Prayers needed

Father God, In the name of Jesus, right now Father, we claim total healing from the top of the head to the sole of the feet. We know you can remove the cancers and when the doctors go in, they find nothing. We know Father that you can give the doctors the skill, knowledge, and desire to go in and remove every tiny bit of that cancer. However, the healing happens, Father, we will give you the praise, We will love you, We will thank you. We ask you right now to be with this person as she goes through this and to provide comfort, peace, and understanding. We ask for the patience, understanding, forbearance, and longsuffering of her family as she goes through this. We always ask that whatever the outcome, it be done according to your perfect will and we will give you the praise for you are a worthy God. We ask you to also forgive us our trespasses, sins and misdeeds. It is in the might, holy, precious, and perfect name of Your Son Jesus that we ask these things. Amen.
 
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Thank you, everyone, for your prayers -- private and public (thank you, Ricky). For those of you who are interested in the details of a breast surgery, I post this update. If you'd rather pass on this lengthy post, I totally understand. :)

I went in at 7:45 AM Tuesday. They admitted me, then sent me to radiology where they inserted a wire (not unlike a #22 floral wire) to locate the mass for the surgeon, and they injected a radioactive dye into the breast. Then I sat with my husband,Al, and my next door neighbor (who came to keep my husband company during the wait). in the waiting room for a little over an hour (re-reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) to allow the dye to travel. This was to set up the "sentinel lymph node biopsy." Once I went into surgery, the first thing the surgeon did was trace the route of the dye to the lymph nodes with a scope. She removed the first three lymph nodes that "lit up" and brought them to pathology for examination. The first two nodes they examined (which were actually the two furthest from the lump) were clear of cancer cells. The hoped for outcome was that all of the nodes would be clear. Then it would be labeled Stage 1, which requires radiation treatment follow-up. Stage 2 means the cancer has traveled, and they add chemo to the follow-up treatment.

When they examined the third node, that had been closest to the lump, they did find some microscopic cells - no clusters, just some isolated cells. Technically, that sent it to the Stage 2 definition, but only just. (They're calling it Stage 2 N0.) But because of the minute amounts of cells found, the surgeon feels (and the oncologists will weigh in later) that radiation only may still be called for. She took the tumor with an extra 1 cm of breast tissue all the way around it (the size of a baseball?), and did not remove any more lymph nodes. If, by chance, the pathologist (who continued to examine that nearest node), finds any more cancer, or the oncologist feels they did not take enough, they can always go back in (within a week) and take more, but the surgeon does not think that is going to be the case.

They should have had a final pathology report by the end of the day yesterday. I am waiting to talk to the surgeon again this morning. (And she told me if either of my children want to talk to her and ask her questions, they'd be free to call her.)

So, I woke up in recovery and have the anesthesiologist to thank that I did not get nauseated -- not when I moved from the table to a recliner, and not when I took my first walk to the rest room. (I've had three previous out-patient surgeries of various types involving general anesthesia, and this is the first time I have not had to deal with the urps.) I was even fine on my not-so-easy ride home from the hospital (Al is not the smoothest of drivers). As a matter of fact, on the way home he asked me if I thought I could eat a DQ cone. I answered to the affirmative and was treated to a large chocolate cone which never tasted better -- partly because I hadn't eaten since the previous night, my throat was sore from the insertion tube, and it was 93 degrees out!!

They told me to eat light and bland that night. But hell with that. We had BBQ ribs, grilled turkey and pasta salad brought over from a friend, and all of that sounded so extremely good to me. After a one-hour nap when we got home (both of us), Al heated it up and I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner and the ensuing thumping of the Royals by the Twins (my apologies to any KC fans for that remark).

Al took yesterday off, and came with me to the shop, where we passed the day. I didn't have to do much, but I just love to be there. I did fine until about 2:30, when I hit the wall. Got tired and crabby, and was sent to the back room to spend time resting in Grandma's old rocking chair.

Last night we dined on my next door neighbor's sausage lasagne, salad and hot, fresh-baked bread. I tell you, I have the greatest neighbors in the world.

Thank you,everyone, for all of your prayers and good wishes. Pray for no more cells in that lymph node. I'll be in touch again after the surgeon's call.
 
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Annette,
Thanks for the update - I was thinking about you all day and hoping that the news would be good.
oh, and your neighbors sound wonderful!
Emily
 
Thanks for the update Annette xx Take care and all that food sounds well yummy!!!
 
I was supposed to have heard from my surgeon this morning, but by late afternoon, I still hadn't. So I called and l finally reached my surgeon. The reason she hadn't called yet is because she didn't get a call from the pathologist until 4PM today; he's been looking at that third lymph node and couldn't come to a final conclusion about it, so has sent samples to Mayo Clinic. Apparently it is highly unusual to have microscopic scattered cancer cells like that; they tend to want to clump, and there was no clumping. The pathologist doesn't quite know what to make of it, so is looking from some direction from Mayo.

It is doubtful we will hear by the end of the day tomorrow; probably by Monday. The surgeon is still optimistic, however, that there were no clumps. She feels the cells will respond to radiation. But we still don't have a final call on this.

