Pathology results are humbling

On Monday of this week, my husband and I traveled to Newport to meet with my oncologist, my “real” oncologist. The oncologist will be retiring late June, so I am currently in the market for a compassionate, respectful, and cooperative oncologist. As my husband drove over the mountain, I was feverishly reviewing the recent surgical pathology report. Although the surgeon provided verbal information regarding pathology, reading it, in its totality, was humbling. I methodically compared the current pathology to past pathology; searching for something, I am not sure what. I felt my heart racing as it slowly sank into my stomach. It is not good news, not at all.

Curtis and I anxiously sat in the exam room waiting for the oncologist. When the oncologist entered the room, he walked toward me with extended hands. I knew what he was doing, but I quickly handed him my pathology report. He quietly turned, placing the papers on the counter, turned back toward me, and extended his arms and open hands toward me. I reached up placing my hands in his gentle warm hands. He tenderly squeezed my hands and looked into my eyes. His presence embodies what is needed to be an impacting therapist. My heart wanted to melt. I could have been an emotional mess several times during the visit, but I resisted. What purpose would it serve to “lose it”? I asked many questions – I like to ask questions. I even asked what type of treatment (western) he would recommend. His answer – he does not recommend chemotherapy. He went on to say that, chemotherapy would only provide a 5% chance of extending my survival rate (which would months, at best) – it was not worth it. I laughed and said, “Well good – I was not thinking about undergoing chemotherapy, been there – tried that – it is not for me”. At the end of the appointment, he embraced me and said that he admired what I am doing.

On the drive home, I felt at peace – despite the answers to my questions.

I am still recovering from my breast surgery and wanting to get my energy back, it is a slow climb. Patience is required – this does not come naturally. In the upcoming weeks, I will undergo a PET scan to see if the cancer has metastasized in other places within my body. If it has, things will most likely move quickly. I too am processing the magnitude of my diagnosis. I then went into research mode. I located a research study: Triple-Negative Breast Cancer: Clinical Features and Patterns of Recurrence. The highlights or perhaps lowlights include the following:

·      Local (most was distant first) reoccurrence was 13%. 

·      Reoccurrence (local/distant) occurred, on average, 2.6 years post diagnosis.

·      70% of deaths occurred within the first 5 years.

·      25% of women with TNBC experienced local reoccurrence prior to distant. 

·      57 of 61 women died 9 months following the reoccurrence.

Here is my positive take-away: Statistically, I continue to be in the minority (TNBC) of the minority (BRCA negative) of the minority (13% local reoccurrence). Following this trend, I most certainly will move beyond this diagnosis, with a healthy mind, body, and spirit, in this lifetime. 

Curtis and I are approaching this remarkably well! It is what it is. I am doing what I can do to conquer this beast by balancing my body. The PET scan results will really ferret out if there is anything else going on. I do not anticipate a distance reoccurrence and I want the PET scan results to reflect this. Curtis and I have talked about what I would do if the results swung the other direction - do not want to put too much energy into that scenario. 

My post-operative blood work shows that tumor markers appear to be trending downward; most significantly the CA125 (ovarian marker) that was (51) prior to surgery registered at (18) post-surgery. Ironically, one breast tumor marker, 15-3 registered (1) point higher post-surgery, this is most likely due to inflammation another was slightly lower. My iron is at the highest level it has been in over 6 months and my vitamin D continues to steadily go up; it is in the mid 50's - need to get it up into the 80+ zone.

I continue to have a positive outlook and am not becoming paralyzed by this diagnosis.

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Today, I am hopeful.

The last straw~

Why does this keep happening? This question weighs heavy on my mind and most likely, not for the reasons you may be thinking! July 2011, I learned of my aggressive breast cancer diagnosis; it has been nearly three years post diagnosis. The looming question, leaving me in a quandary; why do individuals – who know me fairly well, continue to ask questions about western “treatment recommendations” after I experienced a little health bump in the road, well a big health bump? I am not
alone in this quandary; my husband too is continually bombarded with questions. Admittedly, he gets the brunt of the questions; making it worse is the barrage of unsolicited “Has your wife tried such and such?” We are left wondering, what the hell is going on here!?!? Are we failing to thoroughly and clearly convey the direction of my treatment choices? Is it that individuals are hearing but not listening to what we are saying? Could it be that individuals around us are so unhinged by my treatment choices, when they see an opening for western medicine or a new snappy alternative treatment to be tried, they bring it up? Perhaps it has nothing to do with him or I; it is their fears that are emerging? We wonder if individuals believe they are being helpful or informative?

You know that old saying the straw that broke the camel’s back …it is like that. I am typically gracious when the topic of cancer treatments arise; I am able to shift a conversation quite easily or use my natural fallback, avoidance. My husband, he diplomatically powers through these irritating and emotion provoking encounters with others. Here is some real talk – It is too much, please stop. It is not helpful. In many situations, it is disrespectful. My husband and I are left feeling unsupported. More than anything, it is reminiscent of living in the shadows – not being seen, not having a voice. Stepping outside of my emotional mind and into my logical mind, there is an understanding that individuals are trying to connect, be helpful, and “fix” the unfixable. The other side is that the continued chemotherapy and radiation treatment questions along with unsolicited alternative treatment suggestions – are simply not wanted. There, I said it. That felt good.

The Straw, well that arrived today. The cancer surgeon called with the results from the tumor mass and lymph node pathology tonight, finally. The mass in my breast was deemed an invasive ductal carcinoma. The lymph node contained cancer cells. Then I learned that the surgeon took it upon himself and removed two additional lymph nodes that were “attached” to the affected lymph node. The removal of two additional lymph nodes, I did not authorize or consent too. I clearly outlined, in writing, the cancer surgeon was to only remove the enlarged lymph node that was viewed on ultrasound, the day prior to surgery. If I did not respect and trust this cancer surgeon, as I do, I would most likely be pursuing a formal complaint, at the very least. On a positive note, the additional two nodes he removed were “clear”. This does give me some sense of solace that the cancer did not take up residency in neighboring lymph nodes. Still reeling from the news that the surgeon removed two additional lymph nodes, without permission, I contacted a few friends to let them know I received my pathology results. What followed were several questions about what the doctor’s treatment recommendations were and/or the meaning of the pathology results. It was too much and it really hurt me – regardless of pathology, I am not following recommendations of western practitioners – in large part. My treatment is centered on the natural practices of Ayurveda – the ancient medical system of India.

