I surrendered to my newfound status as a crying person.  The outpouring of love, thoughtful words, unexpected support, and genuine empathy overwhelms my heart.  I feel loved, encouraged, and supported.  I am a determined and self-sufficient woman who is learning to receive; this is far removed from my traditional gift of giving.  I am optimistic, I want to live, and I need to live.  Your comments feed my mind, body, and spirit.  Many thanks to feedback, private messages, note cards, donations, and telephone calls.  This is what it is all about, being surrounded by caring individuals.  MRI is scheduled in the morning, I have a feeling something irreverent is on the horizon.  <3 Christina 

The journey begins......

You have breast cancer; hearing these words robbed my lungs of breathe.  I am a wife, the mother to 16 teenagers – five currently living in the home, and me’ma to a grandbaby; I want to live, I need to live.  Please join me as I chronicle my journey through breast cancer, the triumphs, and struggles written from the heart using what I call Real Talk.  Real Talk (RT) will expose painful emotions, the not so pretty side of cancer, irreverent humor, the need for laughter, and the journey of self-discovery.  Choosing to share this journey with others is beyond difficult.  I am a private person.  I am the caretaker.  I am the problem solver.  I am the one who cleans-up the messes.  I am the one who supports.  I am the one who advocates.  Nevertheless, today, I surrender and acknowledge that now is my time to receive your support, love, and care.  


Not all breast cancers are the same; regretfully my type of breast cancer (diagnosis) is perhaps the least favorable type.  Within three weeks from today’s date (7/19/2011) all results will be in – MRI, mammogram, ultrasound, biopsy pathology, PET scan, lumpectomy pathology, BRCA 1&2, and blood tests.  The next step is for my medical team to create a treatment roadmap to kick this cancers ass!

Diagnosis - Triple negative (TNBC) infiltrating ducal carcinoma (IDC) breast cancer.

Description – IDC is the most common form of breast cancer and starts in the milk ducts, the tumor ruptures the duct, and the tumor invades the surrounding breast tissue (infiltrate).  TNBC typically affects premenopausal women, the tumors are aggressive, and frequently metastasize in other parts of the body.  These TNBC tumors share three specific characteristics – no estrogen receptor, no progesterone receptor, and are HER-2neu negative.  The lack of these receptors means the tumor will not respond to oral medications; this is where treatment options become limited to surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy.