I hope my chin hair doesn't grow back.

I hope my chin hair doesn't grow back.

Since people are waiting on me to write now, I'll try to focus long enough to write a post each week. That's been my goal since I started blogging a few years ago, but I'm not making any promises. Right now my mind is in overdrive and picking just ONE topic to write about is kind of difficult!

This week my biggest concern is HAIR LOSS, so we'll go with that.

I'm not a fancy girl. I rarely remember to accessorize (even though I have a ton of jewelry...in my defense it's because a couple friends make jewelry and other people buy it for me). I wear minimal makeup, but ALWAYS wear my mascara because one of my friends will disown me if I don't. 95% of the time I drive to work with my hair sopping wet and throw it in a pony tail or braid after I've been at work for a few hours.

So, it seems like I'm a good person to survive hair loss. My cousin's eyebrows never grew back after chemo. Yes, ALL of my hair for those of you wondering.  My eyebrows and eyelashes and everywhere else I currently have hair-gone!  I HOPE my chin hair doesn't grow back after chemo!! :)

Even though I'm not fancy and I'm not all about hair, I feel pretty confident stating that ANY woman would have a rough time with this. I've only really cried about this small step in treatment with Heid a couple times. For the most part, I'm trying to make it fun and trying to laugh in the face of fear, but in my subconscious, I'm scared.

A couple friends tried on head scarfs when they were babysitting ME and we laughed and laughed at how silly they looked. One has a big head and the other has always had long hair...they looked funny! BUT, this is going to be my life in ONE WEEK. Next Wednesday is the day my doctor said I should shave my head because it will start falling out in clumps. One more week and my pretty highlights will be gone and replaced with a wig, a scarf, a chemo beanie or BALD.

NO HAIR. Even if I don't like to do my hair, that's a lot to swallow.

But, if I want to live, it's necessary, so I invited a few of my friends and my daughters to go wig shopping. Lilly insisted on bringing her friend, Paige, because she knows EVERYTHING about style! So we loaded a couple cars and went to Renee's Survivor Shop. Renee, a breast cancer survivor, was wonderful: calm, compassionate, open and honest.

http://www.rsurvivorshop.com/

She dealt (I use "dealt" in the nicest way possible, because some of my friends (MYSELF INCLUDED) can be a little overwhelming. Especially when we're all together;)) with me and all of my loud, crazy, beautiful friends nicely and placed wig after wig on my head. I tried on one that looked like a golden retriever, one that looked like Joe Dirt and a couple that looked ok. I ended up picking a longer one that I'll be able to braid and put in a pony tail.

Camille is so sweet and loving, but she's a little overwhelmed with all of the cancer attention. She waited until all of my friends left the wig room and hugged me ever so gently. She told me she'd rather have me wear the chemo beanie than the wig. She doesn't think that the wig looks like me, but the beanie looks like me. I don't know yet, but I'm thinking my quiet five year old is probably right. I'll probably wear the scarfs and beanies much more than the expensive wig, but I needed the wig. I need to feel prepared, have my plan of attack ready for next week when Aaron shaves the last of my blond hair off.


Wig shopping and then ice cream: peanut butter-hot fudge-hand scooped milkshakes make any day better!! :)

The wig I picked (still not real sure about it, obviously):

After wig shopping and spending time with my girlfriends and girlies, Aaron asked me how it went. I told him that it was fine and we picked the one we thought looked best, but then I opened the box with the wig in it and started to cry. He hugged me and told me that it doesn't matter what my hair looks like. I'll always be pretty. He reminded me how I do not like to shave my legs and that he'll love me no matter what.

BUT, losing your hair is still difficult. Even if my chin hair doesn't grow back!

My doctor said that some women find it easier to gradually go shorter...so I'm giving it a whirl:

My beautiful cousin texted me after I posted the above picture to facebook: How are you? Fine or fake fine?

The honest answer is somewhere in between. I sat in a dark room for a half hour before I posted the picture. I thought to myself: "It's just hair!" "It will grow back!" "Stop being vain!" "It could be worse." "This is going to cure it!"

And then I was ok.

This morning I did my hair in 3 minutes AND I'm getting used to it. When I looked at my reflection in a city street window I thought, "Ok, I can do this!"

Kiss my ass, cancer! I'm not scared.

