Phew is a little trite, but there it is.
I got a message today from my oncologist's office (lovely Betsy) to say that my tumor markers are all excellent, well within normal ranges, and that everything looks normal. I was told "See you at your next regular check up - have a great summer!" and this, needless to say, is excellent news.
But when I heard Betsy's voice on the phone, and she said she had an update for me, in those two seconds before I heard the good news, my stomach clenched and my blood pressure shot through the roof and my brain shut down. The good news helped me to breathe again, but the physical effects of the fear are real, and they will take a while to go away.
This, in the middle of a good day. Tessa and I spent the day at "Grandma Dorothy's house" - Grandma Dorothy is the preschool teacher's mother, and she comes every Friday to the school to read stories and deliver home made cookies made in the shape of the theme of the week (a bat, or a salmon, or a spider, etc.). All of the children adore her, and going to her house was a real treat. Dozens of children, with almost an equal number of parents, played on the beach, BBQd, and enjoyed the day.
Once home, Tessa and I ran errands (including a fun stop at the used book store to pick up some new books for Tessa - bargains because we have store credit) and went grocery shopping.
And now we're waiting for Ryan to come home, and the weekend to begin. Dave Matthews is singing on the radio, the sun is shining, and the grill is waiting to cook our burgers. Maybe we'll go to Ercolini Park after dinner, or maybe we'll sit in the hammock, or maybe we'll play Go Fish at the outdoor table....but whatever it is, I'm looking forward to it.
And I'm trying to remember to breathe again, to not focus on the fact that I actually HAVE an oncologist, or why, but instead to focus on the good message.
Phew.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Aftershocks
I find myself just about falling apart tonight.
When I found the lump, the "real" one, it was right before Memorial Day weekend, and I had to wait over the weekend to find out what it was. It was what I feared most at that time, as we all know. (Now, I don't fear cancer the most. I fear dying. Cancer, I can fight. Dying, well, that's permanent.)
This was really, really deja vu.
And tonight I'm pretty much shaking. Relief, but something more. I can feel the cancer beast breathing over my shoulder, its nasty breath hot in my face, grumbling, "Not this time. Maybe next time."
When I found the lump, the "real" one, it was right before Memorial Day weekend, and I had to wait over the weekend to find out what it was. It was what I feared most at that time, as we all know. (Now, I don't fear cancer the most. I fear dying. Cancer, I can fight. Dying, well, that's permanent.)
This was really, really deja vu.
And tonight I'm pretty much shaking. Relief, but something more. I can feel the cancer beast breathing over my shoulder, its nasty breath hot in my face, grumbling, "Not this time. Maybe next time."
Relief
I went to my oncologist, Dr. Rinn, today. I am declared okay. I can breathe again; I can exhale.
What I didn't say on my blog is that last week I found three new lumps, all in a row, on my "healthy" side. They weren't there, and then they were. They were hard, and visible when I looked in the mirror.
They terrified me. For a moment, my mind went to the darkest places - the fear of what would come, the gratitude that I'd had another three years with Tessa and Ryan after the initial diagnosis. I thought that if this were it, at least Tessa would have memories of me. It is not an accident that I carry my camera everywhere. One day, Tessa will know that her mother wanted to capture every moment, fully aware of how precious it is. If I am gone, the pictures will remain.
My mind visited these dark places and tried not to panic.
The bell curve of reoccurances shows that the greatest number, in my kind of cancer, occur between years two and three after diagnosis. My three year diagnosis anniversary is June 1, and I choked to think that I might not get to that anniversary without the reoccurance. I'm not safe after June 1 - it just doesn't work like that - but my risk decreases. June 1 this year is very symbolic to me.
But today, Dr. Rinn definitively stated that it was scar tissue and adhesions pulling on the expander. She was certain. She was not concerned. She told me to call tomorrow to get my bloodwork (CA 27.29) results back, but not to worry. She said to come back in November, after my next surgery, to get checked and to get another DEXA (bone density) scan.
I couldn't wait to get out of the building. Tessa was with me, so I put on my best Mommy face and tried to be brave, but it was all that I could do to keep from hyperventilating; tears were close at hand and I had to focus intensely to keep them back. It felt overwhelmingly terrifying. I think I can say that I HATE visiting there.