Knowing those around me are concerned about my health and want the best for me, is deeply meaningful and touching. I know that all y’all love me – I can feel it! While I was in Texas, I met with my Ayurvedic Practitioner and have adjusted my treatment. The daily regiment I follow takes dedication, consistency, planning, and time; it is extensive. I have been back in Oregon for six days now, and have been adhering to my regiment (as available). I am recovering from surgery and getting stronger each day. The additional items needed to fully implement my adjusted treatment, have arrived – so here I go! I have another week to recover before I launch back into my graduate studies, completing the semester strong.

The highlight of my day was a visit from my mom. She brought the boys dinner along with some delicious goodies. We chatted for a few hours and covered a great deal of topics. It is beautiful that my mom is incredibly supportive of my treatment choices and decisions. She has never questioned why I am or am not engaging in any particular treatment. It feels good. 

I am grateful for all the support and love that surrounds me – even when I get frustrated or hurt by too many questions. I know I am loved by friends and family.

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Today, I am hopeful~ 

Frustration; the patient’s story

First, the surgical center incident:

Arriving at the surgical center, I make my way to the intake department to complete pre-surgery paperwork. The instructions are to sign your name and/or initials to concrete your agreement with each accompanying statement, on the lines an intake worker, at the medical facility, has graciously highlighted. As a southern woman would say – Now isn’t that sweet. Let it be known, I read each word appearing on every page. I cross out verbiage I am not in agreement with, clarifying statements to the pre-written verbiage, and typically leave several items absent my signature or initial; what resides in the cleverly highlighted space is a diagonal line, or what I refer to as the – Nope not this girl! 

After returning the completed paperwork, there begins to be a flurry of activity behind the intake counter – from nurses to supervisors. Occasionally there is a break in the conversation as confused and flustered individuals pass interesting glances and stares my direction. Often I will not prolong their agony – I will approach the counter and make an inquiry. This is how it went during a recent visit:

Me: I there something, I can help you with? *I brace myself for the response.

Intake: Um, ma’am, I noticed you did not sign this, pointing to one of the highlighted lines. The doctor ordered these labs, so you have to get them done.  

Me: The lab work was completed in Oregon and the results were forward to my Texas practitioner therefore I will not be taking part in another blood draw.

Intake: Ma’am, that doesn’t matter, it says here that you have to do it again.

Me: *no words, simply pregnant pause.

Intake: You know, I will ask my supervisor what to do.

Me: Sounds good.

Intake: umm, ma’am, you didn’t sign here where it says that you will get a chest x-ray or any additional labs, as the doctor feels necessary.

Me: That is correct. A chest x-ray was not discussed between the surgeon and me.

Intake: And the additional labs…

Me: Correct, I do not authorize additional labs without my written consent.

Intake: Well, let me get a nurse. When they explain why these things are needed you will understand better and sign the paperwork.

It continues to go on like this through the remainder of the paperwork.

I am finally escorted to the pre-operative bay where I am instructed to disrobe, keeping my panties on if so desired (I desired!), and to next put on the super awesome surgical frock. Side Bar: Can’t these facilities come-up with a, let’s say, more stylish print design for the frocks? I mean really, once you put on the plain frock, you instantly feel and look like a sick person. Then to add insult to injury, they bust out these horrific grey non-slip socks and instruct you to put those on too! I was like, What The What – Seriously?!?!

I am now resting nicely upon the gurney, dressed in my sickly attire – except for my cute panties, which no one else could appreciate, as I speak with the nurses, anesthesiology team, and surgeons; surgeons marking where they will cut and the others, discussing the procedures I will be undergoing. At one point, I noted that I am always given Promethazine for nausea, administered during surgery, and this is the only anti-nausea I wanted to receive. Several minutes later, a member of the anesthesiology team returns to inject some medication into my IV. I look at her and notice that she has a vile of Zofran readied to inject into my IV. I interrupted her and said, “Is that Zofran? It sure looks as though I am reading the word Zofran on the vile.” The woman went into this speech about Zofran, her colleague joined. I restated that the only anti-nausea medication I was authorizing was Promethazine – most certainly not Zofran. 

It was incredible that this team of individuals were prepared and willing to disregard, completely, what I had authorized them to put into my body. Talk about taking privilege with my body – who do they think they are?  

Then, there is the PET scan incident:

I was scheduled to undergo a PET scan this week. As I was reading over the information and process, I realized that my appointment was not for a PET scan but rather an Integrated PET-CT scan – NOT what I had agreed to. When contacting the oncology receptionist, she provided inaccurate information regarding what a PET-CT was – finally she offered to have a nurse contact me. When speaking with the nurse, I relayed that I did not agree to a PET-CT but rather a PET scan only. When asked why I did not want the PET-CT, I simply responded, it was a personal preference. Her response was something like, so you do not want to tell me your reason for not wanting the PET-CT? These folks could use training in basic empathy and/or reflective listening – I am offering to provide this service FREE of charge! So now, I wait to see IF the oncology group will refer me to get only a PET scan as originally requested. In truth, I really do not care, as I did not want to undergo the scan in the first place, additionally, it’s more money out of my family’s pockets!

To follow is a note to those within the oncology profession. 

Dear Oncology Medical Profession-

As a patient, I acknowledge your western medical training and your delightful ability to recite the standard of care for specific cancer diagnoses. Be mindful, this is my body, my choice –many within the oncology profession; seem to have forgotten this basic adult human right and freedom. Each treatment choice and decision is not being made lightly, but rather with the weighing of risk vs. harm, the pros and con’s based on independent research from many sources – including the information you provide. This is my life. I choose to make my own informed decisions, not because you told me too, but rather because I chose too. Western practitioners do not have all the answers – you are not a god. Each patient’s body is unique and different. Many patients will look to you for guidance and direction – many are scared, unable to make choices, trust your guidance, or do not know what else to do. Then there are patients like me – ready to research, willing to make difficult decisions, not detoured by the bullying, shaming, the threatened withholding of treatments, and fear mongering spewed by the oncology profession. Despite all the pushback from the oncology profession, I will continue to make the treatment choices that are right for me – my body, my choice.