But, I won't be sad if my chin hair doesn't grow back!

Club Chemo

When they told me that I had cancer, I texted Britt.  I needed a few pictures.  For me?  For the kids?  I don't know.  I need them to remember normal.  I need to remember normal.  People always talk about life BEFORE cancer and LIVING with cancer.  There's a big difference.  Now, I'm living it.

Britt squeezed us in, wore a pink hope shirt and refused payment...I am not sure that she'll ever know how much the pictures mean to me.

 

 

Soon enough though, "normal" was simply make believe.  My phone was ringing nonstop on Tuesday morning as we tried to set up all of the insurance and doctors and testing.  I was able to wrap most of the work that HAD to be completed before I took off prior to leaving, but I do have a few loose ends that are driving me batty.  When I left work, I was still feeling overwhelmed, but really I couldn't have concentrated on another task if I would have been able to stay and attempt to work.

 

Either way, I had to leave earlier than I intended to and Wednesday morning would come all too soon.  PARTIALLY because my oldest decided that it was just a GRAND time to get sick.  She also decided to attempt to make it to the bathroom each time verses simply throwing up in the puke bowl I had oh so gently placed next to her when she told me that she wasn't feeling well.  Instead, she thought the carpet...and her bedding...and the hallway carpet...and the rugs in the bathroom...and the floor in the bathroom...and of course the toilet ALL needed to be washed and sanitized.  THE DAY BEFORE I RECEIVE MY FIRST CHEMO TREATMENT.

 

Hey, why freaking not??  It was like your worst nightmare on crack, but I didn't even question it.  I continued to talk to some of my girlfriends like: Hey, this happens every day, right??  Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen and reminding me to breathe, Amanda, Krista and Marc.   Thanks for coming as soon as I texted you, Heid and Stace.  Next time I'll wait a few more minutes and let you guys clean up the puke;)

 

So, like it or not, Wednesday morning was there.  Bright and early, with pouring rain as Cleveland has greeted us with both times we've made the trip so far.  Nervous, tired, scared, but also so very loved.  Aaron cleaned and organized our room and all of my appointments are mapped out on a handy app (he uses his phone to do things other than facebook...I'm not sure why? ;)). Heidi loaded the car with a reassuring smile and choked down all the pain that my fight is bringing back to life for her.

 

Jake and Laine were both there to greet me after my echo cardiogram.  An echo cardiogram is a simple test for most people.  They were all very anxious to see me when I walked out because we all THOUGHT this test would take 20 minutes or so.  Of course this is on a normal person!  My ribs are too close together and the ultrasound beams couldn't penetrate accurately.  Instead I received poke #1 of 3 so that they could shoot some dye into me and get a better baseline of my heart...GAHHHH...COME ON.  JUST SOMETHING RUN SMOOTHLY, PLEASE?!?!?

 

Baby brother.

Once we started meeting with my team, things looked up.  Well, I guess that's a lie. AFTER the assistant to my nurse read my survey and told me that I had to meet with a social worker because I scored my anxiety at a 10 and I FLIPPED out on him. I told him that I had more than sufficient (I made him add MORE THAN) support and did not need one more person to talk to:)) After that, my nurse "slipped" and said she thought I was Her2 negative.  I tried not to get my hopes up, but good GOD was I praying that she was right.  SHE WAS:HER2 Negative!

My nurse, Nancy (Heidi thinks she's a paparazzi and I'm a movie star):
















After we completed the crash course, Chemo 101, we also met with my WONDERFUL doctor.  She's amazing.  She confirmed what Nancy had let slip and we all breathed a big sigh of relief.  Less treatment and a little less aggressive without the lovely HER2 and we're clinging to the good when we get it!


Perfect timing by one of my forever friends and sister when we want to play with people.  When you're at the clinic, you have appointment after appointment.  SOMEHOW, my beautiful friend met us smiling just as we were walking into the room before chemo.  Thanks, Kate.  Love you so much and I can't wait to open the bottle when this is all done!

But then the buzzer sounded (yes, the clinic uses buzzers) and it was my turn.  CRAP!  CRAP it's my turn.  Do you think people turn back when they are this far?  I probably would if I didn't have the three most beautiful babies to care for.   But, I do.  And they are worth it.