But it's over, and I was declared safe for the moment. I am grateful.
Grateful.
What I didn't say on my blog is that last week I found three new lumps, all in a row, on my "healthy" side. They weren't there, and then they were. They were hard, and visible when I looked in the mirror.
They terrified me. For a moment, my mind went to the darkest places - the fear of what would come, the gratitude that I'd had another three years with Tessa and Ryan after the initial diagnosis. I thought that if this were it, at least Tessa would have memories of me. It is not an accident that I carry my camera everywhere. One day, Tessa will know that her mother wanted to capture every moment, fully aware of how precious it is. If I am gone, the pictures will remain.
My mind visited these dark places and tried not to panic.
The bell curve of reoccurances shows that the greatest number, in my kind of cancer, occur between years two and three after diagnosis. My three year diagnosis anniversary is June 1, and I choked to think that I might not get to that anniversary without the reoccurance. I'm not safe after June 1 - it just doesn't work like that - but my risk decreases. June 1 this year is very symbolic to me.
But today, Dr. Rinn definitively stated that it was scar tissue and adhesions pulling on the expander. She was certain. She was not concerned. She told me to call tomorrow to get my bloodwork (CA 27.29) results back, but not to worry. She said to come back in November, after my next surgery, to get checked and to get another DEXA (bone density) scan.
I couldn't wait to get out of the building. Tessa was with me, so I put on my best Mommy face and tried to be brave, but it was all that I could do to keep from hyperventilating; tears were close at hand and I had to focus intensely to keep them back. It felt overwhelmingly terrifying. I think I can say that I HATE visiting there.
But it's over, and I was declared safe for the moment. I am grateful.
Grateful.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Joys and Sorrows
Today at church, during the brief sharing which preceeds the service, I shared my sorrows.
It felt good to say Cathy O'Brien's name out loud in a sacred space. Today one of the musical interludes was an Irish sounding soung on a guitar and a harmonica, and it somehow reminded me of her and felt fitting, like I'd been able to attend her funeral almost. I held her close to my heart and meditated on some of the words she's written on YSC and her impact upon me.
I shared Cathy's passing, and how sorrowed I am by it, with the congregation. As tears slipped out, I also said, "She was diagnosed two months before me, and though I'm healthy now, I'm so frightened that I might follow in her footsteps."
I also shared that I am dreading my upcoming surgery. Three years (almost) of fighting. I'm so tired of fighting. I want peace.
The congregation was kind. I was hugged, approached, smiled at. I was told that I would be held in thoughts, that I would be prayed for, that they would meditate on my healing. Different people spoke to me in different ways, all kind. This is a fellowship at its best.
It helps me to share. That's why I share so much here, too. It makes me feel less alone in my fight. Maybe my pain will lessen someone else's by making them feel less alone in their struggles, whatever they may be.
But then I came home and took an anti-anxiety pill, which is still not taking effect. I have an acid-reflux feeling in my belly that I'm certain is a fit of nerves. It took a lot out of me to speak today, to admit my fear out loud (harder than in writing, for me at least), to cry pubicly.
Sigh.
It felt good to say Cathy O'Brien's name out loud in a sacred space. Today one of the musical interludes was an Irish sounding soung on a guitar and a harmonica, and it somehow reminded me of her and felt fitting, like I'd been able to attend her funeral almost. I held her close to my heart and meditated on some of the words she's written on YSC and her impact upon me.
I shared Cathy's passing, and how sorrowed I am by it, with the congregation. As tears slipped out, I also said, "She was diagnosed two months before me, and though I'm healthy now, I'm so frightened that I might follow in her footsteps."
I also shared that I am dreading my upcoming surgery. Three years (almost) of fighting. I'm so tired of fighting. I want peace.
The congregation was kind. I was hugged, approached, smiled at. I was told that I would be held in thoughts, that I would be prayed for, that they would meditate on my healing. Different people spoke to me in different ways, all kind. This is a fellowship at its best.
It helps me to share. That's why I share so much here, too. It makes me feel less alone in my fight. Maybe my pain will lessen someone else's by making them feel less alone in their struggles, whatever they may be.
But then I came home and took an anti-anxiety pill, which is still not taking effect. I have an acid-reflux feeling in my belly that I'm certain is a fit of nerves. It took a lot out of me to speak today, to admit my fear out loud (harder than in writing, for me at least), to cry pubicly.