I have supported many friends through their treatment choices that are much different from mine. I have watched several suffer greatly and lose their lives. I too have seen several continue living, despite emerging post-treatment illnesses and struggles that continue to cause suffering to one degree or another. As patients, we choose what is going to work best for us and what brings us peace – there is no right or wrong. It just is.

To clear-up any confusion regarding indulging in western medical treatments or lack thereof, trust and believe that I am not turning away from treatment – it is your western medical interventions that I do not seek, as my mainstay. I AM in treatment! I am not experimenting with any particular “cancer cure” of the moment. What I am doing is working to bring my body back into balance, on a cellular level. This approach is holistic, following the practices of Ayurveda – which has been around a heck of a lot longer than western medicine. While western medicine has a great deal to offer, it equally lacks. My daily routine, to remain healthy, takes dedication and is not a quick fix. When I hear individuals within your profession making comments such as – “you must be crazy to choose alternative treatments!” I respond by saying, “Natural treatments vs. toxic poising – that’s an easy choice for me.”

Repeatedly, I have created the space for those within your profession to cite standard of care along with recommendations; most usually, there too is an injection of judgment that jettisons in as well. Some days I sit and listen more patiently then others. Let me share what is missing – those within the oncology profession rarely create a space for the patient to cite thoughts, fears, and outline treatment choices that are met with a respectful and compassionate ear. When you become the patient, then you can decide how you will manage and treat your condition. Until that time comes, which I hope you will never have to experience, – you do not get to decide for me. This is my life. This is my body. Show respect.

Today, I am hopeful

Respectfully,

Seeking Balance 

       

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Travels to Texas - It is always an adventure

What an interesting trip to Texas this has been. I speak often about going with the flow – just keep on moving; this theme reigns supreme, yet again. Let us begin with the delightful overnight flight. Curtis, Leslie, and I arrive at the airport and successfully navigated through security without a hitch; this is not always the case for me as I am an “opt-out” meaning I do not go through the body scanner machine. Rather I am the recipient of an up close and personal hands-on pat and slide security screen. “I am going to run my hand along your inner thigh until met with resistance,” states the airport security officer. That one always makes me laugh. As we look for our gate, we decide to grab a beverage and some chips and salsa. – The airport chips were double, perhaps triple flash fried and dripping with oil; we still ate them. Leslie and I dashed across the way to purchase a beverage and snack for the plane ride. In desperate need of some nasal spray, Leslie purchased a bottle of the coveted spray only to discover it cost over $10…she was none too pleased. We landed in Houston around 6:00am - the plane ride was uncomfortable, stuffy, and a dreaded overnight flight …no fun at all.

The first appointment of the day was with my cancer surgeon; it went as expected; he is very respectful, kind, and compassionate. I asked that the doctor take a second look at my swollen lymph node so that we could discuss the findings. I subsequently made the decision to have the lymph node removed in addition to the mass contained within my breast. Curtis, Leslie, and I next traveled to see my reconstructive surgeon. This appointment did not go as expected. Prior to traveling to Texas, I had several communications with the office of Dr. S to discuss the procedures he would be preforming; my interpretation was that everything was set and ready to go. Shortly after entering the exam room – it was clear this was not the case. Dr. S was refusing to perform any type of reconstructive surgery on the right breast and was only agreeable to preforming a minor augmentation to the left breast. When further inquiry was made into his gross deviation from the original plan, the doctor became defensive and threatened to not perform the surgery at all. Awe, this was a familiar spot…yet again, I was being required to create a space for an arrogant medical provider to feel validated appreciated, and as though they are the expert. I have to say it was quite nauseating at times. What made this visit amusing, in part, was the doctor’s attraction, complimentary comments, and divine infatuation with my left breast! He noted how the supple curvature was preferred. He encouraged me to enlarge the right breast (containing cancer) rather than reduce the left breast – “let’s just go bigger”, he said with a twinkle in his eye. When discussing symmetry, he noted how beautifully symmetric my breasts already were (more than most) and in a challenging tone, looked at Leslie and said, “Christina’s breasts are most likely more symmetric than yours – just look and see.” I was mildly disappointed Leslie did not take the doctor up on his challenge, producing her breasts! That would have been fantastically hilarious.

Surgery was a breeze and according to my support team – the doctors nearly fist bumped each other when recounting how well the surgery went. Let’s now discuss the dark-side of the surgery. The lymph node that was removed did contain cancer cells, the extent of which will not be known until early next week when pathology comes back. The surgeon expressed to my husband that there would need to be some tough decisions made, noting radiation is off the table because the cancer has moved beyond its origination site, meaning it has metastasized. My first thought was good; this is one less non-treatment treatment I would have to hear about from western doctors! It will be interesting to see what I am working with when pathology returns. My hope is that the cancer nugget in my breast was removed with clear margins and that the lymph node was simply inflamed.

Had a visit from a couple of my Texas kiddos. Carlos drove down from Austin for the day - it was great to see him. 

I am healing well, and ready to head home – Sunday morning to be exact. There is much more to tell, but will come at later time. 

                                                          Today, I am hopeful~

Please consider donating money to support travel expenses, surgical procedures, and medical expenses: Capture Courage Fundraiser

Surgery Update

Christina, Curtis and I (Leslie) arrived in Texas early Tuesday morning and settled in with our hosts, Christina's brother Sam, his wife Brandi and their four kids. They have been very hospitable and the conversations have been lively.

After a nap (to recover a bit of lost sleep from the red-eye flight) we went with Christina on Tuesday afternoon to meet with her general surgeon and the reconstructive surgeon for the standard pre-op consultations and to finalize details of the surgeries. She is an excellent self-advocate and consistently and calmly maintains a positive rapport with the medical professionals.

On Wednesday morning we headed over to the Houston Yoga Ayurvedic Wellness Center where she met with Sharon for Ayurvedic massage (I cannot remember, nor can I accurately spell the treatment, so I will leave that clarification to Christina later!). Sharon is a very wise, calm, knowledgeable and loving individual and Ayurvedic practitioner. Curtis, Christina and I had such interesting conversation and a time of relaxation and tea with her.