So ... please don't take me off those prayer lists yet.
 
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Hopefully the Mayo Clinic will provide answers sooner than later. Continued thoughts and prayers for you and yours Annette. And you do have wonderful neighbours!

V
 
I sincerely apologize for my silence these past couple of weeks. I stirred everyone up with my initial news, and then neglected to keep everyone suitably informed thereafter. I’ve been tired, busy and involved with company, so now I’d like to catch everyone up.

I have recovered nicely from the surgery. My two incisions (one under my left breast where the tumor was removed and the other under my left arm where the three lymph nodes were removed) have been healing well (we were given WAY to many Vicodin to take home; I think I only used 7 pills total, including one to get me through the Twins game at Target Field 3 days after surgery).

I had a follow-up appointment with my surgeon a week ago Thursday (8/4) to go over all of the findings. They were pretty much what we had already heard, with a few minor edits. She (Dr. Amy Whitson, my outstanding surgeon) removed a 9 cm lump from the lower part of my left breast, somewhat recessed into the chest cavity (she had described it to my husband as the size of a baseball, but I'm pretty sure a baseball is bigger than 9 cm). Of this, 3 cm was the diameter of the actual cancer tumor (they had told me 2 cm earlier), the balance was additional tissue. To be classified as Stage IIA cancer, the tumor must have been 2 cm or less, so this pushed me into the Stage IIB category (not that that’s a big deal).

When the pathologist examined the nearest lymph node, he was puzzled by the fact that the cancer cells in it were microscopic and scattered. Generally when a cancer spreads, it begins replicating immediately, and so they find one or more clumps, which they measure to further define the situation. N0 means the metastasis is < .02 cm. Because these cells were scattered, they had to estimate the combined size, which originally they said was in that range. However, they revised it to .03 cm, so that put me at N1mi (for microscopic). The only difference these numbers make is that they confirm that they will add chemo to my follow-up treatment; they might have anyway, even if I had been Stage IIA N0, but for sure if it’s Stage IIB N1 chemo is recommended.

As previously mentioned, the pathologist also sent his findings to both Mayo and Methodist, to get additional opinions on whether they should go back in and take any more lymph nodes out. The unanimous decision was that this was unnecessary. They feel that with radiation, chemo and hormone therapy, if there are any more scattered cells left in me (presumably in lower quantities than what they found in the nearest lymph node), they will be destroyed by the treatment anyway. Saves me from getting cut open again.

My next appointment will be my initial consultation with Dr. Blumenreich on Monday, the physical oncologist and hematologist. He will lay out my treatment schedule, and discuss all the pros and cons of the treatment options. A couple weeks later I’ll be introduced to Dr. Sperduto, who is the radiation oncologist. So I still don’t know what order these treatments will come in, nor their frequency, duration, intensity or timetable. We won’t know until we start whether they produce the normal side effects, or if my body has a different reaction to them. I don’t know how sick, tired, or anything else I’ll be, so I don’t know how this will affect my energy level or work load. It’s another adventure.

On a more positive note, my son and daughter, who both live in Southern CA, came to see me last weekend. I see my daughter (age 30) quite regularly, but this was her first visit since my diagnosis. She left to go back on Monday. I had not seen my son (age 25) in a year and a half, so it was awesome to have him here. I have missed him incredibly. He left Wednesday morning. It was a great, fun weekend – maybe one of the best we’ve had together in 5 years.

I will try to be better about my updates, now that I’ve hooked you all into this melodrama of mine. I’ll let you all know what I learn about my ongoing treatment. Your prayers are felt; thank you!
 
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Continuing support and love.

V
 
Annette,
Have you heard of caringbridge.com? We used it extensively last year when my little sister was diagnosed with Lymphoma, it is a way for family and friends to keep in touch when it is difficult to keep everyone informed on a one-on-one basis. My sister's site is bpositive, which is her attitude and her blood type. I know she would not mind anyone looking at it and it might be right for you.
 
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Hi Annette,
Thanks for the update - it all sounds very positive (YAY, no more surgery!)
Keep that positive attitude of yours and take it one day at a time; I'm praying for you.
Emily
 
Annette,

So glad to hear from you, I was beginning to wonder what was happening. I know it's frustrating to just wait for test results, and didn't want to harrass you!

How wonderful that you got to spend time with your kids.

Your attitude continues to impress me, I do believe I would be feeling sorry for myself and here you are, apologizing for asking us for support. We gladly give it, we would be quite upset had you not told us about it.

Continued love and prayers!
Linda
 
I was just going to recommend caringbridge. Sendng you love and support always. Family and friends HELP the most
 
Annette, ONE of us has to smack you for keeping us in such suspense, so, consider yourself smacked!!
On a side note....... :) thanks, and be brave, be vigilant, be you!!
 
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Thanks, everyone -- for the prayers, support and smacks. :)

Rather than rewrite a whole new email, forgive me if I just paste here the email I just sent to my family and friends.

Hello, everyone!