Sigh.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Therapy
A good therapist is worth her weight in gold. At last, I have a good one.
Today was a good session. She allows me my fears, and then helps me with them.
The fears are still there. They'll never go away. But I'm learning how to manage them.
Today was a good session. She allows me my fears, and then helps me with them.
The fears are still there. They'll never go away. But I'm learning how to manage them.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Is 10 my lucky number?
I'll never be a perfect 10 (ha). But 10 might be my lucky number.
I'm just back from the new plastic surgeon's office. Dr. Isac at the PolyClinic was very professional, highly recommended, and spoke kindly and rationally to me.
Surgery number 9 is scheduled for May 14. He will be removing my implants, disconnecting a muscle, tweaking, and placing a different kind of tissue expander on both sides.
Surgery number 10 is scheduled for October some time (date TBD), to remove the tissue expanders and place "permanent" implants.
It makes me feel like throwing up - literally - to be planning TWO more surgeries. Just when I think I've made progress, just when I think I can handle one more surgery, I'm being asked to have TWO.
Lately, it seems like whatever I'm willing and able to give, I'm asked to give double. This is sometimes more than I think that I can bear. But of course I can bear it, because I must. I don't see myself as having a lot of choice in the matter.
Now, I can hear the counter argument, "Of course you have a choice! These surgeries are elective! Stop while you're ahead! In clothes it's not noticable! It's not like you're a swimsuit model!"
I know. I know, I know, I know. But here's the thing. From the very beginning, I told Tessa, "It's okay, honey. One day the doctors will build me a new nipple." I have clung to that idea, and so has she. I have built it up to be a symbol of my healing. No nipples? Not done. It's simplistic, maybe even childish, but while I see my chest as deformed as it is, I see myself as a cancer patient. I feel like I need to do this to get it behind me.
I'm just back from the new plastic surgeon's office. Dr. Isac at the PolyClinic was very professional, highly recommended, and spoke kindly and rationally to me.
Surgery number 9 is scheduled for May 14. He will be removing my implants, disconnecting a muscle, tweaking, and placing a different kind of tissue expander on both sides.
Surgery number 10 is scheduled for October some time (date TBD), to remove the tissue expanders and place "permanent" implants.
It makes me feel like throwing up - literally - to be planning TWO more surgeries. Just when I think I've made progress, just when I think I can handle one more surgery, I'm being asked to have TWO.
Lately, it seems like whatever I'm willing and able to give, I'm asked to give double. This is sometimes more than I think that I can bear. But of course I can bear it, because I must. I don't see myself as having a lot of choice in the matter.
Now, I can hear the counter argument, "Of course you have a choice! These surgeries are elective! Stop while you're ahead! In clothes it's not noticable! It's not like you're a swimsuit model!"
I know. I know, I know, I know. But here's the thing. From the very beginning, I told Tessa, "It's okay, honey. One day the doctors will build me a new nipple." I have clung to that idea, and so has she. I have built it up to be a symbol of my healing. No nipples? Not done. It's simplistic, maybe even childish, but while I see my chest as deformed as it is, I see myself as a cancer patient. I feel like I need to do this to get it behind me.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Cancerland
Tomorrow I'm walking back into Cancerland by choice.
I am meeting with a new plastic surgeon to discuss my options for corrections. By my own standards, my current reconstruction status is a mess, and I hate it.
There. I hate it. I said it. When I look at it, I'm reminded of the events of last October, and the emotional fallout of that experience.
So tomorrow I'm going to consult with another PS to discuss what is and is not correctable. If corrections are possible, I would like to proceed in the spring to get it over with.
I have a lump on my eyelid along the incision and it itches like mad (and has since surgery in October). My right, prophylactic side, has scars that I can't explain and they're jagged and rough. My areola on that side looks like a wound, and it's in pieces. The nipple is non-existant. There's a weird divet in the middle of it all, and some pitting in the skin.
My left side aerola looks more normal/as I expected, but the nipple area is actually lower than the rest of the breast. There's a weird puffiness on one side of the breast. And worst of all, that breast is shaped like half of a canteloupe, and it's significantly bigger than the other breast. (Do NOT chime in here that all women's breasts have some assymetry. I know that. I am not talking about norms here, I'm talking about something beyond that.)