 

Trying to recreate what Britt did...unsuccessfully:)

After much discussion about my first IV and a failed attempt by nurse Katie, they went with my first IV of the day.  Half way through the treatment it didn't hold up. So they switched arms.  I'm attempting to do this treatment without a port.  Selfishly, they are already going to make enough scars on my young body and if I can avoid one, I'm going to give it a shot!

Sleeping peacefully...CLUB CHEMO.  WOOT FREAKING WOOT!! ;)

 

 

We tried to move chemo to Thursday for our convenience, but the bar owners are not listening to the customer demands. Everyone knows that the clubs are more rocking on Thursdays than they are on Wednesdays!! But the Clyde Quick Trip isn't open on Fridays.  So, we're going to continue to visit Club Chemo every other Wednesday followed by a stop at Clyde Quick Trip on the following Thursday! The day after chemo I have to get a shot of Nuelasta that helps to regenerate white blood cells...and makes my body feel like I have needles in my bones.

The treatment plan:

ACT Chemotherapy stands for A-Adriamycin, C-Cytoxan, T-Taxol

My first dose of A&C was administered Wednesday, April 24th.  I will receive 3 more doses of this cancer killing concoction over the next 7 weeks.  Next, they will switch it up a little and give me the T drug for another 4 doses, every other week.   This is protocol for the type of breast cancer that I have (Invasive Ductal Carcinoma: Estrogen-receptor positive (ER+), Progestrone-receptor positive (PR+), AND HER2-NEGATIVE!)  Her2 Negative was a big positive we learned before receiving my first treatment.  If I would have been positive, it would have added another 8 weeks of chemo AND nine months of hormone therapy at the tail end of treatment.  If my body is able to take all of the doses  without delay, the last chemo will be August 1st.

After chemo is completed, they will give me a small break for my body to recover and prepare for surgery.   When my body is ready, I will have a double mastectomy and reconstruction at the same time.   We haven't really talked about the recovery period or anything in depth about the surgery yet...my head is still spinning pretty fast simply trying to wrap my brain around all of the fun things chemo has to offer.

35 Radiation treatments will round out the first phase of the treatment plan and we haven't really went much farther than this in our discussions.

 

The blanket in the picture was an anonymous gift that I discovered the gift giver after investigation.  I picked this one for the first treatment because my Aunt Con delivered the blanket the night before my first appointment with my gynecologist.  I laid in my green chair and traced the names of my babies and prepared to fight.  Thanks, Rich.

His one and only goal:  Make sure we walk many long halls together until we are old and gray.  He's doing everything in his power to make it happen.

The Clinic

Friday morning after my mini nervous break down, we made our way to the Cleveland Clinic.  My brother and both sister in laws work at this crazy place, but I have never visited.  Jake handled the appointments when our Dad went there since I went to most of them here.   They have told me how big the place is many times, but I didn't grasp it until we passed block after block of the clinic entrances. 

We parked and walked the long hall, hand in hand.  The music was TERRIBLE.  It sounded like we were in the funeral home.  I wanted to throw up and I know that the hand in each of my hands was trying not to tremble, but all three of us were a train wreck on the inside.  More than once we received comments from complete strangers like:  "You guys are adorable" or "This is a picture moment if I've ever seen one".  We smiled and graciously nodded, but I did NOT feel like this was a picture moment.  At all!  I was still pretty confident that my body was full of freaking cancer, it was 8am, I did not have any coffee and they were playing funeral music!  Not in the mood to smile at strangers!

But we held hands and I felt like I could breathe a little easier.  I am completely aware that I have an army behind me, I needed to get it together and believe!  Check in:

Yet, when they asked me to come with them alone, that's exactly what I felt: ALONE.  Undress and put on this (freaking) gown.  You know the drill, nothing from the waist up and then join the rest of the frightened women in the waiting room.  Even though you recently had a mammogram, they will probably want you to do another one.

My lymph nodes are still very tender and the thought of another squish just about made me vomit, but sure enough the nice nurse retrieved me for a few more images. As we walked into the room I told her that it had only been a week since my biopsy and I'm still very tender...when a couple tears snuck out, I could tell that she could feel my pain and I was able to stop them for her sake.