We then went over to the hospital and Christina was taken back for surgery (I will let her disclose the specifics of the surgeries later, if she wishes to do so). We got to see her just before surgery where Christina declared the grey skid-proof hospital socks despicably unattractive (any of you that know Christina can imagine the scene and conversation over that!). We waited during the surgery which went smoothly with both surgeons feeling positive about the procedures. It sounds like recovery will be smooth and less painful than initially anticipated.

I feel privileged to be here with Christina and Curtis and I'm consistently blown away by Christina during this entire journey through cancer. I admire her steadfastness and courage in facing the numerous obstacles and challenges in carefully choosing her own unique path toward overcoming this disease. 

Thanks to all of you for your peaceful, healing, accepting, loving and compassionate prayers and thoughts. We will update again soon.

Today, I am hopeful ~

George Fox University Support System

           *I am filled with gratitude*

 

Pictured in this photo are several of my George Fox University Graduate School of Counseling classmates. Many classmates showed their support by wearing pink in some form of fashion. I am incredibly blessed to be surrounded by individuals who love me and believe I will find balance and overcome this disease!

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                                                                                                           Today, I am hopeful.

Tribute Tattoo & Updates

My husband surprised me last week with this amazing tribute tattoo; he placed it on his chest over his heart. (Curtis'first tattoo) The symbol represents running and the positive impact it has had in his life. The words, are the same that adorn the Christina's Real Talk t-shirts - my son Cole and I created the saying in 2011.

All updates regarding my surgery and post-surgery events will be posted on my blog by Curtis, Leslie (a friend), or myself - when possible. 

I invite everyone to call upon their higher-power, the divine, to send peaceful, healing, accepting, loving, and compassionate prayers and thoughts to my family, friends, cancer & reconstructive surgeons, and to myself. 

May the miracle of healing touch body

Please consider donating money to support travel expenses, surgical procedures, and medical expenses: Capture Courage Fundraiser

Today, I am hopeful~

A day in the life of…

Tuesday embodied numerous emotions, experiences, and reflections, leading to clarity that revealed itself with profound clearness. The day flowed with tears, laughter, friendship, forgiveness, cleansing tears, self-compassion, a punch to the face, pounding blows, awareness, trust, connection, and ended with peace.

How freeing it is, to speak my truth without reservation, to choose to be vulnerable. I sit upon my sofa. I hear the sounds of Tibetan singing bowls, the vibrations calming my soul. The sun shines bright in the cool fresh air. The breeze dances through my hair; I breathe in the fresh spring air – awe, I am grounded, connected, at peace. I gaze into the empathic eyes of my attuned friend Mollie. I laugh. I cry. I do so without hesitation – it is safe, absent of judgment. The timing is perfection – I learned my tumor marker numbers have increased over the past six weeks, one nearly doubling. I am not surprised…yet I am. It is unsettling to see tumor marker numbers rise. I allow my emotions to come forward, move through me, and to share these once tightly held thoughts and emotions. I process my choices, landing on – Am I going to trust that I will intuitively make the right decision for myself.

As I drive, I am meditating as I listen to healing sounds. The word forgiveness gently enters my thoughts. Traditionally I am quite rebuffed by the word “forgiveness” as my experience reveals it is an over and miss used word. Yet in this moment, I embrace the word… Forgiveness – I have an awareness; the way one finds healing is through forgiveness. Over the next hour, I am taken to a still place of peace as I offer forgiveness to individuals whose words or actions have wounded, hurt, cheated, or silenced me. I first speak forgiveness; I then release them from my judgment and expectation as I accept and love them as they are. I speak forgiveness to myself – for falling short; I then release myself from judgment and expectation. I accept myself, as I am, perfectly imperfect. I am lead to speak my desires into the universe, to the divine, to my higher power. I ask that I find healing, from all disease within my body, now, in this lifetime. Asking to continue my current journey of understanding, compassion, acceptance, as I allow my light to shine bright – bringing connection and hope to all I encounter. I speak, if there is another way to learn this lesson, I am open and willing. At the conclusion, I am peaceful.

The sun shines brightly on this spring day as I walk along the riverfront with a client; I am initially met with cooperation then a physical expression of inner emotions. I felt a closed fist make contact with my face, the blow is striking and unexpected. I am stunned. I immediately assume the protective blocking position, and experience multiple blows to my forearm and legs. I am aware that time seems to slow – yet I too am struck by response to the attack. I did not instinctively fight back, something I often wondered about. Rather, I assumed the blocking position. As each blow made contact with my forearm, my self-talk was saying – see you knew what to do and instinctively acted – trust yourself, you know what to do. Following the events, I walked back to my car – my head was throbbing. I was not sure what I was going to see when I looked in the mirror. Amazingly, the physical pain did not match my appearance; aloud I remarked, “Well isn’t that interesting!” I smiled. I called my husband to let him know what happened and he offered to come pick me up. I gently reminded him that I had school and needed to get going. I hear him nervously laugh followed by “after all that you are going to go to school?” My response was, of course I am going to school. He then said, “Okay babe. Enjoy your class. Love you!” Off to class I drove.

As I drove, I was recounting the events of the day. I kept thinking that surely there would be a point at which I would breakdown crying…you know, lose it! After all, I discovered my tumor markers were elevated, had an emotional conversation about the cancer returning and the decisions needing attention, the cathartic forgiveness exercise, and the physical attack. I was not breaking down. I felt as though my equilibrium was off a bit – which makes sense considering my “bell was just rang!” I was not angry. I was not tearful. I was simply roll’n with it. I laughed, recounted how my positive self-talk was occurring as blows were being delivered. After all, it was “just another day in the life of …me”

In class, the lecture was about spirituality. As the end of class approached, the professor concluded his lecture – the PowerPoint slide, noting the next talking point, appeared on the screen: FORGIVENESS. I smiled – of course; the word forgiveness appears on the screen. As I drove home, I continued to reflect on the events that occurred. As I let out an extended exhale, I exclaimed out-loud, “oh my gosh, that’s it! Earlier in the day, I was struggling to trust myself to make treatment choices. This was followed by yet another situation, that I had questioned for years – if I were to be attacked by a client, would I instinctively fight back or would I respond with what I know and was trained to do…block the blows. Trust. It was about trusting myself. When faced with a situation, in which a decision must be made, trust that I will respond accordingly. “The Attack”, was symbolic – with a literal smack upside the head – Yes, Christina, trust yourself. You know exactly what to do! Awe…yes, I do know what to do.