Because I told myself that getting this work done would be a symbol of my ability to move on....I feel like I'm bogged down by the symbol. When I see my breasts, I hate them. I don't want to hate my own body. I don't want to see betrayal, torture, pain, ugliness when I look at my chest. I don't expect beauty, but I don't want to feel so....deformed. Artificial.
I don't know if it's correctable. I don't know what the PS will say. But I'm going to try this again.
And it makes my stomach hurt. It makes me want to cry. I hate surgery. This will be number 9 in three years....averaging once every four months for 3 years. I assume it's "minor" surgery.
But I hate it.
Please pray that I don't have a total meltdown as a result of this experience. I brought out my massive medical binder to show my reports, implant sizes, etc. to the new surgeon, and just the sight of that hot pink blender has my stomach in knots. There are a lot of awful memories in that binder.
I just want to put this - all of it - behind me. And I have work to do before I can do that.
I am meeting with a new plastic surgeon to discuss my options for corrections. By my own standards, my current reconstruction status is a mess, and I hate it.
There. I hate it. I said it. When I look at it, I'm reminded of the events of last October, and the emotional fallout of that experience.
So tomorrow I'm going to consult with another PS to discuss what is and is not correctable. If corrections are possible, I would like to proceed in the spring to get it over with.
I have a lump on my eyelid along the incision and it itches like mad (and has since surgery in October). My right, prophylactic side, has scars that I can't explain and they're jagged and rough. My areola on that side looks like a wound, and it's in pieces. The nipple is non-existant. There's a weird divet in the middle of it all, and some pitting in the skin.
My left side aerola looks more normal/as I expected, but the nipple area is actually lower than the rest of the breast. There's a weird puffiness on one side of the breast. And worst of all, that breast is shaped like half of a canteloupe, and it's significantly bigger than the other breast. (Do NOT chime in here that all women's breasts have some assymetry. I know that. I am not talking about norms here, I'm talking about something beyond that.)
Because I told myself that getting this work done would be a symbol of my ability to move on....I feel like I'm bogged down by the symbol. When I see my breasts, I hate them. I don't want to hate my own body. I don't want to see betrayal, torture, pain, ugliness when I look at my chest. I don't expect beauty, but I don't want to feel so....deformed. Artificial.
I don't know if it's correctable. I don't know what the PS will say. But I'm going to try this again.
And it makes my stomach hurt. It makes me want to cry. I hate surgery. This will be number 9 in three years....averaging once every four months for 3 years. I assume it's "minor" surgery.
But I hate it.
Please pray that I don't have a total meltdown as a result of this experience. I brought out my massive medical binder to show my reports, implant sizes, etc. to the new surgeon, and just the sight of that hot pink blender has my stomach in knots. There are a lot of awful memories in that binder.
I just want to put this - all of it - behind me. And I have work to do before I can do that.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Lentil Soup
I don't usually cook with beans...or lentils. I'm trying both. Healthy, inexpensive, and very good for the environment; a great source of protein and fiber. Diversity in our diet.
Today when shopping at PCC while Tessa was at gymnastics, I was talking to a lady in the produce section (she was wondering how I was going to cook "all those leeks"). She, in turn, told me about a lentil soup recipe that she swears makes "people who can't stand lentils start to love lentils."
She said....
A couple of turns of olive oil in the pan; add chopped onion and garlic. Add chopped leeks, and saute until softened; season with salt and pepper. Add "french blue-green lentils" (the type, apparently, being very important), and chopped potatoes, and simmer in chicken broth for 20 minutes. Finally, add carrots or other vegetables, simmer an additional 10-20 minutes, and serve.
I'm adding more farmer's market sausage from Sea Breeze Farms on Vashon, because Ryan and Tessa aren't quite ready for hard core lentils. The amount of sausage is quite small compared to the total quantity prepared, but hopefully will add the zing that they seek.
From the farmer's market:
Onion
Garlic
Sausage
Kale (which I'm adding as well...it cooks down beautifully in soups and adds a green element)
Potatoes (Peruvian Blue, at Tessa's request)
Carrots (Nantes sweet)
The chicken broth is home made from farmer's market ingredients.