Next I went to another waiting room to wait for them to retrieve me for my next adventure...ALONE.   Alone with my thoughts of the petscan results.  My heart racing and my head a mess, it took everything in me to keep it together.  When she finally asked if I wanted her to get Heidi, she couldn't move fast enough.  Men aren't allowed in this area since all of the women are wearing awesome gowns, so I was so glad I said yes when she asked if she could join us!

Heid sat down and I lost it.  WHAT IF, Heid?  What if?  What happens then?

Luckily, Heidi is the most (annoyingly) positive person ever.  She reassured me and cried with me and told me that even if "what if" happened that we were going to fight.

FINALLY, after what seemed like forever, they took us to meet with the surgeon.  The CHIEF of breast surgery at the Cleveland Clinic, doctor of the year in Ohio, squeezed us in (SUPER HUGE THANK YOU TO THE ROSPERT FAMILY FOR GETTING THE APPOINTMENTS SCHEDULED AND SENSING THE URGENCY).   The "Jean" in me peeked through and I asked the surgeon of the year: "What makes you the best?" BAHAHAHA...oops, ummm, well I'm the head of surgery at the freaking Cleveland Clinic, ummmm, DUH!! We met with my surgeon and he answered a few questions, but didn't have the results I was so anxiously waiting on.   Our next meeting was with the oncologist and she would have the results we so desperately wanted. 

The three of us waited (NOT PATIENTLY) for her to join us.  It seemed like HOURS, but it wasn't that long.  She introduced herself and started her spiel.  After the introduction she said: OUR MISSION IS A CURE!  A CURE!! YOUR PETSCAN IS CLEAR.  WE ARE OUT TO CURE YOU!!

Aaron yelled out an enthusiatic "YES!".  I hugged this doctor, that I had only just met, like she was my bestest of best friends.  (Aaron claims her to be the hottest woman he has ever seen;)).  I hugged my husband and cousin and FINALLY understood that I've got this!

We used sick cancer jokes that only cancer patients and their very closest loved ones can understand.  "Oh, I'm just going to loose my hair and your going to cut off my boobs? BUT, I'm going to live!?!?!"  Oh, ok.  We can do that!!!! 

Heidi said when we were alone that the staff probably wondered if they had told me yet if I had cancer?  We were OVER THE MOON and obnoxious and LOUD.  Very true to what everyone knows the Runion family to be.  It wasn't in my brain??  It wasn't everywhere??  Ok, we can do this!! Tears of JOY and the very first smile of the day!

Heidi's been wanting to star in a "Conversations with Crackheads" for a while now, but the things we talked about really aren't blog material.  Maybe a page for surviving a cancer diagnosis?  Maybe a book titled "The diagnosis", but not a blog post;)  But we most certainly had more than a few "Conversations with Crackheads" during our trip to the Cleveland Clinic.

Maybe we loved my oncologist because she gave us the good news, but more likely it was her.  She started from the very beginning to explain each step of her recommended treatment, answered any and all questions, and reassured me that we can do this!  Graciously assured us that if we decided to use a local oncologist that she would support us and help in any way she was able to.  WE LOVE HER.

During our long day at the clinic I had a breast MRI.  Another IV and you lay on your stomach for a half hour.  It sounds like a train is going by your head.  It was scary and not fun, but I survived.

We met with a genetic consultant (I don't know her actual title) before my final labs were drawn.  She was wonderful and I will write more about that when the results come back, but it was very informative, but scary.

 

Eight hours at the clinic and we accomplished so much.  We left ready to fight.  Willing to believe in defeating this beast! 

 

My first chemo treatment is Wednesday, April 24th at the Cleveland Clinic.  Scared, but ready.  GET UP!  Let's go!

 

Thank you so very much for all of the support and love.  It is appreciated more than you will ever know!!

 

 

SURVIVORS!!!!!

 

Best Siblings Ever (AND CUTEST NIECES EVER, DUH)

 

 

CHURCH PINKS OUT! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PET SCAN ANXIETY

Pet Scan: CLEAR...but only after A LOT of mental anguish.