Tuesday was a powerful and impacting day; it was actually quite amazing! I am embracing each experience with open arms and a positive outlook.

Today, I am hopeful.

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Flexibility Required

I am at a bit of a loss of where to begin – the past 30 days have been an interesting mix of shifting emotions along with interesting, enjoyable, and unbelievable experiences that bring me to today, March 2, 2014.

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February is forever a favorite month; I celebrate my birthday, anniversary, and Valentine’s Day. Image my surprise when I was brought back to reality when Curtis announced I would be turning 43, not 33! For some reason I had it in my mind I was fix’n to be 33 … the idea of being in my 40s evoked a crinkled nose followed by a gasp. Mother Nature provided a beautiful blanket of deep white snow to the Willamette Valley, something that does not happen often; we were literally snowed in for several days. The next February event was Valentine’s Day and my 10-year anniversary – both occurring on February 14. My birthday/anniversary gift was my first tattoo. Never fancied myself a tattoo kind of gal … I have to say, I love the tattoo! Many have asked what the meaning of the tattoo is – let me share.

The Om symbol: This represents the all-encompassing cosmic vibration of the universe. Om is at the beginning and ending of many sacred texts. Om represents the states of consciousness and connects us to the divine.

The Elephant/Ganesha: Signifies wisdom, patience, is the remover of obstacles, discernment, loyalty, strength, and intelligence.

There seems to be a theme that continues to occur with repetition as of late; just when I think I have a concrete plan together, a barrier presents causing me to quickly shift. Being mindful that there clearly is a lesson to be learned that I must be overlooking, I REALLY want to grasp this lesson! A couple examples of this are to follow.

Meeting with Oregon reconstruction surgeon – the appointment started-off fairly normal and then slid sideways! In the exam room was a female intern, the surgeon, and me. As the surgeon conducted the breast exam, in a rather aggressive manner, he began challenging my treatment choices. He went as far as stating that I was providing myself diminished healthcare interventions. I responded by saying something like, that is interesting, I have never had a physician provide feedback of that nature before. The surgeon was shocked and responded “really?” My response – “I don’t think most would be that brazen!” I could feel my anxiety well up within my body, I took a deep breath, as I reminded him of his position on my team was that of a reconstructive surgeon – not a secondary oncologist. Later in the appointment, I exclaimed, in a “jokester” way, that I needed to ask some basic questions – such as how long have you been preforming reconstructive breast surgeries. He outlined his qualifications in the most complex and medically academic manner. I indulged him, although I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. When he finished, I leaned forward and lowered my voice as I asked if the undertaking of the second fellowship he had outlined, was a “suggestion from his professor”; in intern exhaled with laughter! The doctor went on to explain further that is truly was HIS desire to participate in a second fellowship. You really had to be there to capture the levity of it all. Despite his narcissistic nature, I went ahead and scheduled to have him be my reconstructive surgeon – there are only two in Corvallis. For the next 5-7 days, my breasts felt like they had been through a meat grinder! Yes, even my “good one”. Thinking it may be warranted to send him bill for damaging the merchandise.

In the days following the aggressive manhandling of my breasts, I noticed that there was swelling occurring in the armpit where there is a lymph node suspected of being infiltrated with cancer cells. The swelling concerned me. I was already grappling with the decision to remove the lymph node or to keep it. I scheduled an appointment to see my nurse practitioner oncologist; she was able to palpate the swollen node. During the appointment she let me know that I would have to establish with a new oncologist because my beloved Dr. Kenyon had really retired and my “treatment plan had changed” due to the re-occurrence of cancer. My response, “that is fucking annoying, I have never had a treatment plan, I am doing my own thing!” She advised me that my case will be discussed at the Tumor Board and they will create a recommended treatment plan for me …I rolled my eyes “you know that time would be better spent discussing a case that was actually going to use your western jazz.” My nurse practitioner is kind, listens, and shoots it strait in a respectful manner; this is why I like her. After leaving her office, I started to process the medical events and the response I was getting from the western medical community in regards to my treatment choices. I needed to change the way I was presenting my choices – it was different now because the cancer was back and this was making the doctors very nervous. My responses were raising red flags in their western medicine brains and thus creating barriers in accessing the interventions I desired. I was able to ground myself and refocus my responses – they do not have to agree with what I am doing. What needs to happen is for me to allow the doctors the space to deliver their informed consent and fulfill their verbal medical oath duties.

It was my understanding that I would not have to meet with the new MD until after surgery – I was wrong. The next morning, I received a voice message requesting I come in to meet the MD oncologist on that day at 1:00. My first thought … nope, I am so not doing that right now. Aware of my avoidant attachment style, I made a different choice. I contacted my friend to ask if she could go with me to the appointment, she agreed. Good thing I had grounded myself and prepared emotionally and psychologically; this woman, Vicki Lee, is a piece of work! Some of her delightful gems included:

We all can agree that you made the wrong decision in 2011 because the cancer has returned; she stated this no less than 4 times throughout the visit. You are too overwhelmed and emotional; you need your family to make the right treatment decision for you this time. We may not even do surgery if you do not let us remove the mass and the lymph node – it is all cancer, we need to take out all the cancer that we can see, otherwise there is no point.

Yep, it really happened! My friend remained silent during the visit and let me handle this Gem called Dr. Vicki Lee. This woman did not listen. She attempted to miss quote me in her notes. Awe, at one point she stated that she had a question for me – what followed was a harsh judgment. I interrupted her, “what I just heard was a judgment; you said that you had a question for me…what is the question?” She never did ask a question. I said very little during the appointment; remember I had already prepared myself otherwise I might have gone ham on the doctor. Conversely, my friend, well – she was fit to be tied!!! Clearly it was time to reassess my treatment team. 