From PCC, organic:
blue-green lentils
leeks
It's simmering away right now. I'll serve it with some fresh fruit slices, and some home made bread. I ran out of honey so I substituted molasses in my last batch, and it's quite good...the molasses was an acceptable substitute.
Speaking of honey, it was really expensive at the Farmer's Market, so I got it at PCC. Maybe next time I'll break down and get the Farmer's Market stuff, but right now budget is more important.
I bought MOST of my groceries at the FM this week, and I'm happy with that...
Since writing my last post I've had some anxiety about what a negative Nellie I am, and how people will perceive my whining. I'm trying to come to terms with those thoughts, hoping that nobody will judge me too harshly. I'm still working on all fo this positive stuff. I'm still trying to be a good little homemaker, feeding my family nutritious, delicious, organic, healthy home cooked meals. I'm trying to find pleasure in it. I'm trying to remember the slow foods movement. I'm trying not to remember that Tessa is watching a Clifford movie so that I can cook.
(In my own defense, she played with Jessie all morning, then I picked her up and went straight to Anna's to pick up Anna. Beth arrived her to pick up Anna, and they went out the front door and we went out the back door to gymnastics. I shopped while Tessa was at gymnastics, and then we came home. It's not great 1:1 time with Tessa but she's beenhaving a fabulous, kid-focused day anyway. Tomorrow we're going to visit my mom, and so I'll get lots of 1:1 with Tessa and I'll take her swimming.)
Edited to add: I just tasted the soup; I'm letting it simmer for a few more minutes, but it's done. YUM! I hope Tessa doesn't complain about the texture, because I don't have a backup plan. I'm serving it with the bread, but also fruit - blood oranges were on sale, and Braeburn apples, so that's what we're having. Tessa will like bread and fruit, at least, and worst case scenerio she can dip her bread or eat just the carrots from the soup or....?
Also...we discovered "real" baby carrots at the Farmer's Market. Not those weird machine processed ones that pass as baby carrots all over America, but real honest to goodness ones, with tops and roots and such. And the best part? They taste GREAT. Tessa loves them, and took pride in telling Anna today that they were "real" carrots. I love sharing this journey with a child who is (mostly) open to the process. Now, wish me luck with lentil soup....
Tessa Soup Update: First comment was "Ewww I'm not eating that." Then, minor fits. Then, she started eating it. Then, she cleaned her plate until "Look Mommy, I can't eat more, I can't even pull in my stomach any more!" Funny enough, the part she wouldn't/couldn't eat was the sausage, because it was "too spicy," but the rest got gobbled up. Next time, I will make the soup minus the sausage, and see how the family likes it. If it didn't have sausage, it would be healthier AND cheaper, and though it's made with chicken broth I'd still count it as a vegetarian meal for our purposes. (If you're a vegetarian friend of ours, never fear, I'd never pull that stunt on you and I'm capable of "real" vegetarian food, but since we're not trying to become vegetarians, it's close enough for us.)
And here's a diet tip. My home made bread is rather large and square, so a regular thickness slice is much larger than a slice of store bought bread. So, for dinner tonight, I cut two pieces, quartered them, and put them on a plate for sharing. There were three pieces left at the end of the meal, meaning that the three of us shared a mere 1.25 slices of bread, and walked away sated. Go figure! I think that the trick of piling it up on a plate was what did it - we could reach for more than one piece and not feel deprived.
And it is a good thing that we like the soup; we'll be eating it for days. It made 8 portions.
(I like the fact that it's dinner in one pot. There were a LOT of veggies in that pot, so I didn't even make a side salad, which would have been a nice fresh complement, but I didn't fee, l like it, and it wasn't nutritionally necessary.)
Today when shopping at PCC while Tessa was at gymnastics, I was talking to a lady in the produce section (she was wondering how I was going to cook "all those leeks"). She, in turn, told me about a lentil soup recipe that she swears makes "people who can't stand lentils start to love lentils."
She said....
A couple of turns of olive oil in the pan; add chopped onion and garlic. Add chopped leeks, and saute until softened; season with salt and pepper. Add "french blue-green lentils" (the type, apparently, being very important), and chopped potatoes, and simmer in chicken broth for 20 minutes. Finally, add carrots or other vegetables, simmer an additional 10-20 minutes, and serve.