When you prepare for a Pet Scan you don't eat any sugar for 24 hours.  Why?  Because the stupid cancer likes sugar!  I asked my uncle to take me to the appointment thinking I would get to wait with him.  He always smells good and gives the best hugs ever.  He's not my Dad, but he's taken over that roll in his baby brother's absence.  Most everyone knows my uncle because he is one of most genuine and giving people you will ever meet.   I called him and asked him and he dropped all that he was doing to take me...we MIGHT have taken a few wrong turns after the scan, but it was probably just so we could spend more time together;)

Once we grabbed a bite to eat and pulled into my empty house is where the "fun" began.  If you know me at all you can understand that if someone tells me NOT to do something, normally that makes me want to do it. Well, the Toledo Clinic sent me home with a CD of my Pet Scan knowing that I was going to the Cleveland Clinic the next day. The technician didn't even seal it!! As if I'm NOT going to look at the stupid thing!!  I understand that I'm not qualified to read scans.  I understand that people go to school for it and can be complicated, but I popped the CD in the computer as soon as I walked in the door.

AND I FREAKED!  There were two HUGE "hot spots" IN.MY.BRAIN.  I called Heidi and made her look...she was FREAKED, but she TRIED to hide it.  Then Amy and Kevin brought some food over and took a peak and they were FREAKED, but tried to be positive.  Ash came to drop the monsters off and looked and couldn't disguise her panic.  I know her the best and she was scared.

Aaron came home early to help tuck the kids in and tell me that he loves me...and I showed him.  He didn't go back to work.  Instead, we cried for hours and hours and hours until it was time to wake up and drive to Cleveland.  The thoughts that you think when you are diagnosed with cancer are unimaginable.   When you think it's in your brain, it's worse.  I was mentally preparing all of the things that I needed to do in a short amount of time.

When my dads cancer had spread, he would misplace things.   Our favorite story is him putting his wallet in the refrigerator.  We packed lunches before we left and Aaron couldn't find the peanut butter.  He asked if I opened the new peanut butter yesterday and I told him that I had and he should look other places because I have cancer in my brain...the peanut butter was in the wrong cupboard.

I fell to the floor in tears.  I was completely convinced that it was everywhere.  Not that I was having a rough week and might have hurriedly placed the peanut butter in the wrong cabinet, but certainly it was the cancer taking over my brain.  Aaron had to pick me up off of the floor.  He told me that he does that all of the time and I'm simply distracted.  HE HAS BEEN GREAT.  He's the one that has caught most of my tears and fears and I love him more each day.

He picked me up and dusted me off and told me that I would be great today.  So, we grabbed Heidi and we were on our way to the Cleveland Clinic.  Only for a consult to appease my mother and Mary Jo....so we thought;)



*** Side Note on Pet Scan:  Painless.  Shot glucose in my arm and I took a nap in a quiet room for a half hour.  I slid in and out of tube for another half an hour and I was done. If you're claustrophobic it would NOT be fun though;)

I didn't take any photos the day of the pet scan other than during the day when I was watching my babies play with daddy:

Making signs for Mommy: "Defeat Cancer! We love you!"

 

4,000 Views Equals A Lot of Prayers

Thank you so much for all of the wonderful, inspiring messages!  I have read them all and the love I have received is certainly palpable (one of the new words they use to describe the stupid c word growing inside of me can be much better used to describe the support I have received.  Palpable: Able to be felt or touched).  I can feel it.  I have messages from people praying all over the United States.  They are just as real to me as the scary stuff going on inside my body.


Today I'm going have a Pet Scan.  This is MUCH more scary than a mammogram or ultrasound.   Much more scary not because I have to be enclosed in a tube alone with my brain, but because the results have a major impact on my prognosis.

A Pet Scan will show hot spots if there is cancer present anywhere else in my body. 

Stupid freaking cancer likes to spread so this test is crazy important.

So, this post is mostly just to check in and ask you all to keep praying. 

I am doing alright mentally.  We have done the hardest thing in the world...we told our beautiful children that I have cancer.  That this journey is going to be scary and hard and no matter what Mommy and Daddy love them more than anything on this earth.  They know they have a ton of support and people to talk to when they're scared or mad or sad.  Lilly picked to wear pink today because "Mommy needs us all to fight!"

So, we're going to fight.

Hope and pray that this nasty stuff is contained.

Pray and believe in miracles.

Keep the loud, big, bold prayers coming.

Court, I will be thinking of this verse during the exam.  Thanks, my lady.

Psalm 112:7 They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.



HOPE

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Thanks, heid...your wisdom and truth mean so much more than your gifts, but I will wear them everyday with pride!