I have decided to cancel the surgical procedures in Oregon and head back to my trusted doctors in Texas. My surgery is scheduled to take place this month. My husband and medically savvy friend Leslie will travel to Texas with me for my surgeries. I am finally at peace with my procedures and choices.

Please consider donating money to support travel expenses, surgical procedures, and medical expenses: Capture Courage Fundraiser

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Today I am hopeful~

Out of the darkness...

At last, I feel as though I have found a moment of clarity. Over the last couple of weeks, I have been experiencing a host of emotions as I struggle to find some footing and balance while processing the resurgence of cancer. Most significantly, I have been detached and introspective. The realization that presented and provided an opportunity to go deeper was this:

I want others to extend me, the same compassion,

love, and care that I extend, WITHOUT an invitation.

This was only the beginning. The realization caught me off guard … like, what the what? When I see that someone is having a challenging or emotional day, I make an effort to connect with them somehow. I may write a note, send an email, text, call, or provide a compliment – anything to offer a touch of positivity into their life. I thought, yes, I want to be the recipient of this compassion…like “Hey, over here….my turn, my turn.” Awe and there it was…I AM the recipient, it just looks a little different.

Deep release of breath

                                           Smile across my face

                             Peace falls over my mind, body, and spirit

Compassionate individuals who extend their support, care, and love surround me.

While in Texas, I was hosted by one of my baby brothers and his family. It was filled with good conversation, enormous amounts of laughter, priceless interactions too great to count, visits with Texas kiddos, dinner with a soul sista’, outings with my nieces and nephew, visits with my practitioners, and a trip to Austin, with my niece as my passenger, to see my son Carlos. The car ride up to Austin with my darling 15-year-old niece, I will forever hold close to my heart. I had the unique opportunity to heal my inner child during my stay in Texas – those moments will remain private. The heart-to-heart talks I had with friends and family were good for my soul.

The Texas trip did not yield the result I was hoping for – the mass is cancerous and there is lymph node involvement. After meeting with the breast clinic and cancer surgeon, their recommendation was the standard – biopsy, surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. What I was considering was removing my breast implants, undergoing a lumpectomy to remove the mass, and leaving the affected lymph node alone. I met with a breast reconstructive surgeon only to learn that removing implants is a) not covered by insurance and b) extremely traumatic to the breast tissue. It would not be wise to move forward with the removal – who knew a surgeon would have to scrape away all the scar tissue that encapsulates the implant in order to access the new blood supply in order to heal. You then need to have a breast lift otherwise; you are left with a concave looking breast complete with droopy skin hanging off the cliff. As I walked out of that surgeons office, I thought well shit… just when I thought I had a plan, it gets derailed!

I have decided that I will have a lumpectomy to remove the mass and at the same time, undergo reconstructive surgery to add symmetry to my breasts. In the next two weeks, I am looking into undergoing the procedure in Oregon as opposed to Texas. I have a plan for traveling back to Texas and a plan for Oregon – now I wait to see what the best option is for me. I am trying to schedule this procedure around graduate school too – I have a plan for that as well.

Sunday January 26, I started a 35 Punchakarma – Developed thousands of years ago in India, punchakarma is the ultimate mind-body healing experience for detoxifying the body, strengthening the immune system, and restoring balance and well-being. It involves eating kitchari daily for all meals – although I am eating oatmeal for breakfast, daily enemas of ghee (clarified butter) and dashamula tea, daily self-abhyanga, shirodhara, and much more. Keeping up with this regiment is challenging but is my primary focus. My husband has joined me to the extent of eating kitchari daily. I have invited him to join in the enema portion or the routine … he declined! LOL! Something incredibly funny has occurred twice this week. I am lying in bed and feeling a bit gassy – as I pass gas, I realize I have not only released gas…I released a huge ghee *splat* into my panties! Butter me up! While the dashamula tea releases your bowels immediately, the ghee can be held in your booty all night – just watch out for the accidental leakage or splat of ghee. Thinking Depends may be the wisest choice along with carrying an extra set of clothing.

I remain steadfast in being successful in my graduate school program. I am blessed that my parents are graciously assisting financially with the shortfall between student loans and tuition/book fees. Although it is challenging to focus at times, I am hanging in there. I am fortunate that I have supportive classmates that do not mind if I stare out a window for a couple hours, cry, laugh, get lost in my thoughts, or throw out random stories. The extension of support is welcome and much needed.

My boys were so sweet this week. I was drawing a bath and went in to turn off the water, this is what I found. So sweet! I remarked to my husband, “Now this is how I taught my boys to treat their mama”

This cancer resurgence weighs heavy on my mind, yet it does not define me.

My daily affirmations reads: Miracles happen in my life every day. I am counting on this!

Today, I am hopeful~

                                                                                                                                                           

The Journey Continues

There is something uniquely cathartic about the Oregon coast. I feel a sense of peace, calm, safety, clarity, and clearing; I feel at home. It is never too frigid to remove my shoes and peel off my socks to press my feet into the ocean sand. I found myself coastal bound on Monday January 6, 2014 – instinctually drawn to my private refuge to ponder.

It was a typical annual appointment with my oncology nurse practitioner– we laughed at times, were mildly serious with a twist of levity as we discussed my anemic state – my practitioner noting: “I have to tell you Christina, I have never quite seen an iron panel quite like yours … it’s so low!” My response was something along the lines of, I am here to provide a service and challenge your knowledge. After reviewing blood work, we were fix’n to wrap things up. She asked if I wanted to have a breast exam – I was agreeable, as long as I did not have to put on the awful gown. I prefer just too … well, you know … whip ‘em out. I thought she could take a look at the end of my lumpectomy scar. I pointed to the inner end of my scar, where I felt something liken to a small round nut. There is quite a bit of scar tissue that can be felt under the skins surface, but this area felt more structured, rounded, and separate from the scar tissue. We decided it would be best to have it checked out by way of imaging.