I'm adding more farmer's market sausage from Sea Breeze Farms on Vashon, because Ryan and Tessa aren't quite ready for hard core lentils. The amount of sausage is quite small compared to the total quantity prepared, but hopefully will add the zing that they seek.
From the farmer's market:
Onion
Garlic
Sausage
Kale (which I'm adding as well...it cooks down beautifully in soups and adds a green element)
Potatoes (Peruvian Blue, at Tessa's request)
Carrots (Nantes sweet)
The chicken broth is home made from farmer's market ingredients.
From PCC, organic:
blue-green lentils
leeks
It's simmering away right now. I'll serve it with some fresh fruit slices, and some home made bread. I ran out of honey so I substituted molasses in my last batch, and it's quite good...the molasses was an acceptable substitute.
Speaking of honey, it was really expensive at the Farmer's Market, so I got it at PCC. Maybe next time I'll break down and get the Farmer's Market stuff, but right now budget is more important.
I bought MOST of my groceries at the FM this week, and I'm happy with that...
Since writing my last post I've had some anxiety about what a negative Nellie I am, and how people will perceive my whining. I'm trying to come to terms with those thoughts, hoping that nobody will judge me too harshly. I'm still working on all fo this positive stuff. I'm still trying to be a good little homemaker, feeding my family nutritious, delicious, organic, healthy home cooked meals. I'm trying to find pleasure in it. I'm trying to remember the slow foods movement. I'm trying not to remember that Tessa is watching a Clifford movie so that I can cook.
(In my own defense, she played with Jessie all morning, then I picked her up and went straight to Anna's to pick up Anna. Beth arrived her to pick up Anna, and they went out the front door and we went out the back door to gymnastics. I shopped while Tessa was at gymnastics, and then we came home. It's not great 1:1 time with Tessa but she's beenhaving a fabulous, kid-focused day anyway. Tomorrow we're going to visit my mom, and so I'll get lots of 1:1 with Tessa and I'll take her swimming.)
Edited to add: I just tasted the soup; I'm letting it simmer for a few more minutes, but it's done. YUM! I hope Tessa doesn't complain about the texture, because I don't have a backup plan. I'm serving it with the bread, but also fruit - blood oranges were on sale, and Braeburn apples, so that's what we're having. Tessa will like bread and fruit, at least, and worst case scenerio she can dip her bread or eat just the carrots from the soup or....?
Also...we discovered "real" baby carrots at the Farmer's Market. Not those weird machine processed ones that pass as baby carrots all over America, but real honest to goodness ones, with tops and roots and such. And the best part? They taste GREAT. Tessa loves them, and took pride in telling Anna today that they were "real" carrots. I love sharing this journey with a child who is (mostly) open to the process. Now, wish me luck with lentil soup....
Tessa Soup Update: First comment was "Ewww I'm not eating that." Then, minor fits. Then, she started eating it. Then, she cleaned her plate until "Look Mommy, I can't eat more, I can't even pull in my stomach any more!" Funny enough, the part she wouldn't/couldn't eat was the sausage, because it was "too spicy," but the rest got gobbled up. Next time, I will make the soup minus the sausage, and see how the family likes it. If it didn't have sausage, it would be healthier AND cheaper, and though it's made with chicken broth I'd still count it as a vegetarian meal for our purposes. (If you're a vegetarian friend of ours, never fear, I'd never pull that stunt on you and I'm capable of "real" vegetarian food, but since we're not trying to become vegetarians, it's close enough for us.)
And here's a diet tip. My home made bread is rather large and square, so a regular thickness slice is much larger than a slice of store bought bread. So, for dinner tonight, I cut two pieces, quartered them, and put them on a plate for sharing. There were three pieces left at the end of the meal, meaning that the three of us shared a mere 1.25 slices of bread, and walked away sated. Go figure! I think that the trick of piling it up on a plate was what did it - we could reach for more than one piece and not feel deprived.
And it is a good thing that we like the soup; we'll be eating it for days. It made 8 portions.
(I like the fact that it's dinner in one pot. There were a LOT of veggies in that pot, so I didn't even make a side salad, which would have been a nice fresh complement, but I didn't fee, l like it, and it wasn't nutritionally necessary.)
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