Well, we now know what we have ahead of us. Let’s just say I’ll be glad when winter is over! :)

We had a great consultation with my oncologist, Dr. Martin Blumenreich in Waconia. He reminds me of Lenny (for those of you who know my dear old friend who used to work in the workshop of our building, and moved with the Treasure Chest folks to Shakopee last spring), except that he has a German accent. He was very thorough and clear about what my situation is, how they plan to treat it, what the risks are, what the side effects are, and what they can do to try to mitigate those risks and side effects. While we had some questions going into the consultation, we had none left when he was finished.

The first thing we’re addressing is that I have a mild infection at the breast incision site. Not serious; nothing a week’s worth of amoxicillin won’t cure.

I’ll be starting chemotherapy on Monday, August 23. The chemo treatment involves going in every two weeks for a 2-hour intravenous treatment. Each chemo treatment is followed 24 hours later by an injection. That’s because the chemo not only kills cancer cells, but it has other effects as well, including causing my bones to cease production of white blood cells. For this reason, infections are a risk during chemotherapy. While there is a storehouse of white cells now, these can get used up during the process, and no more get produced until the treatment regimen is over. The injection somehow helps in the production of white cells. (I think I got that right.)

Anyway, this first round of chemo will involve two drugs, and the bi-weekly 2-hour treatments will last for 8 weeks. According to Dr. B, this will be the roughest part of my ongoing treatment. Side effects are fatigue, nausea, loss or change in taste or appetite, etc. for one day, three days, a week – we don’t know yet; everyone is different. Roughly three to four weeks into the treatment, I’ll lose my hair – all of it, eyelashes, eyebrows, everything. We’re debating about scarves, a wig or au naturale (my husband is not in favor of the latter). We have the treatments scheduled for every other Monday at 2:30 pm. I picked Mondays because they’re usually the slowest day of the week at the shop, and this way I’ll at least get to be at the shop until 2:00 that day before having to go in. Whether I’ll be up to coming to the shop the next day remains to be seen. Some of this is still a mystery.

After that will be another 8 weeks of chemo using a third drug only. Apparently this one will be easier for my body to handle, but I thought he said these would be 4-hour treatments (can’t remember everything). Then after that will be six weeks of daily radiation and anti-estrogen hormone therapy. These daily appointments will take 10 minutes – 9 of which will be positioning the machinery for a 1 minute zap. So all of this should be completed by mid-January, giving me a month to get ready for Valentine’s Day!!

I may need some of my friends to help from time to time. Some are already volunteering for driving duty. Al will be with me for the first chemo treatment, but after that it really doesn’t make sense for him to take off work to sit and watch me read or work on the laptop or whatever for a couple of hours. So I thought if I could get a ride to the lab, he could pick me up on his way home from work. Also, I may be too tired 24 hours later to drive myself in for my injection. Then there’s the issue of the shop. I still haven’t decided what to do about that. I may just close for half days from time to time. I know many of you offered to take a “training course” on my POS system so you could help ring up sales, but honestly, business is EXTREMELY slow during the week. And by the weekend, when it’s busier, I should be fine to come in. Meals on treatment day would be extremely welcome – at least for Al. I don’t know exactly what will taste good to me; the doctor said I might find myself loathing old favorites and craving things I otherwise wouldn’t touch. But I don’t see myself cooking that night.

Here’s the kicker that I learned. When my hair starts to grow back, it’s possible it will be a different texture (more straight or more curly), or even a different color (darker, lighter, or maybe gray!), but it’s likely it will be thicker than it was before! THICKER!! How is that possible! I have so much hair right now, when I get it cut Sheri has to thin it by, like, 30% just so I can dry it in a reasonable amount of time.

As it stands right now, my first couple of treatments are as follows:
Monday, August 23 Chemo 2:30-4:30 PM
Tuesday, August 24 Injection 4:15 PM
Wednesday, Sept 8* Chemo, Dr. appt 11:30 AM–2:30 PM
Thursday, Sept 9* Injection 2:30 PM
Monday, Sept 20 Chemo 2:30-4:30 PM
Tuesday, Sept 21 Injection 4:15 PM

*This is because Monday is Labor Day, so that week will get screwed up a little. Otherwise, the Monday/Tuesday schedule should continue all the way to the end of November with the possible exception that, if I heard correctly, starting in mid-October, the treatments might have to start at 12:30.

Anyway, that’s where we stand right now. Maybe next week I’ll be able to give everyone a first-hand education on what chemo feels like and what I’m doing to handle it. I know my kids feel bad about my having to go through with this. And, of course, if it were my choice, I’d pass on this adventure. But, as I learned long ago, I’m not in control anyway - of anything, except my attitude. So we’ll go through this as best we can. Ever since I found out this news, I have never felt, “Woe is me. Why did this have to happen to me?” Instead, I feel as though there is some reason I was chosen to do this. God intended for me to go through this trial. And some good will come from it – maybe for me, maybe for someone else. But this is the task I’ve been selected to carry out.

“God, help me to remember that nothing is going to happen to me today that, together, You and I can’t handle.”
 
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Annette,

Thank you very much for the update. My prayers continue for you. Your attitude is what will bring you through. And quite possibly, somebody who is watching you and then has the same sort of diagnosis will be better able to cope simply because of the way you have handled it with grace and poise.

Love you!
Linda
 
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