I was agreeable to undergoing a bilateral breast ultrasound, in Oregon, only if the radiologist would be present to discuss what she was seeing during the test. I traditionally travel to the TOPS breast clinic in Texas to have testing – TOPS has the radiologist participating in the ultrasounds and discussing the findings in ‘real time’, I like this. My nurse practitioner stated she would look into my request and follow-up with me. The following day, Friday, I received a message from the oncologist that my request was granted, it was a matter of matching schedules, and we would connect Monday or Tuesday. I was in a good space. No worries. However, Friday early evening, I received a voicemail from the oncology scheduling office informing me that they had scheduled an appointment for me to be seen first thing Monday morning. I gasped. Normally, I would be ecstatic that I would not have to wait for an appointment. As my heart sank into my stomach, I said out-loud, “they think something is wrong”. Let me back-up really quick here. When I went to my annual appointment, it was going to be routine. My tumor markers looked good – all in normal range and I was more interested in discussing my freakishly low iron levels. I was going to decline a breast exam but thought I could have her look the area at the end of the scar. I was not concerned when leaving her office after all my tumor markers look good. I was not concerned until I received the telephone message noting my ultrasound appointment. I could sense the practitioner’s urgency. Now I was concerned.Monday morning I find myself listening to the radiologist tell me that the mass was cancerous and that there was lymph node involvement. Her recommendation was to immediately have a biopsy so a course of treatment could be charted. There I was, on the exam table, in the darkened room, thinking:

WHAT the WHAT?
Did she really just say that?
No way.
I don’t believe it!
Take it back!
You have no idea what you are doing!
Biopsy, um … NO!
Course of treatment – um… do you know who I am?

I was not emotional. I was however, shocked, numb, disconnected. Surely, this is some kind of mistake. What is now being called “The Mass” is cancerous; this was completely incongruent with my tumor marker tests. It does not make sense, no sense at all. I called my husband – when I told him their findings I could hear him gasp and quietly remark “oh my god”.I needed to be alone to process what I just learned. I apologized to my husband, I think in a text. I told him I was sorry – I know he did not sign up for this. His response – actually, I DID sign up for “this”, for better or worse. Why the hell was I apologizing? What exactly was it that I was apologizing for, it was not as though I went to the store and said, “Yep, I will take a nugget of cancer with side of lymph node involvement … have a nice day.”

As I drove to the coast, my mind was all over the place and I could not make sense of what was happening. I was numb and still in shock – still disbelieving that the cancer was back. I slowly walked along the shoreline, wiggling my toes in the cold dampened sand. After walking awhile, I scouted out a place to sit-down so I could write. 

As I approach the sandy beach, I peel off my socks and shoes. I plant my feet in the sand– feet and sand become one; I feel grounded. Drawn to the sea, I approach and instinctually turn left and stroll. Not inclined to rush, hurry; to get wherever it is I think I may be going. I walk. I gaze at the footprints left in the sand – a memory etched and left behind. I am reminded of early morning beach walks, just grandpa and me. My two footprints beside each one of his. We held hands you know. I would fill his pockets with treasures left by the sea. I always turn left; does this have meaning? Perhaps. I am in a daze. I sit upon the cold sand, bare feet buried in the sand. The sound of the sea is loud and echoes along the vast shoreline. Watching each wave’s distinct formation building only to crash to the ground.
Today I was told the cancer has returned by way of a tumor and it seems as though the precocious cancer has most likely went on holiday and traveled into my lymph nodes. I was calm and questioning. I don’t believe what the doctors were saying for many reasons. I walk in the sand breathing in the fresh sea air. I find solitude. I feel grounded. I feel peace. I feel my grandpa with me – he is smiling as he looks into my eyes. His eyes tell me I am true perfection – flaws and all.

I don’t believe the doctors, I just don’t. An image on a screen only details a guess, a suspicion. I say I don’t believe them, yet as I drove over the mountain, I was making mental notes of things I needed to say to people, the legacy I hope would be celebrated, ways I could let those I care deeply for can know I will forever be with them – even when I leave this lifetime. I could link these co-occurring thought patterns to my ADD combined with my love for organization. On the other hand, does it hold another meaning? I am not sure. I am okay with not knowing. I don’t have to know everything.

I believe that what we need will be provided, at just the right moments; we must simply be open to receiving. I was going to spend all day Saturday reading in preparation for the first day of the spring semester, which will begin Monday. Instead, I found myself enjoying some television followed by several hours of making earrings. Recently my close friend Leslie shared her jewelry making knowledge. I have to say that handcrafting earrings into interesting arrangements is calming, therapeutic, and rewarding. Before I knew it, the day had slipped away. I decided that a Calgon take me away moment, was exactly what I needed. As I relaxed, I began to read The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are (Brown, 2010). There it was; just what I needed. The words resonated deep within me. As I read, I reflected back on why I had apologized to my husband after learning the cancer has returned. I believe I felt shame that the cancer was back, fear of what was to come, and judgment of those around me. If the cancer is back – I have not only let myself down; I have failed everyone. My friends and family believed that if anyone could conquer this diagnosis, it was me. The naysayers would think and remark, “I told you so, this is what happens when you choose your so called alternative treatment – serves you right.” Those choosing alternative treatments would now have doubts. I turn back on myself and start making a list of things I could have or should have been doing better, more complete. There you have it – I was feeling shame and fear. This is a piece of literature to be celebrated and a must read. 

As Brene Brown writes:
Here’s the bottom line: If we want to live and love with our whole hearts, and if we want to engage with the world from a place of worthiness, we have to talk about the things that get in the way – especially shame, fear, and vulnerability. (Brown, 2010)

I am working on talking about the things that are getting in my way. My shame, fear, and vulnerability. I am going to show true courage, I am going to talk about some of my fears.
I am afraid.
I fear cancer is going to end my life.
I fear my time is short.
I fear I will lose my mind.
I fear looking into the eyes of those I love and feeling their pain and hopelessness.
I fear being in pain.
I fear not knowing.
I fear being alone.