Kicking cancers ass in style;)

DAMMIT DOLL...SO PERFECT, ANG.  

I have it.

After the mammogram and ultrasound, I was worried, but I didn't really know true worry until the next day.  Jo, my favorite nurse at the gynocologists office called. (She pretends that I'm going to weigh in under 150 every time I step on the scale and the other B knows I'm going to be over that mark...it's the little things, ya know!?)  She asked if the radiologist went over my results with me.  I told her that yes, he informed me that he would like me to have further testing which included multiple biopsies and a chest MRI.  She continued to read from my report "Highly suspicious of malignancy, Birad 5".

And I stopped listening.  I started to research.  I have an online PhD if you didn't know that. Cancer terminology isn't new or confusing because I know it already.  The Birad scale is what radiologists use to tell the surgeons how concerning the lumps are.  The only thing higher than a five is a six...you can't score a six until it's confirmed by a biopsy.

EFF.

I went to Ashley's to workout after working all day.  Working out usually makes me a little less stressed.  I was looking forward to a hug and lots of sweat.  But, as I was pulling in, my general practioner called.  He knows me and knows that I like it straight.  Doesn't sugar coat because it'll just piss me off. 

He told me to prepare to fight.  They don't score a patient a 5 unless they are pretty darn sure.  He would recommend radical treatment. 

Jokingly I asked him for some Xanax. 

Quickly he responded: Laura, you might need some.  Please call if you do.

4/9/13

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The next day I met with a surgeon.  She was more optimistic, but did not shy away from the very real possiblity of malignancy either.  She answered questions as to why they believe it to be cancerous: Shape, dimensions, lymph activity.  All the things I know all to well.

We planned to meet her the next day for a needle biopsy with ultrasound guiding of two masses and a lymph node.  We all tried to remain positive, but we know this all to well.  We've been down this road before.

4/10/13

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I went to work the morning of the biopsy.  I did not complete one single task.  NOT ONE.   I starred at a blank computer screen or I researched breast cancer.

I arrived for the biopsy ready to go.  Ready to get this show on the road.  The surgeon was great.  Quick in and out.  It hurt, but no tears.  I'm tough.  I can do this.  I'm going to own this.

And then it was all over and one of the nurses, trying to comfort me-no doubt, said: "Wouldn't it be a great surprise if it wasn't cancer!?" 

All of the sudden, it was real.  I couldn't breathe.  I felt dizzy.  Tears started streaming down my face, but I tried to keep it together.  They asked if I was able to sit up and I thought to myself: I ran 4 miles a couple days ago, of course I can freaking sit up!! But when I sat up I felt dizzier.  I had to lay back down.  They had to get me orange juice and blankets and tell me to breathe.  I looked yellow...I felt black and blue.

They patiently worked overtime for me and told me to take my time.  They let me sit for my mammogram this time because they didn't want me to pass out.  The mammogram hurt this time.  The numbing agent didn't account for my anxiety attack and after a bunch of needles are poked into your breast and you don't take the pictures while your breasts are still numb, the mammogram hurts a little more. 

My first panic attack.  I survived.  I'm still on the fence about meds and I have been ok since.  Teary eyed and distant, but ok.

4/11/13

Now more waiting. 

4/16/13

The waiting is over. I have invasive ductal carcinoma with lymph nodes that test positive. 

I have breast cancer. 

I'm ready.  I am ready to fight.  I've been ready to fight for a few weeks now, but I've been waiting for confirmation that it's time.

I have flowers.  I have loving, supportive family ready to fight with me.  I have more friends than one single person could possibly ask for.

All I need now is prayer. 

Big, bold, noisy prayers.  The kind of prayers that drop you to your knees.  That kind.  That's all I need.

I'm ready.  Let's fight.



 

Trying to show a friend that I was ok before meeting with the surgeon;)

I'm a warrior.  I can do this....EXCEPT.  I turned yellowish-green when the nurse just assumed it is the stupid effing C word.  When I changed back into the Warrior Dash shirt, I didn't feel like a warrior and I noticed the title of the magazine...LIVING WITH CANCER.

Part of my war wound...

Hey, can you come out tonight?  I need to go out.  Yep, we'll be there.

Love my golden girls.  Pampering was just what I needed.