I am a strong, hopeful, and realistic. I am week, fearful, impractical. I am beautiful because of my imperfections – perfectly imperfect. For now, I carry on. School begins tomorrow and I am looking forward to an exciting second semester. My first semester was incredible; I enjoyed nearly every moment! It was challenging academically, personally, and emotionally. Pleased that I made it through 13 credit hours (4 classes) earning a 4.0 GPA. Bigger than my GPA was my emotional and personal growth – this program has a way of nudging you to go deeper in your own journey. I will travel to Texas this month to obtain a second opinion on the mass in my breast. I will not be making any panicked decisions while in Texas including biopsies and/or surgery. I will however, be gathering information from all my practitioners. Upon my return, I will chart my course of action.

Today, I am hopeful~

Beta fish drop and so much more...

July 7, 2013, quietly come and went, marking the two-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. Today, I am doing well, feeling great on most days, and glance in my rear-view mirror less frequently. As I reflect over the past six months, I am reminded of several challenges and giggle slightly – let me explain.

Several months ago, I was experiencing frequent and painful headaches along with being increasingly focus challenged. I was terrified that I was developing brain cancer – statistically, this is the next stopping place for triple negative breast cancer (TNBC). I was not sleeping; my mind was carrying my thoughts to a lonely, fearful, and irrational place. Filled with fear and concern, I made an appointment with my oncology nurse practitioner. Walking through the doors of clinic, I was resigned to the idea that I would need a brain scan to locate the brain tumors, despite my concrete objection to scans. I sat nervously in the exam room waiting for Christy Lee, NP to make her entrance; she bounced cheerfully through the open door greeting me with “how are you doing?” I must have paused a little too long… she sat down, pulled out a pen, and a paper towel to write on while remarking, “I know you are not a fan of seeing us, what’s up?” I proceeded to frantically rattle off all of my concerning symptoms – forgetting to breathe and feeling faint as I was sweating uncontrollably. To say that I was a hot mess is a gross understatement! Christy Lee tried to rein me in as we processed one symptom at a time. In-between my symptom exploration, I had a light-bulb moment. I took a deep breath and said, “I know what is going on and it has nothing to do with cancer”. The symptoms all pointed to my ADD, which left untreated, rapidly elevates anxiety. Christy Lee continued to reassure me there was no evidence of brain cancer however; she would complete a series of interactive movement tests to confirm. Nearing the end of the testing, I was to track her moving finger with my eyes, reach out, and touch my finger to hers when the movement stopped. After a couple finger touches, I reached out and missed her finger, she gasped! I laughed and said, “I am just kidding!” We both laughed; we needed a moment of levity. SO, there is no suspicion of a brain tumor. 

Then there is Auntie Flow whom is overstaying her welcome – 18, 21, and 32 days at a time. Ironically, September – December 2011, while in the throes of a chemo-induced menopause, riddled with hot flashes and ridiculous night sweats, I longed to have Auntie back in my life to signal my body was coming back into balance. Now, I just want her to leave me alone! Crazy, frequent, chunky, and lengthy, is an accurate description of my experience during Auntie’s multiple visits. I was thinking, what the hell …. Really?!?! It looked and felt like I was delivering multiple beta fish every time I stood up. During these visits, I welcomed varying sizes of maxi-pads back into my life, my boys forced to do emergency maxi-pad store runs, along with an impromptu grocery isle celebration when I discovered the BIGGEST night night pads – whoop whoop! My Ayurvedic Practitioner, Sharon Kapp adjusted my daily herbal regiment. My Acupuncturist, Mandi Schwendiman provided TCM treatments to address Auntie’s extended stay. My GYN sent me for blood work and an invasive internal ultrasound. I did my research on how to get Auntie to vacate and ordered two essential oils from Young Living, Geranium and EndoFlex. Today, all signs point toward Aunties departure and/or reduction in length of stays. 

I love the way the universe/higher-power/God provides opportunities of support and enrichment when we need it the most. During my challenges, I experienced support and encouragement from not only my treatment team but also my family and chance encounters. My sister-in-law Athena was supportive and offered words of encouragement including urging me to embrace Auntie’s visits. I found myself sitting upon my throne, talking to Auntie Flow and asking her questions – such as what are you trying to tell me? Why will you not leave? What am I missing? While waiting for my ultrasound, a frail and soft-spoken woman, using a walker, made her way into the waiting room. The young woman walking with her excused herself to grab a cup of coffee. I let the young woman know that if her mother needed anything, I would help her out. The young woman remarked that her mom was stubborn and would not ask for help. After the daughter left, I struck up a conversation with the frail woman. I told her that I too was stubborn. We exchanged our reasons for our visits. She has been battling cancer for a while and now suffers with spine and neck pain due to the cancer metastasizing in her spine and limiting motion in her neck. She told me that she had exhausted her treatment options and accepted her life may be ending, “it is no longer in my control.” I shared my diagnosis and alternative treatment philosophy along with Auntie’s prolonged visit. The woman told me not to worry about Auntie; it was simply my body’s way of cleansing itself. I agreed. 

I recently participated in an unfamiliar alternative modality with a new practitioner. The experience was interesting and revealing, not from the modality perspective, but rather my interactions with the practitioner. It was clear that the practitioner required empirical and scientific validation that her treatments were effective. Among other things, she asked when I was getting my next scan. I asked why. She wanted a way to scientifically prove she was an effective provider. I explained to her that I do not believe in scans however, I do monitor my blood work every three months. I went on to let her know that I am doing well and that I did not need anyone to tell me that I am okay…I know that I am okay. I did not need scientific proof, she did. That is it … I KNOW I AM OKAY! 

July 2011 – When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was completing my undergraduate degree, had been accepted into the University of Houston: Graduate School of Social Work, and was working on an exciting project with Arrow, a Foster Care agency in Houston, Texas. 

July 2013 – I am entering year two of working with The Children’s Farm Home as a skills trainer with the Intensive Community Treatment Services program, accepted into George Fox University: Clinical Mental Health Counseling program that begins in September 2013, and am in the process of developing a program that will provide support to underserved youth. I feel like I am back on track, more grounded, and better prepared to continue my work serving children and families. 

I am excited about my future! I am eternally blessed to have my husband Curtis supporting, loving, and encouraging me each day. I am watching my boys grow into responsible young men. I am beyond thrilled to be starting graduate school in September. I am hopeful and dreaming big as I continue to develop my program to support underserved youth. Life is good.

Today, I am hopeful~